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eddieexcellence · 2 years

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SOUR CANDY

part iv: dungeon master

E. munson x fem!reader

Synopsis: back in Hawkins for spring break, the reader is back from college. She gets sucked into the madness again for the fourth time with her best friend and younger friends. Plus an unexpected and unwelcome face.

Type: fixit fic, angst/comfort, enemies to lovers trope

Warnings: cursing as always, reader always in a pickle, insecure/jealous reader, clumsy reader, brief mention of blood, backstory backstory backstory, mention of a razor (teenage shaving mishaps), Eddie growing up headcanons, silly litte mentions of sour patch kids, angst.

Words: 4k (wowza)

Authors note: i think it’s the moment everyone has been waiting for? Reader x Eddie in the flesh??? I had fun with this one. I just like imagining the backstory to Eddie since we didn’t get too many details in the series. This chapter follows the plot loosely of s4 ch5: the Nina project but with the twist of the reader in it. If I missed any warnings let me know!! Hope you enjoy!! :) I’d like to also talk about the gif used and how precious he is

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You really didn’t know how you were going to get into Eddie’s trailer. You had parked by the playground, and you were just staring at the trailer with ‘53’ by the front door. There was no more crime scene and caution tape blocking it off, but Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, was home. If you broke in, he’d hear you with trailer was only so big. You also couldn’t just assume he’d let you in if you asked. He was for sure being hounded and scrutinized by reporters and police right now.

You drummed your fingers on your knees, thinking. Then you had an idea as you stared at the D&D guideline books in your passenger seat. You grabbed your bookbag from the back next to the paper grocery bag, and dumped the contents in your passenger side so you could fit everything you needed for Eddie. Not quite sure how full proof this would be, but it was worth the shot as you got out of your car. You walked up to the front door and tapped on the front door lightly taking a step back waiting for an answer composing your jitters shaking your hands slightly.

The door opened to reveal Wayne Munson, and you beamed at him as if you were putting on an act.

“Can I help you?” He asked suspiciously, confused as to why a young woman was on his doorstep. Hoping it wasn’t another reporter.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, I’m the local babysitter, Y/n Y/l/n. How’re you doing today sir?” You asked politely the smile never leaving your face.

He gave you an incredulous scowl, “have you seen the news?”

He took a good look at you, you looked familiar. Not only being able to place where he has met you and your name before, he didn’t think you looked like the typical babysitter especially for Hawkins in the casual attire you had on.

You mentally facepalmed yourself for asking a stupid question, but you didn’t let that deter you. “I’m sorry sir, how insensitive of me. It must be frustrating that your nephew’s wrongfully accused of murder.”

“You believe Eddie’s innocent?” He was in disbelief, that’s all the town was talking about, and his boys name chastised everywhere he went as of late. It was eating at Mr. Munson that nobody believed him. The police tried to be neutral, but the critical gazes told him otherwise when they interviewed him,

“One hundred percent! Eddie is an oddball, not a murderer.” You reassured him. “ Actually the reason I’m here is because a couple of his younger members of the hellfire club that I babysit let Eddie borrow a couple of things for the game. I was just wondering if I could collect them?” You gave him some puppy dog eyes.

“I also apologize for the ill timing, y’know how kids can be though.” You quickly added for extra measure.

He pointed his finger at you all of sudden, “I know who you are!”

You gulped, your smile faltered, thinking you're in trouble. “Y-you do?”

“Yes, you’re one of Eddie’s friends!” He had open the door wider. “You could’ve just said that. Come on in.” He stepped aside, and you smiled weakly stepping by him into the small trailer.

The trailer was decorated in trucker hats and mugs a yellow stain seemed to envelop everything as you glanced around. Only being in here once before. It was the first time Eddie taught you to play D&D. To your dismay there was no fairy or mermaid option for race, you went for an Elf Druid instead. Towards the middle of him teaching you, Eddie and you just ended up going through his music collection, and you watched him play his acoustic guitar he had got a few months prior. Everything looked just about fine and you almost couldn’t tell Chrissy Cunningham had been killed here almost a week ago. The only evidence was a crack in the ceiling.

“I don’t know why it took me a while to figure out, maybe you had just grown so much since a couple years ago. Eddie doesn’t tell me much about his friends anymore. Then again I’m not home much either.” Wayne looked down at his feet sounding upset. “But I do remember him being sweet on you.”

You stilled as you felt your heart pick up its pace. That swarm of butterflies seemed to flutter back into your stomach again like it did earlier. “He was?”

“Boy was he. Now, I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this. That should be his job.” He chuckled, you chuckled nervously too. “His room is down the hall on the left. Make it quick girl. I have to be at work soon.” With a blank stare and a nod to this information, you tripped over your feet, almost forgetting to walk as you went to his room feeling more uneasy.

When you walked in you closed the door so it was only open slightly ajared, preventing Wayne from seeing what you were doing. The room was almost exactly how you imagined it: piles of clothes in the corner, a couple beer and water bottles on his nightstand, band posters, posters of half naked women, and the smell of weed and his cheap cologne lingered in the air. Things you did not imagine his room to have: his bed somewhat messily made wafting a smell of fresh detergent, his desk area, music collection, and D&D shelf all meticulously organized and dusted. Seemed like he was trying to impress someone. That made you frown, maybe he was trying to impress a certain cheerleader? Chrissy Cunningham was there to buy drugs from him. You knew even Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson would like her. She was pretty, sweet and actually really funny, she never solemnly judged anybody either: only if they liked Coke or Pepsi. She was the IT girl of Hawkins High, and despite being a year older than her; it didn’t exclude you from feeling a slight green feeling in your stomach. You could’ve been over thinking, maybe he invited other clients over and tried to clean up for them too? An envious feeling washed over you, it had left a sour taste in your mouth.

You let it dull as you heard someone knock on the front door that caused you to jump out of your daze.

“Can I help you?” You heard Mr. Munson ask.

“We need to take a look around.” A woman’s voice. Footsteps creaked into the living room. A ringing, high electricity buzzing started.

You gulped, and made pace. Quietly started to search for clothes for him, and dug through his drawers throwing whatever he may have needed in your bag.

“Yeah, I think it’s some kind of leak.” Wayne said. “Hadn’t had a chance to fix it with everything going on.”

You quickly dug through the top drawer, keeping an eye on the door until fingers hit something small and hard wrapped in a bandanna at the bottom of his drawer. Did you want to know? Cautiously you pulled it out, one eye closed because you could never know. Your eyes glowed in bewilderment as you unwrapped the object. It had been something you thought you’d never see in a million years. A litle poorly lumpy gnome looking trinket. You wanted to laugh, but didn’t have time to observe the object thoroughly as the door opened. You quickly wrapped it back up and threw it in the bag, turned around to be met by Wayne.

“Girl what the hell are you doing? Are you with them?” He was furious at the coincidence of you showing up on his door steps and minutes later a government agent. He noticed your bag full of Eddie’s things poking out, his brows knitted in an angry confusion visibly softened. He grabbed your arm gently with one hand bringing you in, as his other shut the door. “Do you know where Eddie is?” His voice only above a whisper.

Frozen, unsure what to say, you started to open your mouth before quickly closing it, eyes wide, and almost scared with any answer you tried to give him.

His eyes started to get glossy, “I just want to know he’s safe.” He tried to hold it together as a few tears ran down his face.

You grabbed a hold of the hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “Trust me Mr. Munson, he’s okay. I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I’m trying to clear his name.” You whispered frantic. “My friends and I are going to clear his name.” You quickly adjusted the sentence. This was a team effort not a you effort.

He nodded, taking a deep breath as footsteps approached Eddie’s bedroom. “You need to get out of here, take this.” He took out his wallet and handed a $20 bill to you.

“I can’t take this,” you insisted, trying to give it back.

“It’s for Eddie, now go.” He closed your hand around the crumpled bill. You just nodded backing up to the window, and with shaky hands you opened it sliding the screen up. You threw your bag out first, before hoisting yourself up and through the window. You weren’t ever the most poised and graced girl so you managed dropping face first to the ground. Your body ached and burned knowing there was going to be cuts and bruises later.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you quickly got up dusting off the scrapes and cuts, grabbing the bookbag. You crawled around staying close to the siding of the trailer, sneaking around so you could run to the car discreetly. Noticing an unmarked vehicle was parked in front of the trailer as you made sure the coast was clear. In your last couple years at Hawkins you had gotten very familiar with a car like that knowing it could mean one thing, the government, even more specifically the Department of Energy. That would explain the whirring and buzzing.

You dashed over to the playground where you had parked. Unlocking the door and hurriedly putting the keys in the ignition, engine coming to life. You grabbed the walkie talkie from the survival box from the backseat. Peeling out of the trailer park you clicked the walkie on.

“Munson, do you copy?” You asked out of breath.

“Did you get the stuff?” He quickly responded.

You mentally checked off the list in your head: food, beer, shirt, pants, socks—

“Shit! I forgot the hairbrush!” You still had your walkie clicked on causing Eddie to hear that.

“Y/l/n, you're truly implorable to think Hawkins Most Wanted needs a brush in a moment like this.” You could hear him laugh at you.

“Oh shove off, Eddie!” You told him. “I’ll be there in less than 15.”

“Copy, Princess.” You didn’t need to see his face to know he had a smirk on his face.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the road as you clicked the walkie on one last time, “stop calling me that!”

You parked down the road from Reefer Rick’s place in a tucked away turn around spot by Lover’s Lake. Overstuffing your bookbag with the food and beers for Eddie, putting the rest of your belongings in your trunk and locked the car up. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough to make you haul ass. Cutting through the brush that was behind Reefer Ricks house then to the abandoned boat house avoiding any possible attention. Pushing your stamina as much as you could. You got to the door and quietly knocked before opening the door and closing it behind you as you slipped in.

Eddie sat on an empty trash can throwing pebbles into an empty paint can, looking bored. He looked up at you and he looked dumbfounded.

“Holy shit Y/l/n!” You were still mildly out of breath from the most physical activity you’ve had in quite a few months, holding your hands on your knees throwing the book bag to him. You didn’t even bother looking at him yet, just taking deep breaths.

“I’m never,” a deep breath, “doing anything,” another deep breath, “that involves running,” one last deep breath, “again!” You collapsed to your already bruised and scraped knees tired.

“You’ve seen better days haven’t you?” You could hear the man across from already munching on the honeycombs you got him.

You had your eyes closed still regaining yourself, “always for the flattery aren’t we Munson?” He cracked open a can of beer as you scoffed at the sound.

“Oh do you want me to tell you that you look fresher than a daisy while you have blood running down your forehead?” He retorted. “Christ Sake Y/n how’d you even get that? Got into a fight with the gas station clerk for the six pack?”

You flipped him off, putting your fingers to your forehead and felt a small wet cut on your temple. It wasn’t too bad, but still enough to stain your fingers red you noted when you opened your eyes. You set you eight on the tall unruly man, glaring at him. You eyes making contact with him for the first time since you came into the boathouse. You had only saw him in passing while dropping off Max at her trailer when you were home for winter break a few months ago.

