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thisapplepielife · 2 months

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Stayin' Alive

Day #17 - "This One's For You" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie, Mention of Pre-Robin/Vickie | Tags: Post S4, But Eddie Lives, But Is Still Recovering, Getting Together, First Kiss, The Band Has a Surprise For Eddie at The Hideout, Steve Harrington Just Wants To Help, Henderson Too

Eddie didn't want to go, didn't want to be paraded anywhere in this town, not after the whole wrongly accused of a grizzly murder or three, saga. But the band was insistent that he come out tonight, and if he has to show his face somewhere in Hawkins, The Hideout isn't the worst place to be, he supposes. At least a few of the regulars here know him well enough to not expect him to skin them alive after the first set.

"You comfortable? Need anything? A drink?" Henderson asks in quick succession, hovering around, squirming, like it's his first time in the place. Come to think of it, it probably is.

"Henderson, just calm down. It's a bar, not Babylon," Eddie says dryly, and Dustin slumps in his chair.

"Just trying to help," Dustin says, petulant. Sullen.

"What's the little asshole doing now?" Steve asks, sprawling himself into the seat on the other side of Eddie.

Oh, thank god. Another adult.

"Thinks he's gonna be corrupted," Eddie answers, "Glad you made it, Harrington."

"Robin's still coming, but she's still trying to get Vickie to come with, but she's too scared to ask. So, that's not, you know, working out so well for her. Vickie's not all mind read-y, last I checked," Steve says, stretching his arm behind Eddie's chair, resting it lightly against his shoulders.

Eddie tries not to lean into the touch. Has to remind himself that Steve