He looked more mature, hair longer, but still wearing his typical outfit: his hellfire t-shirt, tight jeans, leather jacket with the hellfire vest on top, scuffed up Nikes, and an ungodly amount of accessories. His guitar pick necklace hangs on his chest, his wallet chain popping out his pocket, a chain bracelet on his left wrist where he only had on ring on that hand, while his right hand was clad in an obnoxious amount of silver rings in various shapes on his long slender fingers, and his timex watch on the right wrist. His big brown doe eyes glimmered mischievously into yours.

You had to fight the blush from forming hoping that if one did appear you could chalk it out to all the vigorous running. Call Eddie a freak, an idiot, or a loser, but he wasn’t unattractive.

You cleared your throat, averting your eyes to the six pack beside him. “If you’d like to know, I had to practically throw myself out of your bedroom window to flee. Now hand one over.” You made a grabby hand for a can of beer.

“Ooh, the goody two shoes breaking and entering and drinking a beer with a runaway madman?” He rolled a can over to you anyway. “That’s scandalous.”

You opened the beer, taking a thirsty gulp trying to soothe your dry throat. You didn’t care that he chastised you for having a beer, you were parched. “I didn’t break and enter, more like break and exit.” You had corrected after finishing the gulp.

“My uncle let you in?” Eddie sounded surprised.

“H-he recognized me and I made a bullshit excuse I needed to grab something for Dustin,” you stated avoiding the detail of the DOC at his front door. “He wanted to know if you were safe, Eddie.” Not knowing how he’d take the news, you anxiously took another sip of beer.

Eddie was silent, glancing down staring in front of his feet. It was silent for a minute as you two just stayed still. He sniffed, wiping his nose, was he about to cry? You braced yourself just in case he was about to. Comforting the kids came east even Nancy or Steve. But Eddie? Not so much. You didn’t really know if you could say or do anything to help.

“D-does he think I did it?” He asked, his voice shaky.

You shook your head. “No, of course not.” He visibly relaxed at the statement. You bit your lip, seeing how distraught he was. You could go on all day making snide remarks and insults at him, but you felt bad. Genuinely. “Munson, you may be many things, but you aren’t a bad person .” The tone of your voice is sincere and thoughtful as you look down coyly. This was the best effort of you comforting him.

Eddie thought you short circuited being nice all of a sudden. He studied you carefully, scrapes and bruises littered your skin, your mascara from the day before smudged, did he dare want to admit to himself that you still looked pretty? The oversized Slayer shirt hanging off your shoulders, ripped mom jeans, and combat boots that you could squash anyone in. You did not look like the girl you once were in high school not even a year ago. That girl still hid her band tees tucked into skirts under dainty sweaters and paired with Keds or Converse with frilly socks that followed Steve around like a lost puppy. You had grown within the several months since he last saw you, but reminded him more of the personality of the young girl he first met. The you he had envisioned you becoming in high school had him in awe. That didn’t happen though, instead you were corrupted by the popular kids and jocks.

“You’re not going soft on me, are you Y/l/n?” Eddie questioned mockingly as he continued to rummage through the book bag of stuff you got him.

“What, I can't feel an ounce of sympathy?” You bit back.

“I don’t need your pity!” He snapped getting mad. “If this is all you’re trying to prove, you can leave. You did your supply drop, good work soldier. Now leave.” He didn’t need your martyrdom.

You rolled your eyes, “always ruining a moment and any decent conversation Munson.” Maybe you did extend your stay in the boathouse, you were only so he could have some food and clean clothes.

Eddie still pulled things out of the bag, “if I remember correctly that’s always been you.” He pulled a crushed box of sour patch kids from it, his black and white bandana messily folded over an item flying out as he did so. Oh no.

“You’re not going soft on me, are you Munson?” You mimicked him from moments ago as your eyes fell on the bandana too.

“I-I forgot I still had that.” He tried to say. You raised an eyebrow, not believing him.

“In your underwear drawer, that I would hope you go into everyday?” That caused the man across from you to blush lightly as he unraveled the bandana from around the trinket.

“I’m surprised you didn’t smash it.” You said.

“It’s not his fault the person that made it became a brainwashed idiot.” He rolled it around his fingers.

It was chipped, seen better days, but he still knew what it was supposed to be. It was a poorly constructed dungeon master you made for art class in the 8th grade. You were great at art, pottery not so much. You made it as a token of your friendship in your free time. You were so excited when you gave it to him.

It was towards the end of the school year, so you didn’t have much to do in classes as everyone wrapped up missing and late assignments. Steve asked you to hangout that weekend, but the new Judas Priest album was coming out. You wanted to snag a vinyl or cassette for it, so you asked Eddie to come along to the music shop.

As you two waited in the small line, he chatted excitedly about what he heard about the album so far. You listened as you rummaged through your purple canvas bookbag looking for the little clay piece you made in art class for him. It was comical seeing a young girl in the crowd of mainly men clad in their metal t-shirts and flannels in the rising mid day spring heat of Hawkins. You had a pale pink sleeveless romper on with a chunky belt, a geometric printed matching baby blue and lavender windbreaker wrapped around your waist, your signature lacy white socks pulled as high as they could go to hide the razor nicks on your ankles from shaving, and scuffed white keds on. Let’s not forget the clumped on mascara coating your eyelashes, overly glittery lip gloss, and the big band on your chin. When Eddie asked about it, you said you were clumsy and cut your chin, secretly it hid the mountain of a pimple that appeared overnight.

Whereas Eddie had his Hellfire Club shirt on, some cargo shorts, his wallet chain hanging, his newfound guitar pick necklace, some mismatched socks, and black vans with scribbles on the soles. He had tried to grow out a mustache and beard, but it was mainly a sparse area of dark straggly peach fuzz above his upper lip, and ingrown hairs dotted his cheeks. You two were a sight for sore eyes as you were just awkward pubescent teenagers. Not aware of the events that would forebode within the month to come.

“Aha!” You pulled the trinket out, a bright proud smile adorned your features.

“Y/n what is that?” The teenage boy asked you. He couldn’t tell what exactly it was, it looked like a mini garden gnome at first glance.

“It’s for you!” You handed it to him. “It’s supposed to be a dungeon master, see it even has a diabolical sorcerer hat on!” As you explained more he got what you were going for. The hat with lumpy flower pieces had gold stars painted over them. It was a disproportionately large almost just as big as the dungeon master itself. Though poorly made, the details of the paint job were really good; primarily red, black, and gold accents. You had made the trinket look like it was holding a red bat shaped electric guitar, like the one he got at the beginning of the school year that his uncle helped get him for making it to sophomore year. The face is just a peach colored blob with a scowl on the face. Eddie wouldn’t be happy if he had to lug around a hat on his head three times his size too.

“I was going for if Gandalf was in a metal band.” You continued. You were so nervous, knowing it wasn’t your best work, but you still thought it was cute. “D’you like it?” You batted your lashes.

Eddie smiled, it was the worst thing he ever saw. It was the best thing he had ever received though, because you made it just for him. “It’s actually great,” he chuckled. He held his hand out for a high five. “Thanks Y/n/n!” You high fives excitedly back.

He brought it to every Hellfire Club meeting until the day you stopped being friends. It was retired on his D&D shelf until one particularly bad day between you two where you were at each other’s throats in Spanish class. It got to the point where you had to be sent to the library to do your work for the rest of the period, and he got detention. Eddie went home that afternoon ready to smash it, but the more he stared at it the more he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It had been through many great campaigns with him just sitting by his folder scowling at the other members in the club so he just carefully wrapped it in one of his many bandanas and tucked it away. He always unraveled it when his uncle would force him to clean up his room and fold his laundry getting distracted by going through his things instead.

You finally stood up, dusting your pants off grabbing your keys from your pocket turning around to leave. “Well this brainwashed idiot did her job so I’ll just go.” After the much gentle reality check Steve gave you the night before, now Eddie basically paraphrased what he had said the night prior, you couldn’t help it to be bitter as a pang filled your chest. Were you really brainwashed and desperate to fit in?

“Thanks for the trip down memory lane, sweetheart.” The malice that laced sweetheart when Eddie said it was enough to turn the hurt and confusion into anger.

You whipped around to say something, the sound of a tired screeched to stop made you both freeze. “Get down!” Eddie instructed, and he sneaked a glance through the window. You crouched down not knowing what was happening listening to him anyway.

“Shit. Shit!” He exclaimed quietly as he ducked back down, grabbing the walkie talkie beside him.

“What’s going on?” Your eyes widened as he clicked the walkie on.

“Hey Dustin. It’s Eddie, you remember me right?” He spoke through the machine. “Well the babysitters here too. If anyone’s there, we may be in a bit of trouble here.” He started to freak out. “Okay? Wheeler? Harrington?!” He smacked the walkie in frustration, “anyone?!”

You crawled over to the window he was near to see what he was so freaked out over. You bumped his shoulder as you went to peer up through the window, but he quickly grabbed you, pulling you back down before you could see.

“I believe my angry mob has arrived.” He whispered darkly.

taglist: @sunfairyy @eddiemunson4ever @babygirlwilly @creme-delacreme @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @flicksturz @thicc101q

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson fic #sour candy series #sour candy fic

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sourtomatola · 5 days

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[This is meant for the "Taking Candy for a Fool" AU] People probably haven't asked these questions, so...

Is there an Optimal Calorie Range for the Candy Creatures? If yes, what are their values for them?

What happens to them when they're low on calories/sugar?

How long can a Candy Creature stay active when they're not fed? (Assuming that they're not harvested either.)

Nah I haven't thought about the nitty gritty of the caloric intake thing XD IT's more based on just the sugar, not really calories

I'm thinking if they went without sugar for long enough, they might just reset as endo-skeleton's, and possibly be able to try new things. they could eat plants and become animatronic plant beings (a concept I played around with, like there being more animatronics' in the works who when freed, chose their first food to be flowers and anything else, so instead of candy critters, they became metal based nature creatures)

As for how long that would take, I could say a while. If they weren't harvested, they would still shed, and could just recycle what they drop. But it would diminish over time.

They shed about once a week, so I can imagine if they wanted to cling to what they are, they could cling to that for about 6 months before they'd have to restart and try something to their systems to start replicating again.

#Sorry I meant ot answer this before I ended the series #but I wanted to finish it first #Taking candy for a fool #yay asks!#sour speaks

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happyfunf3tti · 2 years

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heyoo I finally got done binge watching space ghost coast to coast and oh my gosh the last few seasons had such a weird tone shift and kinda left a bad taste in my mouth....

#maybe this is just me but it was really out of left field #like yeah the show got weirder over time but oh my gosh I think around 2001 is whenthe show got how do I put this....edgier #and definitely more vulgar #i don’t know if it’s because of executive interference once the show moved to adult swim cause it used to air on cartoon network #late at night I believe #it ended on a sour note and I’m not a huge fan of the later seasons #at least my sister was having a good time watching it with me #she got into the series now and crushes on zorak #*don’t tell her I said that lolz*#cotton candy chatters

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redgoldsparks · 6 months

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I wrote a 12 page epilogue to my 2019 comic "Harry Potter and The Problematic Author" because I found, in 2023, that I had more to say. You can also find this comic on my website, and I have PDF copies available on etsy. I may sell print copies at some point in the future.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Full transcript below the cut.

PAGE 1

Part one: Ruddy Owls!

I was in fourth grade when the first Harry Potter Book was released in the US.

Panel 1: Sometimes our teacher would read it aloud in class. “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number 4 Privat Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

Panel 2: I was 11 years old when Harry Potter finally broke through my dyslexia and turned me into a reader.

Panel 3: Every night in the summer before sixth grade I waited for the owl carrying my Hogwarts Letter. I cried when it didn’t come. “I have to go to Muggle school!”

PAGE 2

Part Two: Hats

I dedicated myself to being a fan.

Panel 1: I began collecting Harry Potter News article.

Panel 2: I asked my relatives to mail me ones from their local papers. I filled a thick binder with clippings.

Panel 3: I wrote my own trivia quiz

Panel 4: and participated in the one held annually at the county fair. “Next contestant!”

Panel 5: I usually got into one of. the top five spots. I won boxes of candy, posters, stationary, and once a baseball cap. (Hat reads: I survived the battle of Hogwarts).

Panel 6: In high school I sewed a black velvet cape and knitted many stripped scarves.

PAGE 3

Part Three: Double Trouble

Watching the last film in 2011 felt like the final note of my childhood.

Panel 1: I remember driving home from the midnight showing thinking about the end of 13 years of waiting; wondering what would define the next chapter of my life.

Panel 2: That same month I heard of something called Pottermore. “Okay, so there’s a sorting quiz… I already know my house! Patronus assignment? Mine’s a barn owl. Duh!"

Panel 3: You can read the books again but with GIFs? Why?

Panel 4: I lived in a place with very slow and limited internet at the time. Pottermore sounded inaccessible, but also boring. I never joined.

Panel 5: "I’ll just read the actual books again, thanks."

PAGE 4

Part Four: Sweets

In 2016, a series of short stories titled "History of Magic in North America” were released on Pottermore to pave the way for the first Fantastic Beasts Film. These stories display an extreme ignorance of American history, culture, and geography, but the worst parts are the casual misuse of indigenous beliefs and stories. Fans and critics immediately spoke up against this appropriation. Some of the most quoted voices included Nambe Pueblo scholar Dr. Debbie Reese who runs the site “American Indians In Children’s Literature”; Navajo writer Brian Young; Johnnie Jae (Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw), founder of A Tribe Called Geek; Dr Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), a Professor at Brown University who runs the blog “Native Appropriations”, and writers N.K. Jemison and Paula Young Lee.

PAGE 5

Rowling is famous for responding to fans directly on twitter, yet she did not respond to anyone calling out the damaging aspects of “Magic in North America.” Her representatives refused to comment for March 9 2016 article in the Guardian. She has never apologized. All of this, plus the casting of Johnny Depp and the specific declarations of support by JKR, Warner Brothers, and director David Yates left a sour taste in my mouth.

For further thoughts on the new films read The Crimes of Grindelwald is a Mess by Alanna Bennett for Buzzfeed News, November 16, 2018.

PAGE 6

Excerpt from Colonialism in Wizarding American: JK Rowling’s History of Magic in North America Through an Indigenous Lens by Allison Mills, MFA, MAS/MLIS (Cree and Settler French Canadian)

Although Rowling is certainly not the first white author to misstep in her treatment of Indigenous cultures, she has an unprecedented level of visibility and fame, […] One of the most glaring problems with Rowling’s story is her treatment of the many Indigenous nations in North America as one monolithic group. […It] flattens out the diversity of languages, belief systems, and cultures that exist in Indigenous communities, allowing stereotyping to persist. […] It continues a long history of colonial texts which ignore that Indigenous peoples still exist. […] In the Wizarding world, as in the real world, Indigenous histories have been over-written and our cultures erased.

from The Looking Glass: New Perspectives in Children’s Literature Volumn 19, Issue 1

PAGE 7

Part 5: Music

Panel 1: Also in 2016 I discovered two podcasts which radically altered my experience of being an HP fan. The first was Witch Please created by two Canadian feminist literary scholars Hannah McGregor and Marcelle Kosman.

Panel 2: “If it’s not in the text it doesn’t count!” “Close reading ONLY!”

Panel 3: They talk about Harry Potter at the level you’d expect in a college class with particular focus on gender, race, class, and the troubling fatphobia, fear of othered and queer coded bodies, violence against women, white feminism, gaslighting and failed pedagogy in the books. They bring up these issues not because they hate the series, but because they LOVE it.

PAGE 8

These passionate, joyful conversations went off like fireworks in my mind. I had never taken a feminist class before. I gained a whole new vocabulary to talk about the books- and the world.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: The second podcast I started that year was Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, created by two graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, Vanessa Zoltan and Casper Ter Kuile.

Panel 2: They read one chapter per episode through a theme such as love, control, curiosity, shame, responsibility, hospitality, destruction, or mystery. Like Witch Please, they are interested only in the information on the page, not thoughts from the author. The delights and failures of the text are examined in the context of the present day, and new meanings constantly arise.

PAGE 10

What does it mean to treat a text as sacred?

Trusting that the more time we give to it, the more blessings it has to give us.

Reading the text repeatedly with concentrated attention. Our effort is part of what makes it sacred. The text is not in and of itself sacred, but is made so by rigorously engaging in the ritual of reading.

Experiencing it in community.

“To me, the goal of treating the text as sacred is that we learn to treat each other as sacred.” -Vanessa Zoltan

PAGE 11

Part 6: Tooth and Claw

In October 2017, Rowling liked a tweet linking to an article arguing that trans women should be kept out of women’s bathrooms because of cisgender women’s fears. In March 2018, she liked a tweet about the problem of misogyny in the UK Labour Party which included the line “Men in dresses get brosocialist solidarity I never had.” The author of the tweet had previously posted many blatantly anti-trans statements.

Rowlings publicist claimed she had liked the posted by accident in a “clumsy and middle-aged moment.” Yet, in September 2018 she liked a link posted by Janice Turner to her column in the Times UK titled “Trans Rapists Are A Danger In Women’s Jails.”

Screencaps of these tweets can be found in the article “The Mysterious Case of JK Rowling and her Transphobic Twitter History”, January 10 2019 by Gwendolyn Smith (a trans journalist), LGBTQNation.com

PAGE 12

Excerpt from: Is JK Rowling Transphobic? A Trans Woman Investigates by Katelyn Burns

Ultimately, the answer is yes, she is transphobic […] I think it’s fair that she receives criticism from trans people, especially given her advocacy on behalf of queer people in general, but also because she has a huge platform. Many people look up to her for creating a singular piece of popular culture that holds deep meaning for fans from different walks of life, and she has a responsibility to handle that platform wisely. (Published on them.us March 28, 2018)

PAGE 13

Part 7: Home

At age 30, I’m still not over Harry Potter.

Panel 1: I’ve recently found a local bar that does HP trivia nights. “Poppy or Pomona?” “Poppy!”

Panel 2: I currently own an annual pass to Universal Studios so I can visit Hogsmeade.

Panel 3: I love talking to kids who are reading the books for the first time. “Who’s your favorite character?” “Ginny!”

Panel 4: And I’m planning a relisten to the audio books to next year to help me get through the election cycle. “Jim Dale, I’m going to need you more than ever…”

Spoiler from 2023: I did not do this. By mid-2020 JKR had posted her transphobic essay; we were in covid; I never visited Universal Studios again.

PAGE 14

But I do want to learn from her mistakes. I never want to repeat “Magic in North America.” As I write, I will do my research. I will consult experts and compensate them. If a reader from a different culture/background than me speaks up about my work, I will listen and apologize. I KNOW I WILL MAKE MISTAKES. But I will own up to them and I will do better.

PAGE 15

Excerpt from Diversity Is Not Enough: Race, Power and Publishing by Daniel José Older

We can love a thing and still critique it. In fact, that’s the only way to really love a thing. Let’s be critical lovers and loving critics and open ourselves to the truth about where we are and where we’ve been. Instead of holding tight to the same old, failed patriarchies, let’s walk a new road, speak new languages. Today, let’s imagine a literature, a literary world, that carries this struggle for equity in its very essence, so that tomorrow it can cease to be necessary, and disappear. (Buzzfeed, April 14, 2017)

PAGE 16

Harry Potter is flawed, & JK Rowling is problematic. But the books helped me learn a lot:

*One of the greatest dangers facing the modern world is the rise of fascism

*The government cannot be trusted

*Read and think critically

*Question the news: who paid the journalist? Who owns the paper?

*Trust and support your friends through good times and bad

*Organize for resistance

*Educate and share resources with peers

*The revolution must be diverse and intersectional

* We are only as strong as we are united

*The weapon we have is love

MK 2019

PAGE 17

PART 8: EPILOGUE

In 2021 I removed a Harry Potter patch I sewed to my book bag over a decade ago. I took 15 pieces of Harry Potter fanart off my walls. I got rid of my paperback book set, 2 board games, and 8 t-shirt. [images: a Hogwarts a patch with loose threads, a pair of scissors and a seam ripper]

Panel 1: Maia holding up a shirt with the Deathly Hallows logo on it. Maia thinks: “Damn, this really used to be my entire personality.”

Panel 2: The t-shirt gets thrown into the Goodwill box.

PAGE 18

I wrote my zine wrestling with JKR’s legacy in 2019, after her dismissive and racist reaction to indigenous fans and critics of “Magic in North America” and after she had liked a couple transphobic tweets. Since then, she has gotten so much worse.

A Brief Timeline (mostly from this Vox article)

June 2020- JKR posts a 3600 word essay making her anti-trans position clear

August 2020- The Robert F Kennedy Human Rights Org issues a statement about her transphobia, JKR doubles down on her position and returns an award they gave her

December 2020- JKR claims 90% of HP fans secretly agree with her anti-trans views

December 2021- JKR mocks Scottish Police for recognizing transgender identities

March 2022- JKR criticizes gender-inclusive language and legislation

December 2022- JKR retweets trans youtuber Jessie Earl’s critical review of Hogwarts Legacy, starting an onslaught of transphobic harassment towards Earl

December 2022- JKR removes her support from an Edinburgh center for survivors of sexual violence with a trans-inclusive policy and funds her own center which explicitly excludes trans sexual assault survivors

January 2023- JKR tweets “Deeply amused by those telling me I’ve lost their admiration due to disrespect I show violent, duplicitous rapists.” It got nearly 300K likes

March 2023- One the podcast “The Witch Trials of JK Rowling”, hosted by a former Westboro Baptist Church Member, JKR compares the trans rights movement to Death Eaters.

PAGE 19

What are The Witch Trials of JK Rowling?

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “It’s a 7 episode documentary style podcast hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper. Nearly every episode contains interviews with JKR as well as critics, journalists, historians, protestors and fans.

Panel 2: Maia speaking. “In episode 1, JKR speaks more candidly than she has previously about being in an abusive marriage. Her ex-husband hit her, stalked her, broke into her house overlapping with the time she was writing the first three HP books.”

Panel 3: Maia speaking. “What she went through genuinely sounds horrific. I have a lot of sympathy for the kind of life-long traumas those experiences leave.”

PAGE 20

HOWEVER.

It is clear from reading the June 2020 essay on her blog and listening to the podcast, that JKR still to this day feels unsafe. Despite her wealth and privilege she moves through the world with the mindset of a victim. And the group of people she finds most threatening are trans women.

Or rather, she is afraid that allowing trans women in women’s spaces invites the possibility of male predators entering those spaces.

Here’s a direct quote: The problem is male violence. All a predator wants is access and to open the doors of changing rooms, rape centers, domestic violence centers [...] to any male who says “I’m a woman and I have a right to be here” will constitute a risk to women and girls. - from The Witch Trials episode 4 as transcribed by therowlinglibrary.com, March 2023

Image: A stem of Belladonna with flowers and berries.

PAGE 21

Let me introduce here the term: TRANSMISOGYNY. The intersection of transphobia and misogyny, this term was coined by Julia Serano in 2007. Scout Tran, on tiktok as Queersneverdie said: “Transmisogyny occurs in people who have been previously hurt by traditional misogyny. Who have been driven to hate men or at the very least to be scared of men. They will sometimes take out that rage on trans women. (March 2023)

JKR claims to care for trans women and understand they are extremely vulnerable to assault and violence. In her 2020 Essay she wrote: “I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”

So she cares about trans women… just less than cis women, and she’s willing to throw all trans women under the bus because of her unfounded, prejudice fears.

PAGE 22

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “JKR claims to have seen data that proves trans women have presented physical threats to other women in intimate spaces, but never cites sources. She also uses “producer of the large gametes” as a definition of “woman”.

What about transmen and nonbinary folks?

Panel 2: Maia leaning on a stack of all seven HP books, the first four Cormorant Strike books and The Casual Vacancy, gesturing to a series of quotes with a tired and disgusted expression.

I’m concerned about the huge explosion of young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning. * [...] If I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. -June 10 2020 essay

I don’t believe a 14 year old can truly understand what the loss of their fertility is.

-Witch Trials episode 4

I haven’t yet found a study that hasn’t found that the majority of young people experiencing gender dysphoria grow out of it*. -Witch Trials episode 7

*No sources cited

PAGE 23

It’s hard to over emphasize how fixated JKR has become on these topics. As of the date I’m writing this, 14 out of her 20 most recent tweets (70%) are in some way anti-trans. She tweets against Mermaids (a UK based trans youth charity), against trans athletes, against gender neutral bathrooms, and in support of LBG Alliance- a UK org that denies trans rights while upholding gay rights. Here are some gems from her archive:

“People who menstruate.” I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud? -June 2020

War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. The Penised Individual Who Raped You Is a Woman. - December 2021

And in response to someone asking “How do you sleep at night knowing you lost a whole audience?”

I read my most recent royalty cheques and find the pain goes away pretty quickly. -October 2022

PAGE 24

Hashtag Ruthless Productions a queer nerd podcast company created a great guide on ethical engagement with HP. Image: the two hosts of Hashtag Ruthless productions, Jessie (They/she) and Lark (he/him).

Stop buying all official HP Products: books, movies, games, toys, etc, Universal Studios tickets, food, merch.* Boycott any new TV series or movies. Instead: buy the books and DVDs used. If you still want to wear HP merch, buy fan-made. Engage only with fan content: fic, podcasts, fanart, wizard rock, etc. Show transphobia is bad for business. None of this will change JKR’s mind. But the Fantastic Beast series was canceled and after record Pottermore sales in 2020, they fell in 2022 by 40%.

*She gets a portion of ALL tickets. In 2019, this was her largest income source. Read the full guide: hashtagruthless.com/resourceguide

PAGE 25

As late as 2019, I was still reading JKR’s murder mystery series. But by the fourth book my experience began to sour.

Panel 1: Maia holding a copy of Lethal White. “The only gay character in this book is a government official who gropes his staff?”

Panel 2: “The only genderqueer character is misgendered and portrayed as a whiny faker?”

Panel 3: “The only Muslim character is disowned by his family over gay rumors?”

Panel 4: “Even the women aren’t portrayed very well…”

Panel 5: “Why is the main female character defined by the rape in her past?”

Panel 6: “Wait, what happens in the rest of this series…?” Maia scrolls on eir phone.

Panel 7: “Is the series heading towards an employee/boss relationship?”

Panel 8: “And has a man wearing women’s clothes to commit assault?”

Panel 9: “Yeah, I’m done. I’m never reading a new JKR book ever again.”

PAGE 26

And as for JKR herself?

As tempting as it might be to tweet your frustrations at her, I don’t recommend it. In 2021, she tweeted, “Hundreds of trans activists have threatened to beat, rape, assassinate and bomb me.” Getting hate online feeds her sense of victimhood and she waves it as proof of her moral high ground. Instead I suggest you block her on twitter, then delete twitter, go to the library and try to find a new book that feels magical.

Stack of books: In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan, The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Gifts by Ursula K Le Guin, Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir.

PAGE 27

In “Emergent Strategy” adrienne maree brown writes: You do not have the right to traumatize abusive people, to attack them, personally or publicly, or to sabotage anyone else’s health. The behaviors of abuse are also survival-based, learned behaviors rooted in pain. If you can look through the lens of compassion, you will find hurt and trauma there. If you are the abused party, healing that hurt is not your responsibility and exacerbating that pain is not your justified right.

PAGE 28

Seeing anyone over age 12 wearing HP merch now makes me uncomfortable. Are they ignorant or actively a TERF? I hate wondering how much money JKR has probably poured into anti-trans legislation… This zine is a culmination of my slow breakup with a story that once brought me joy. Now it just makes me angry, tired and sad.

Image: Candle in a fancy holder burned down to less than an inch.

Maia Kobabe, 2023

#harry potter #harry potter and the problematic author #jk rowling #transphobia #jk rowling transphobic

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cluemily · 5 months

Text

Cleo and chat had a discussion about what flavour each Life series member is.

Tango is raspberry (or blue raspberry during S9) flavoured.

Pearl is mango flavoured. (5AM Pearl is red bull flavoured.)

Gem is cherry flavoured.

Skizz is banana flavoured Fundip.

Lizzie is pumpkin spice flavoured.

Grian is strawberry flavoured.

Bdubs is Sour Patch Kid flavoured.

Martyn is lemon flavoured. (Lemon-lime is acceptable.)

Scott is peppermint hot chocolate flavoured.

Rendog is hot Cheeto flavoured.

Jimmy is peach flavoured.

Scar is cotton candy flavoured.

Cleo is kiwi flavoured.

BigB is cookie flavoured. But also (smooth) peanut butter flavoured.

Impulse is chocolate flavoured. (Good chocolate, not the vomit-y tasting one.)

Etho is blackcurrant flavoured.

Mumbo is hot cinnamon flavoured.

Joel is cola flavoured.

Thanks Cleo.

#clue watches #i probably missed some cos a bunch got thrown about for one person #but here's a bunch #trafficblr #zombiecleo #<- they wanted it tagged i guess? there we go #if i find the rest i'll edit them in #or u can add them in!

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palescat · 5 months

Text

Flavours assigned to Life Series members by ZombieCleo

Skizz -> Banana Gem -> Cherry Grian -> Strawberry InTheLittleWood -> Lemon(/Lime) ZombieCleo -> Kiwi (/Sour green apple) Etho -> blackcurrant Tango -> (blue) Raspberry Pearl -> Mango Mumbo -> Spicy cinnamon LDshadowlady -> Pumpkin spice Bdubs -> Sourpatch kids Scott -> Peppermint hot chocolate Rendog -> Hot Cheeto Smallishbeans -> Cola Scar -> Cotton candy BigB -> Cookie (/smooth Peanut butter) Impulse -> Chocolate Solidarity -> Peach (5am pearl -> redbull) Will update it once we add more! :D

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strangersmunsons · 3 months

Text

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from.

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much.

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative.

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity.

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no.

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto.

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself.

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —”

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene.

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart.

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!”

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you.

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned.

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly.

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #we're an hour late! sorry bout that

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disillusioneddanny · 2 months

Note

For your random fun one shot

There's a fruit out there called Synsepalum dulcificum(aka miracle berry) that messes with the taste receptors(sour things taste sweet etc). Ectoplasm has a similar effect(for the purpose of the prompt that is, idk if it actually does).

So danny (either as Danny or as phantom)does shots of ectoplasm and tries a bunch of other heroes' favorite foods(starfire's cooking, red robin's and or oracle's caffeine abomination, random leftovers in the fridge, etc) and live streams it for charity while answering fan sent questions.

But then one of the flashes knocks over his shot glass while running by and all the food becomes animated and there's an epic food fight in whichever cafeteria he's in

enjoy a taste of chaos >:))))

Danny’s taste was a little fucked, he would be the first to tell you. There was this thing with ectoplasm that made his taste receptors just a bit different anytime he drank some. And because of this, his favorite thing was grossing out his Titans team mates any chance he could. The team had just as much fun as he did and it was technically Impulse’s idea to do this new tik tok series to introduce himself to the world as the newest member of the Titans.

So, here he was, sitting at the break room table in the tower with vials of ectoplasm and the most fucked up foods his team could think of sitting before him.

There was a cake baked by Miss Martian that Superboy had winced at. A veggie lasagna made by Beast Boy that Nightwing eyed warily. A strange coffee and energy drink combination courtesy of Red Robin. Some kind of casserole that Stafire had excitedly made, and a random assortment of the weirdest snacks that Impulse could find. The entire team was now watching in horror as Danny took a shot of ectoplasm and looked over the terrifying arrangement of food in front of him.

“This feels like a fucked up mukbang,” Danny said with an amused smile.

Red Robin snickered from behind his phone. “What are you going to try first, Phantom? Everyone in the live are making bets on what you’re going to eat first.”

“Are we sure this isn’t going to kill him?” Superboy asked worriedly.

“I’m already dead,” Danny said with a shrug. His teammates all gave him that same look of horror they did any time Danny reminded them all of his mortality. He supposed it was easy for them to forget that Danny was a ghost when the only other ghost they really knew about was Deadman and they were two completely different types of ghosts.

Not only that, but Danny still hadn’t mentioned to any of his teammates that he was only half dead. He had yet to reveal his secret identity to any of them. He had only been a member of the team for about a month and none of them had shared their identities with him so it was only fair that he didn’t share that part of himself with them yet either.

“Oh right,” Nightwing said faintly, that look of horror still on his face.

Danny just gave them a sharp, fanged smile and grabbed the first thing on his tray. A small rock of kryptonite. He supposed it made sense to eat that first considering Superboy was looking sicker and sicker the longer they sat there.

“Are you sure it’s fine for you to ingest kryptonite?” Wondergirl asked, looking a little uneasy.

“Of course, my body breaks it down just like it does human food. It’s all just turned into ectoplasm and energy,” Danny said before popping the rock in his mouth and crunching on it like it was just a piece of bright green rock candy.

He crinkled his nose at the taste, it was almost like eating pure sugar, it kinda made his teeth hurt. The same way it did when he was a kid and got his first cavity.

“Well?” Impulse asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Is it everything I imagine kryptonite tastes like?”

Danny snorted. “It tastes like I’m eating pure sugar,” he said before drinking another vial of ectoplasm.

“That’s so crash!” Impulse shouted, slinging his hands out in excitement as he did. The following events were like slow motion.

Impulse’s hand knocked straight into the tray of ectoplasm vials that seemed to scatter across the table, hitting each fucked up and questionable piece of food or drink on the small table.

From there chaos just simply erupted. Danny braced himself as the pieces of food started to slowly but surely float off of the table, the coffee-energy drink began to take form and create a small fizzy, coffee scented blob ghost that careened straight towards Impulse’s face.

The veggie lasagna quickly grew pinsharp fangs that it gnashed and chomped at Beast Boy, loud screeches coming from its body.

“Oh no,” Danny said, his face pale beyond belief.

“Ph-phantom?” Nightwing stammered, his eyes wide with horror as the casserole that Starfire made started to slowly but surely inch its way towards the eldest hero.

“Red Robin, end the livestream,” Danny hissed as an ectoblast started to form in his hand, his other hand inched towards the thermos that he kept at his hip.

“But-” Red Robin let out a screech as Impulse tackled him just before a random giant pretzel launched itself at the vigilante.

“End the livestream!” Superboy screeched as he shot lasers at the hurtling ball of cabbage that had launched itself at the hero like a cannonball.

“I’m not ending the livestream! We just got so many more viewers joining!” Red Robin shouted back as he started fighting back the chips that were now being flung his way.

“Brace yourselves!” Wondergirl yelled as jello slung itself around the room. Danny just let out a groan as he started shooting ectoblasts, doing his best to subdue the ecto infused food.

He was never letting his team convince him into bringing out the ectoplasm again. This was the worst idea they had ever had.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dis writes #dp x dc crossover #dis dreams #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover

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kiwisbell · 10 months

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for your convenience

hi, all! it's so lovely to see you here 🫶 i'm a university student writing about fictional men played by pedro pascal! i hope you find some enjoyment in one or more of the fics listed below!

no use of y/n. i will burn before i use y/n.

all fics feature a f!reader.

one or two links below will lead you to the tumblr versions, but not all have been cross-posted yet! thank you for your patience <3

ALL fics are explicit and 18+. You are responsible for what you choose to read.

javier peña series: siempre -> las manañas (8 chapters; 69k) (complete) -> darling, so it goes (one-shot; 14k) -> desperado (one-shot; 7k) (ao3 link)

joel miller -> whiskey sour (7 chapters; 54k) (complete) -> boots (one-shot; 4.5k) -> red light (one-shot; 15.8k) -> honey-do (one-shot; 10k) -> candy girl (one-shot; 6k) -> let it snow (one-shot; 5k) -> gloves off (one-shot; 9k) -> yellow bird (one-shot; 2.7k) -> helen (series; ongoing)

din djarin series: told before and told again -> told before and told again (one-shot; 7k) -> the light of the stars (3 chapters; 15k) (complete)

frankie morales -> security details (2 chapters; 19k) (complete) -> loser (one-shot; 7k)

dave york -> larks and katydids (one-shot; 14k) -> the hitman's guide to getting the girl (8 chapters; 45k) (complete)

javi gutierrez -> diamante (one-shot; 7k)

multi -> the devil right beside me (pero tovar, dave york, & frankie morales) (2 chapters; 19k) (complete) -> the impaler (tim rockford & max phillips) (one-shot; 7k)

love you all <33

#pedro pascal #javier peña #joel miller #javi gutierrez #pero tovar #dave york #frankie morales #din djarin #the mandalorian #ao3 fanfic #kiwisbell's fics

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers

Toothpaste

Noodles

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran”

Peanut butter

Sunny D

Thyme

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.”

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer.

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.”

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.”

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.”

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach.

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished.

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls.

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips.

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them.

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even.

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?”

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides.

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face.

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief.

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?”

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.”

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?”

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs,

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

—

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly.

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled.

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours.

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before.

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife.

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold.

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home.

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from.

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids.

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer.

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come.

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess.

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items.

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables.

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking.

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair.

“Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?”

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.”

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away.

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family.

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy.

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit.

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior.

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa.

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies.

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to.

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying.

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left.

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like.

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is.

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.”

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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eddieexcellence · 2 years

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Goooood morning!! 🤠

Bf and his friends woke me up as soon as they came home from work this morning. He gave me an Arnold Palmer tea containing the same amount caffeine in a large Red Bull and I popped my adderall bc I’m feeling spicy. 🫡

I’m feeling chaotic to say the least 🤡

I’m almost to 100 followers whaaaaast that’s crazy but ily all 🥹

Anyways working on part 4 before I have to do things!! 🥸

Would any of you be interested in the playlist I listen to while I write sour candy??? Also pls lmk if you want to be on the taglist before I post part 4!!!

Side note: writers how do you keep your tag lists when you post? I just keep saving the post and go back to the previous replies and make sure I remember the persons url or pic??

#kate updates #sour candy fic #sour candy series #Eddie munson x reader

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55sturn · 1 month

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DEALER!CHRIS WHO… / HEADCANONS

once again inspired by the lovely anna’s [@worldlxvlys] dealer w/ benefits!chris series and the lovely isla’s [@gamermattsgf] sour diesel!

dealer!chris who always has sour candy on standby when he knows his favourite customer is stopping by.

dealer!chris who brings a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts to the coffee table when she spends the night, making sure to lend her something comfy to wear.

dealer!chris who goes commando when he knows she’s gonna come by because it gives easier access.

dealer!chris who makes sure to always keep sour diesel around knowing she gets extremely horny and submissive when she smokes it.

dealer!chris who always has her favourite drink stocked up because she gets the worst pasties when she smokes

dealer!chris who can’t get enough of her obedience when she’s high, wanting to do everything she can to please him.

dealer!chris who lets her measure out grams and baggies for his deals later on because he loves watching the way she tongue peaks out her plump, pink lips when she concentrates.

dealer!chris who always buys cherry flavoured rolling papers because it tastes the same as her lipgloss and he can’t get enough of the taste.

dealer!chris who spends hours laying between her thighs, whether cuddling her or making her scream his name for hours.

dealer!chris who will leave in the middle of a deal the minute she texts him that some creep won’t leave her alone.

dealer!chris who keeps steals a pair of her orange panties after she spent the night and keeps them for nights she can’t stay.

dealer!chris who loves her surprises squeals when he gets rough because he’s normally so tame when he’s high.

dealer!chris who bends her over every surface in his apartment, tainting the place with memories of the way that only he can make her feel.

dealer!chris who very rarely acts submissively but gets so excited when he see the commanding stare she gives him.

dealer!chris who sits her in his lap and lets her roll the first joint, his hands tracing shapes along her skin.

dealer!chris who insists they shotgun the first hit and won’t let her light the joint until she agrees.

dealer!chris who has playboy style posters of his favourite customer all over his bedroom walls.

dealer!chris who has a billion pink, yellow, and red lighters with playboy stickers all over them and refuses to let his friends touch them.

dealer!chris who doesn’t let her go on deals with him because he doesn’t want any of his other customers anywhere near her because some of them are freaks, especially because he deals heavier shit sometimes and he doesn’t want her anywhere near that shit.

dealer!chris who always has a blanket and a change of clothes for her in the backseat when he picks her up because they always stop and get high on late night drives.

dealer!chris who gets her to ride his thigh while they share their second joint of the night.

dealer!chris who stops selling to any other girls the moment she expresses she wants more out of their weirdo in-between relationship, and he gives her exactly what she wants without hesitation.

↳ taglist: @worldlxvlys @sturnioloshacker @33sturniolo @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @thugpugs4lrh @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi i @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11 @kqyslyho3 @hysteria-things [TAGLIST IS FULL!]

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader

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seeingivy · 10 months

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enchanted

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part one of this fic here icymi (read before or its kinda confusing)

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: satoru and your parents are annoying, like in the last part, readers mom just says a bunch of mean shit (including comments on body image, etc), gojo being defensive of his wife but also corny asf, babies megumi + tsumiki having lil nightmares and wanting to sleep w their parents

an: KING OF MY HEART IS ONE OF MY FAV FICS EVER. so glad the pookie who requested this asked for it bc I was so excited writing it. also corny lil enchanted lyrics are at the end. mister satoru gojo is enchanted to meet you and ur lil babies megumi and tsumiki just love you

“Dr. L/N?”

You look up from the computer, breaking away from your sheer focus of charting all the patients you just saw in the past hour (nine patients - which sounds mediocre, but in actuality is insanity on earth).

Because when they’re sick, their parents ask a lot of questions. Which you understand and always honor - but that means you’re always running on a back log, running from one room to the next with no breaks in between. Satoru thinks that you’ll collapse on the floor one day while doing it. And you tell him that he’s praying on your downfall.

“Yes, Sarah? What’s up?”

“Your husband’s here to have lunch with you.”

“Ah. I still haven’t caught up on my charting and I really need to-”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, your senior advisor, Dr. Aoki, giving you a warm smile. She’s almost thirty years your senior - soft wrinkles and grey patches spread throughout her hair.

And she really, really loves Satoru. Which you know because she doesn’t shut up about him, always going on about how sweet he is.

“Go. Have lunch with your husband. I’ll finish off for you.”

“Ah. Dr. Aoki, I can’t let you. Plus, you don’t even know-”

“You take detailed notes. And I’m old, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Now go eat lunch with your sweet husband before I do it for you.”

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before dragging your feet to the breakroom - suddenly hyperaware of the tension in the back of your knees, your shoulders, and the back of your eyes. Satoru’s waiting for you at the center table - two glass bento boxes and two iced coffee’s sitting on the table.

He’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone and you’re more than positive that he’s playing Cut the Rope. A game Megumi begged him to download, but now he plays more than Megumi. Which just pisses Megumi off, because Satoru plays so far ahead in the game that Megumi can’t even remember which level it was he stopped at.

You look down at the cup of iced coffee, Satoru’s handwriting inscribed on the side.

pookie <;3

Bastard. He knows you hate it when you call him that.

Satoru looks up and smacks his phone down at the table as you take his side, placing your head flat against the clear, white table. Satoru immediately directs his hand to the back of your hair, his fingers soothing into the tense muscles in the back of your neck.

“Hello my little workaholic.”

“Good afternoon my little pain in the ass.”

He laughs, lifting your head up as he opens up the boxes, sliding forward the food he made and sticking the fork in your hand. You look down at the line up - egg fried rice and a wild assortments of fruits and vegetables on the side. They’re all cut into sweet little shapes - the cucumbers in hearts, the strawberries in flowers.

Right. You had tasked Satoru with making Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches for one week when you were on the night call. When you had returned, all he did was scold you for making very boring lunches for Megumi and Tsumiki.

Granted, you thought they weren’t half bad. You always made sure to give them a little treat - strawberry gummies for Tsumiki and sour candy for Megumi - and left sweet little notes in their lunch boxes, saying you were proud of them, that Megumi was going to do great on his presentation, and that Tsumiki looked pretty today.

Satoru resolved the situation by heading to the store and buying the special little cutouts, shiny new metal tin boxes for Megumi and Tsumiki, and even glittery stationery to leave them both notes.

Yeah and he never let you make their lunch again. He’d often drop by to the office to eat with you, since he knew that was the only time you would eat anything, and bring you by the third box he arranged with theirs in the morning.

“Hard day, my love?”

“Yeah, Satoru. And it’s not even over yet.”

He places the fork in your hand again, instructing you to eat as you keep talking, tasking himself with mixing up the layers of the coffee he brought you.

“What’s the point of working so hard? Didn’t you marry me for my money?”

“Well, obviously but-”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“That’s so rude to admit. You should keep that type of stuff to yourself.”

“Okay, Satoru. You married me as a cover for your girlfriend and-”

“Stop throwing that in my face! So you have one girlfriend and suddenly you’re the bad-”

“It is when you’re married!”

You both laugh, Satoru ruffling your hair, as he opens up the second box, sliding it towards you as you keep eating.

“You don’t want, Toru?”

“No. They’re both for you. You really do work too hard, Y/N.”

“Well. Our parents could cut us off - we don’t exactly do everything they want. And I want to be self sufficient and be a good role model for-”

“Tsumiki and Megumi. I know, my love. I’m just saying.”

You lean into Satoru’s touch, placing your aching head against his shoulder as he leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. You finish off your own box (and Satoru’s) and down your iced coffee (and half of Satoru’s, before he starts scolding you about healthy caffeine intakes).

He gives you a sweet kiss goodbye, giving soft smiles to the rest of your coworkers, as you buckle in for the rest of your shift.

“Satoru.”

“Hm.”

“Look at what my mom texted me.”

He untangles himself from his position - which is just using you as a third pillow - and peaks his head up, squinting his eyes at your phone in the dark.

Your mom, heinous bitch she is, sent you a text reminding you about all the things you need to do for your dinner with the Gojo’s tomorrow.

Wear a dress. Make sure it’s appropriate, but enough to keep a guy like Satoru interested. You don’t want your husband running off just because you’re boring him.

Make sure to wear the wedding ring Satoru gave you, not the engagement. You’re going to look tacky otherwise.

Fresh flowers, that haven’t bloomed yet. Don’t embarrass me by bringing flowers that’ll die in a day.

And please don’t leave your hair fully down. It washes you out.

Satoru glares at the camera, looking up at your face. He finds it hard to read you in situations like this. Because in all honesty, he knows that you hate your parents. But he doesn’t miss the way you act differently when it comes to them.

Because when you’re mad at Satoru for not picking up Tsumiki on time or at Megumi for not telling you he had a project due tomorrow until nine pm, you get a reasonable amount of mad. Pink in the cheeks, a little bit of scolding, followed by fixing the problem and talking it out.

But with them you, you don’t really talk about it. And he’s not sure if it’s because he’s not privy to the conversations that you have with them, but for some reason, he thinks there aren’t any. And that you just take it, when it’s them.

Which he understands. Too well. That’s part of the reason he’s with you, in this bed right now. Cuddled up in your arms, pressing lazy kisses around your shoulder.

Because his parents asked you to marry him. Because you told him you didn’t mind if he kept his own life outside of it, that you were just doing what you had to do.

And now that he…loves you, parts of it all make him sad. That you’d take someone telling you what to do - telling you that you don’t look good with your hair down when you look good all the time and that you’re tacky or boring or-

“Hey. Y/N.”

“Hm, Satoru?”

“You know I…love you right? For real?”

“Yeah. You told me.”

“But like, for real, okay? Not just because we’re…married or whatever. I actually really, really love you. You’re very pretty and you’re always so good with Megumi and Tsumiki and you’re so good at your job and-”

You stop him in his tracks by cupping his face in his ands, quirking your head to the side. You lean down and peck at his lips, pressing your fingers into his dimples.

“I love you too, Satoru but what’s this about?”

He frowns, placing his head back in your lap as you start running your hands through his white locks of hair, soft to the touch. You can feel his cheeks are warm from his face lying against your bare legs and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s blushing. Even after one year of marriage (and eight months of real marriage), he’s still nervous around you.

“I don’t know. Your mom’s just stupid. You’re not boring or tacky and you look very pretty with your hair down.”

“Thank you, Toru. For getting so offended on my behalf. But I don’t care, let’s go to bed, yeah?”

He nods, shuffling the sheets around you as he sprawls across the bed. One thing about Satoru, he has to touch you when he’s sleeping.

Not in the…dirty way. It could be the coldest night of the year and he has his entire body weight on you, treating you like a stuffed animal he was sleeping with. Or it’s the hottest night of the year and he’s as far away as he can be from you - just placing his hand on your forearm or tangling one of his legs with yours.

Touchy. Even when he’s asleep.

After not even five minutes of sleep, you feel a tapping on your nose, your features crinkling up from the sensation.

“Toru. Quit tickling me.”

He murmurs back incoherently, tangling around in the sheets as a response. Right. Satoru also sleeps like the walking dead. And he can and will sleep anywhere and everywhere, almost instantly. It’s actually a talent.

“Um. That wasn’t him.”

You flutter your eyes open to find Megumi, standing awkwardly at your side. You immediately sit up, clicking on the light as Satoru starts groaning behind you, smacking his hand on the bed to get you to turn the light off. You look over at the clock and realize it’s well past three, meaning Megumi should have been asleep hours ago.

“Megs. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. But Tsumiki, she’s like crying a lot. Usually, what I do works but she just won’t stop.”

You shake Satoru at your side, his eyes finally fluttering open as he looks at you and Megumi in confusion.

“Megumi-chan. You better be interrupting our sleep for something good.”

“Satoru, stop it. Go get Tsumiki. Now. I think she’s crying.”

Satoru immediately stands up, stalking out of the room as you turn back to Megumi, taking his tiny hands in yours. He looks like he usually does - blank expression on his face, avoiding eye contact, tiredness on his face.

You wrap one of your hands around his cheek and squeeze, feeling his skin warm under your touch.

“What do you think happened, Megs?”

“She had a bad dream. Usually, we kind of just stay with each other till it stops. But, it didn’t really work.”

“Have you had them while you were here? Or her?”

“Yeah sometimes.”

You can feel your heart clench in your chest and you immediately wrap Megumi in your arms, brushing your hands through his soft, black hair. You can still smell the shampoo in his hair from earlier, the fresh smell springing into your nose. They should be coming to you. Not each other. Megumi’s only five. And she’s just seven.

“Megumi. You know you can come to us about that stuff. Both of you. And you should be because we know how to help you and-”

You stop talking as Satoru walks into the room, craning your head to the side to survey the situation. Satoru’s carrying Tsumiki in his arms, something he doesn’t do very often, and you can hear her soft sniffles as he places her on the bed between you, rubbing circles into her back.

You take the cup of water on the nightstand (that Satoru leaves out for you everyday so you can stay hydrated) and hand it to her, directing her to calm her breaths. She’s shaking so hard and her eyes are so pink that she can barely hold the glass, Satoru taking it from her hands and tilting her head up so she can drink it.

You look over at Megumi, his eyes twitching as he looks at Tsumiki, and you direct him to sit on the bed next to you, right next to Tsumiki and in between you and Satoru.

You never really know what to do in situations like this. And neither does Satoru. I mean hell, you’re only twenty-three and Satoru’s only twenty-four. And they haven’t been your kids for too long.

Other parents, the ones who come into your practice, talk about how they know somethings wrong. They can feel it in their gut. Their parental instinct. But you don’t have any of that, especially not with Tsumiki and Megumi.

And you know it’s not something you can learn and something that just comes from being their parents, but you sincerely wish it was. Because Tsumiki and Megumi deserve to have someone who can read them like that, who knows what’s wrong with them, and talks for them when they don’t know how. And-

Satoru opens up his arms, with Tsumiki crawls into his lap and curls herself up against his chest. She looks so small, barely covering his entire frame as she hiccups into his chest, pushing the back of her hand against his eyes.

Satoru beckons Megumi to join her and he awkwardly crawls up, the two of them nestled in Satoru’s arms. Maybe you spoke too soon. Because it always seems like Satoru knows what he’s doing.

“You too, goofy.”

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to them, laying your head against Satoru’s shoulders as you start running your hands through Tsumiki’s hair, rubbing soft circles into the small of her back like Satoru was earlier.

“Hi Miki.”

“H-hi Y/N.”

“How you feeling, sweet girl?”

“O-okay.”

You soften your hands in her hair, focusing on braiding the ends as you talk, the three of them hanging on to every word you say.

“Miki, Megs. I know you’ve…been together for a long time. Before me and Satoru came around. And I’m sure you have your own ways of…being there for each other. But, you can let us be there for you too, you know?”

You feel Tsumiki stiffen under your touch and you pull back, holding the braid in place on your head.

“I don’t mean to let each other go. You’re siblings and that’s one of the most important relationships you can have. But just know, Satoru and I can be smart sometimes. Well, I can. I don’t really know about him.”

“Hey.”

Tsumiki and Megumi laugh, which stops Satoru’s protests all together. It’s working. And Satoru’s jealous of you, because as always, you know the right thing to say. To get them to smile again, tell you what’s wrong. And sure, you’ve always had that effect on Satoru but he loves that you can do it with them too. You’ve clearly got this parenting thing more figured out than him, he thinks.

“But, we can help you too, you know? I’m a big girl. I can deal with whatever you give me.”

Tsumiki turns to the side, crawling out of Satoru’s lap as she crawls into yours, squeezing herself in your arms.

“Th-thanks, Y/N. But maybe not right now?”

“Whenever you want, okay? Let’s just go to bed now, it’s late.”

“Can I sleep with you, Y/N? And Satoru?”

Satoru leans forward, squeezing Tsumiki’s hand in hers as he nods, opening up the covers for her. Megumi awkwardly looks between you and Satoru and you catch on fast, signaling for him to join you under the covers as well. The four of you are squished together, Tsumiki clinging on to you and Megumi clinging on to Satoru.

They both fall asleep fast and you give a weary look to Satoru in the dark, which he returns with a smile.

You hate leaving at a time like this. And you hate your parents and even Gojo’s parents for making you come to a stupid dinner like this.

Your kids, that they don’t know about, need you. You had tried your best to make Tsumiki comfortable, making her a stack of warm, strawberry pancakes and letting her pick what you guys ate for lunch.

And when you had to leave her with Nanami and Shoko to go see the Gojo’s, you swear you could feel your heart clench at the thought of leaving her. And Megumi. And of the two of them being uncomfortable without you there.

You could tell from the look in Satoru’s eyes that he shared your sentiments, his gaze weary as he said goodbye, lingering by the door until you two really had to leave. And then you both made your trek to the Gojo Estate.

And god do you hate it here. In all but ten minutes of dinner, your mother, assfucking clown she was, had already found ten different things to pick on.

Your hair has split ends, you should cut it.

You should slow down on the food.

You could have worn a more flattering color.

Every spiky comment she makes, Satoru squeezes his hand in yours under the table, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for him and the soft looks he was giving you every few minutes, you’re sure you would have broken the centerpiece in the middle of the table by now.

“Say, Y/N, Satoru.”

You look up to find Mr. Gojo beaming at you, the smile not meeting his eyes. You can feel Satoru’s hand tense in yours under the table and you know it’s your turn to protect him from his dad.

“Did you start trying for kids?”

“Dad.”

“What, Satoru? It’s an important question. You guys have been married for a year now and surely there’s no better time than now to start trying.”

You can feel your mouth dry at the thought. Kids. Kids of your own. Like, a crying, pooping baby - half parts you and half parts Satoru.

How in the world could they think you were ready for that? Because in all honesty, Satoru’s your husband in name but he feels like your boyfriend.

You’ve been together for eight months. You haven’t gone on a vacation together or met his college best friend and you don’t know what his favorite smoothie flavor is or what the first car he drove was and they want you to start popping out kids?

You and Satoru aren’t ready for kids. And really, you already have two kids. That need you right now. And you have all the time in the world to have more and you really, really just like things the way they are. For now, and-

“They’ll get working on it.”

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head as you crane your neck to look at your mom, a self-assured smile placed on her face. She can’t really be serious, can she?

“Oh, how sweet! A grandchild. Oh, I do hope it’s a boy. So we can pass on the Gojo name and all.”

It’s Satoru’s turn to glare at his mother and you’re sure that he has the same bitter taste in his mouth as you. Sure, they were the reason you guys got married but they had no right to treat you guys like this. Like you were put together to make some offspring for them to fawn over.

“Although, I wouldn’t mind a girl. Boys can be rowdy and insensitive.” says Mr. Gojo, a matter-of-fact tone in his words.

“That’s not true. Boys can be sensitive too. You just have to raise them right.” you respond, muttering the words under your breath.

Megumi’s sweet and sensitive. He always avoids stomping on flowers growing out of the cracks of the cement and he always writes cards for his teachers on holiday’s and always says please and thank you after every little thing you and Satoru do for him, even if it is under his breath.

“Well, I hope it’s a boy. Girls come with attitude.” your dad responds, the implication in his tone clear.

“No daughter of ours would take back-handed comments like that.”

Because Tsumiki’s never done that. Because Satoru remembers the day someone tried to pick on her in her class and all she did was calmly respond. Stand her ground, surely but firmly. Something he’s sure that she learned from you. And to think someone could dismiss that off as attitude is so fucking-

You squeeze Satoru’s hand under the table, signaling him to stop. Because he’s being rude. Because he shouldn’t talk back to your father even if he’s wrong and-

“Satoru. Stop.” you whisper, awkwardly eyeing the four of them as he deflates.

The four of you awkwardly sit in silence, the forks clicking against the plates. Satoru’s crushing your hand into oblivion under the table and you can see that he’s agitated from the way his shoulders are all scrunched up. And when his dad talks next, he really can’t hold it in anymore.

“Satoru, son. All you have to do take her to bed one time to pass on the Gojo na-”

Satoru smacks his fist against the table, the glassware making a loud noise against the surface. You look over to find Satoru smoldering, the way he often did when he was near his dad.

“Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s not some thing for you to use. You can try that shit on anyone else but you know damn well I’m not letting you do it to her.”

Mrs. Gojo’s features scrunch up in frustration, a pinched look on her face as she starts massaging the bridge of her nose. Satoru stands up, pulling you up with him as he stomps out, dragging you out with him.

You two drive in silence the entire way home. Satoru’s still smoldering in his drivers seat, jaw tight against his skin as he clenches his fists on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. And you’re unsure of what you can say to him to ease it, make him feel better.

He parks the car in the driveway, leaning his head against the seat to look up through the sunroof, the stars glittering in the sky above you. He makes no motions to get out of the car, the engine and lights still turned on despite the fact that you and Satoru were home.

“Y/N.”

“Hm, Satoru?”

“You-you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Are you?”

He doesn’t respond and instead loosens his tie, the fabric hanging from the sides of his collar.

“I just…hate them. So much. Why would we rush having a child when we aren’t ready? And who are they to talk about you like that? Like all I keep you around for is to bear my children.”

You’re not sure what to say so you snake your hand into his, leaning over the glove box to lean onto his shoulder. You can feel him deflate under you, leaning his head on top of yours as he presses his hand against your waist, his hands rubbing back and forth on the fabric.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah, love?”

“You feel like my boyfriend, right now. I know you’re my husband but…we’ve only been together for eight months. And I know it’s weird to say but…I’d like to have a kid with you someday just…not now.”

His hand comes up, angling your face up so you’re looking at him, a big smile spread across his face. You can feel your cheeks burning from the admission and you clench your eyes shut to avoid seeing the teasing look on Satoru’s face.

“Y/N. You’d want to have kids with me?”

You nod and Satoru’s face splits into a big smile, his hands shaking in yours.

“Well, yeah. It would be cute, when the time is right. Megumi and Tsumiki can have a little sibling and it’ll be like…a little us.

“A little us?”

“Your nose, my eyes, hopefully all of my looks and none of your annoyingness.”

“You’re so sweet, Y/N. I don’t know how I ever lucked out with such a charming girl like you.” he responds, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You laugh in response, beaming at him as you talk on.

“I love you, Satoru. And I’d love to have kids with you but we’re just…we already have two kids and I think they need us right now. They haven’t opened up yet and-”

“I know, sweet. I agree. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than putting a baby in your right here, right now in this car but-”

“Pervert.”

“Why are you so rude? Every word is like a bullet wound in my chest.”

You lean over, pressing a kiss to his chest as you lean back and glare at him. He smiles at you, a sweet look on his face.

“What was that for?”

“You said bullet wound in your chest. I was just kissing your ego better.”

He leans forward, cupping your face as he kisses you, hanging off the ends of your lips as he squeezes his face in your hands. He pulls apart, pressing kisses all over your face as he talks, his words making your cheeks burn.

“You’re so-”

Kiss.

“Damn cute.”

Kiss.

“I hate you sometimes.”

Kiss.

“When we have kids, I hope they’re all like you. Pretty eyes, soft hair, snarky attitude. She’ll be so easy to love, all goofy and idiotic like you.”

“She, Satoru?”

“Oh, she’s totally going to be a girl. My three girls. You, Tsumiki, and her.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out already?”

“Well, I’m waiting. For when you’re ready and I’m ready and all that. But yeah. I’ve already seen how our entire life is going to play out. You and I are going to grow old together. Sick it to our parents. Have the type of love kids dream about. All that lovey-dovey stuff.”

You and Satoru, hands pressed together, pad into the dark of the house, slowly climbing up the stairs. When you amble into your bed room, you can hear soft snores in your bed - Tsumiki and Megumi fast asleep under your sheets. There’s a tiny little sticky-note pressed to the light switch, which you and Satoru both squint at.

They want to sleep with "their parents”. Their words, not ours. - Shoko

You and Satoru quickly peel out of your clothes and climb under the sheets - Satoru leaning over to press a kiss to all three of your heads before fluttering his own eyes shut.

And you hate to say it, because all in all the night wasn’t perfect, but you really, really don’t want to let it go. Every part of this night is…sparkling in your mind. Satoru defending you, telling you that he loves you, that he wants to have kids with you. You-

You count yourself lucky. That you don’t have to wonder if Satoru is in love with someone else or what he thinks about you or any other thing.

Because you know the person he’s waiting on is you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters

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thatdammchickennugget · 13 days

Text

Love Is Embarrassing - Part Eight

>> when are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad? <<

pairing - theodore nott x fem! reader

summary - when you agree to help Theo out with a bet, you learn that maybe the bad boy isn't actually that bad

warnings - a little angsty, jealous!theo, mention of y/n

wordcount - 3.7k

a/n - okay, I finally managed to finish this last chapter. thank you so much to everyone who is still reading and commenting, even though it took me months to wrap this up. I love and appreciate you 💕

series masterlist

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store cast a bright glow over the aisles, illuminating the colorful array of products lining the shelves. Theo strolled through the store, while you sat in the cart, snacks and essentials piled high around you.

The grocery store aisles became their battleground as they playfully bantered over the best candy for their movie night. With each turn down a new aisle, the debate intensified. Theo's arguments for the tangy delight of sour candies clashed with your unwavering devotion to the sweet satisfaction of chocolate.

Your banter echoed through the grocery store aisles, drawing amused glances from other shoppers. You grinned mischievously from your perch in the cart, throwing playful jabs at Theo's taste in candy while he retaliated with mock indignation.

As you rounded the corner into the snack aisle, a familiar voice called out, interrupting your lively debate. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n!"

You turned to see a young man standing before you, a wide smile spread across his face. He was tall and lanky, with tousled red hair that seemed to defy gravity, and a pair of bright blue eyes that sparkled with warmth and familiarity. It took you a moment to recognise who was talking to you. He was someone you used to go to school with, a friendly face from your hometown that you hadn't seen in years. You remembered his mother used to be friends with yours and wondered if they still talked.

"Jake! Wow, it's been forever," you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him.

Theo's expression shifted imperceptibly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he observed the exchange between you and Jake. He remained silent, pushing the cart forward as you engaged in conversation with your old friend.

"Hey, yeah, it really has," Jake replied with a grin, his eyes scanning over Theo before returning to you. "Looks like you've got some company."

You nodded, gesturing toward the tall boy behind you. "Yeah, this is Theo. He's a friend from college. We’re visiting for the holidays."

"Nice to meet you, Theo," Jake said, extending a hand.

Theo shook it with a polite smile, though you couldn't help but notice the slight tensing of his jaw. "Likewise."

"So, what brings you guys to the grocery store?" Jake asked, falling into step beside the cart as you continued down the aisle.

"We're stocking up for a movie night," you explained, reaching for a bag of popcorn on the shelf. "Trying to decide on the best snacks."

Jake chuckled. "Ah, the eternal struggle. Sweet or savory?"

"Exactly," you agreed. "We've been debating it all afternoon."

"Well, if you ask me, you can't go wrong with a good mix of both," Jake suggested, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. "Cover all your bases, you know?"

You laughed, nodding in agreement as you took the bag from his hands, stashing down at your feet. "That's true."

As you caught up with Jake, sharing stories and reminiscing about the past, Theo's demeanor became increasingly guarded. He made casual remarks, joining in the conversation, but there was a subtle tension in his voice that betrayed his unease.

You couldn't help but notice the shift in Theo's demeanor, sensing the underlying tension beneath his attempts to appear unaffected. Despite his efforts to hide it, his jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, evident in the way he subtly tightened his grip on the cart handle. You assumed he was growing tired of being in the store and wanted to go home.

"So, Y/n, it's been ages since we hung out," Jake said, his tone filled with enthusiasm as he glanced between you and Theo. "Mind if I crash your movie night?"

You hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Theo before responding. "Uh, well, my mom wouldn't really be a fan of that...Danny hasn’t been feeling well and she doesn’t really want the house to be even fuller, you know."

Theo's grip on the cart tightened slightly, a subtle indication of his discomfort with the idea. You could sense his unease, and while you didn't want to upset him, you also didn't want to leave Jake hanging. "But we should definitely catch up sometime this week," you continued, offering Jake a friendly smile. "How about we grab coffee or something?"

Jake's expression brightened at the suggestion, seemingly unfazed by the rejection of the movie night invitation. "That sounds great! I'll shoot you a text and we'll figure out a time."

"Sounds like a plan," you agreed, relieved that Jake was understanding.

Jake bid you farewell with a friendly wave before heading off to finish his own shopping. As he disappeared around the corner, you turned your attention back to Theo, who had fallen unusually quiet. "Hey, you okay?" you asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

Theo shrugged, his gaze fixed on the items lining the shelves. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."

You frowned, not entirely convinced by his response. "Are you sure? You seemed a little... off back there."

He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, really. Let's just finish up here and head home."

Deciding not to press the issue further for now, you nodded, though a sense of unease lingered in the back of your mind. Theo's sudden change in demeanor had caught you off guard, and while you wanted to believe his explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him.

●・○・●・○・●

Later that night, as you settled in for movie night, the tension between you and Theo remained palpable. He had taken a seat next to Danny, much to your little brother's excitement, leaving you to occupy the spot on the other side of the couch. You tried to brush off the unease gnawing at you, attributing it to Theo's earlier mood and hoping that he would warm up as the evening progressed.

Throughout the movie, Theo seemed distant, his attention focused solely on the screen. You caught glimpses of his profile in the dim glow of the television, his features drawn and unreadable. Despite your attempts to engage him in conversation or share a joke, he remained reserved, his responses curt and unenthusiastic.

As the movie played on, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You stole glances at Theo, hoping for some sign that he was feeling better, but he remained aloof, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"That girl reminds me so much of Pansy," you reached around Danny and nudged him gently, trying to draw him into the moment.

He offered a half-hearted chuckle in response, but his eyes never left the television. Your heart sank further at his lack of engagement, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever.

When your mom suggested playing a game after the movie, you saw an opportunity to break the tension. "That sounds like fun, doesn't it?" you glanced over at Theo, hoping for a spark of enthusiasm.

But he shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. I'm feeling pretty tired."

Disappointment washed over you as you watched him stand up and make his way towards the stairs. "Oh, okay. Well, goodnight, then," you forced a smile, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

"Night," Theo replied softly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth as he disappeared upstairs.

After the game ended, you made your way upstairs, feeling a heavy weight in your chest. The events of the evening lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of unease that refused to dissipate.

Entering your room, you found Theo already lying in bed, his back turned towards you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Quietly, you slipped under the covers, careful not to disturb him. Tentatively, you reached out to him, your fingers lightly brushing against his back as they had the night before.

To your surprise, he recoiled at your touch, pushing your hand away before shifting further away from you. The rejection stung, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through your chest as you withdrew your hand, feeling the distance between you grow even wider.

Heart heavy with disappointment and confusion, you lay there in silence. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, the ache of unspoken words weighing heavily on your mind.

●・○・●・○・●

The next morning, you awoke to find Theo's side of the bed empty, a cold reminder of the distance that had grown between you overnight. Pushing aside the covers, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach.

Descending the stairs, you followed the sound of soft conversation to the living room, where you found Theo seated beside your mother, a smile gracing his features as they engaged in lively conversation. Your mother sat in her favorite armchair, her knitting needles in her hands, while Theo held the yarn for her, his expression one of genuine warmth.

You stood there for a moment, watching the scene unfold before you, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over you. Confusion battled with longing, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy camaraderie between Theo and your mother. You couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly acting so cold towards you, all of it reminding you of those last weeks you shared with Grady.

As you observed them, a sudden realization dawned upon you, crystal clear and undeniable. It hit you with the force of a revelation, leaving you breathless and reeling. In that moment, you understood the depth of your feelings for Theo, the profound connection that had blossomed between you, unnoticed and unspoken.

You had fallen for him, deeply and irrevocably, in a way you had never imagined possible. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you as you grappled with the newfound truth.

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, you barely noticed your mother's gaze turning toward you, her warm smile inviting you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether you were ready to face Theo right now.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted you, her voice soft and comforting. "Come join us."

With a small nod, you crossed the room to take a seat beside Theo, trying to ignore the chasm of distance that seemed to have grown between you overnight. His smile faltered slightly as you approached, and the view felt like a kick to your stomach.

"Morning," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced at the boy beside you, searching for any sign of the warmth that had usually filled his gaze when looking at you.

He met your eyes briefly before turning his attention back to your mother, his smile returning, albeit slightly forced. "Morning, trouble."

Despite the tension lingering in the air, your mother seemed oblivious to it. She continued to chat animatedly, her happy voice filling the room.

As the conversation lulled, you seized the opportunity to broach the subject of spending the day together. "Hey, do you want to do anything today?" you asked tentatively, nudging the side of his leg with yours.

He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Actually, I'll be pretty busy today," he replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Your mom and I have been talking about some things she's been procrastinating on fixing around the house, and I promised her I'd do some of it today."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at his response, though you tried to mask it with a supportive smile. "That's sweet of you," you said softly. "Do you need any help?"

He shook his head, his gaze flickering briefly to meet yours. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather do it alone," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

You swallowed back the hurt that threatened to rise in your throat, forcing a smile as you nodded in understanding. "Okay, just let me know if you change your mind," you replied, though the words felt hollow on your tongue.

Sitting there, the realization of your feelings for him weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself contemplating your next move. Your mind drifted back to Jake and the casual invitation you had extended to catch up over coffee.

With Theo occupied for the day, the prospect of spending time with an old friend seemed more appealing than ever.Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Jake's number. With a hesitant finger hovering over the screen, you debated whether to send the text.

"Since you're going to be busy today, I might text Jake and see if he wants to hang out. Is that okay?"

Theo's expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes before he shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds fine.”

You sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of disappointment at Theo's response, but you nodded, trying to hide any trace of your feelings. "Alright, I'll let you get to it then," you said, forcing a smile.

Walking back upstairs and entering your room, you sank onto the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the space offering little solace. Resting your head in your hands, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, the realization of your feelings for Theo crashing over you like a tidal wave.

●・○・●・○・●

As you stepped into the quiet house, the familiar creak of the front door seemed to echo in the silence. The subdued atmosphere enveloped you like a heavy blanket, casting a pall over your spirits as you made your way to the kitchen.

There, you found Theo sitting alone at the table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated his features, casting shadows across his face that seemed to deepen the lines of tension etched there.

"Hey," you greeted him softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.

He looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking away. "Hey," he replied, his tone guarded.

Sensing the tension in the air, you hesitated for a moment before taking a seat opposite him at the table. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you spoke up. "I just got back from hanging out with Jake," you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the undercurrent of unease.

Theo's grip on his mug tightened slightly, though he maintained his composure. "Oh, did you have fun?" he asked, his words laced with a hint of passive-aggression.

You bristled at the tone of his question, sensing the underlying tension beneath his seemingly casual inquiry. "Yeah, it was nice," you replied carefully, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Theo's lips twitched into a tight smile, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil swirling within him. "Good to know," he muttered, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew increasingly strained. You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap between you, but you didn't know where to begin. As you tried to come up with something else to say, your body froze when you heard him scoff.

The noise cut through the tense silence like a knife, leaving you feeling like you'd been slapped. The suddenness of it startled you, and you couldn't help but recoil slightly, a mixture of confusion and hurt flashing across your features.

"What?" you demanded, your voice sharper than intended as you searched his face for any hint of an explanation.

Theo hesitated, his gaze darting away from yours as if seeking refuge in the shadows of the room. "Nothing," he muttered, his tone defensive. "Forget it."

But you couldn't forget it, couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong between you. "No, I won't forget it," you insisted, your voice rising with each word as you stood up from your chair to round the table. "You've been acting weird since yesterday, and I don’t know what happened. Tell me what's going on, Theo."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to answer. But then, with a heavy sigh, he relented, his words dripping with frustration. "Fine, you want to know what's going on? I'll tell you. I'm tired of this."

Theo's words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. You stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to continue, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Tired of what?" you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried the weight of a thousand unanswered questions.

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the storm raging behind his eyes. "Tired of pretending," he replied, his voice low and filled with bitterness. "Tired of pretending that you're mine when you're not."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with disbelief. "What do you mean?" you demanded, your voice rising in pitch as you struggled to comprehend his words.

Theo stood up from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "You know exactly what I mean," he shot back, his frustration boiling over into anger. "You keep stringing me along, making me think that there's something between us when there's not."

His accusations cut deep, slicing through the fragile facade of your relationship and leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "That's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling. "I've never tried to lead you on, Theo. I care about you more than anything."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep going from being all over me when we’re alone to introducing me as your ‘friend’" he countered, his voice rising with each word as he took a step closer to you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why do you keep pretending like there's nothing between us when we both know that's not true?"

"I'm not pretending," you insisted, your voice cracking as you met his gaze head-on. "I'm just... scared."

Theo's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "Scared of what?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

"Scared of losing you," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "Scared of ruining what we have because I'm too afraid to admit how much you mean to me."

Theo's anger seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I'm scared too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to take your hand in his. "Scared of letting you go because I'm too afraid to admit that I love you."

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you and Theo stood there, locked in each other's gaze, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. The tension that had once divided you now seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw vulnerability of your shared emotions.

Without a word, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around Theo in a tight embrace. He responded eagerly, pulling you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

"I love you," you whispered against his chest, the words spilling forth from your heart without hesitation.

Theo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

Without another word, Theo cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. His thumbs brushed lightly against your cheeks, tracing the curve of your jawline as if committing every detail of your face to memory. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Drawing you closer, Theo's arms enveloped you, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in the space between you.

With a gentle tilt of his head, Theo closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up emotions, all the longing, and all the unspoken words that had lingered between you.

As the kiss deepened, you melted into Theo's embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

Lost in the sweetness of the moment, you felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Every brush of Theo's lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with an intensity you had never known.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves lost in each other's gaze once more, jumping at the sound of a voice clearing behind you, bringing you back out of your stupor.

Turning around, you found your mother standing in the doorway, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she observed the scene before her, the tension that had filled the room moments ago now replaced with an air of affection.

"I've been wondering when you two would finally make it official," she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you couldn't help but smile at her playful tone. "Alright, let me do this right this time," you said, gesturing to the boy beside you. "Mom, this is Theo. My boyfriend."

Your mother's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she glanced between you and Theo. "Well, it's about time," she chuckled. With a final wink in your direction, she turned and retreated from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

You turned back to Theo, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, was that better?" you joked, a hint of relief in your voice.

Theo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his hands found your waist again. "Perfect.” With a playful grin, he pulled you into another sweet kiss.

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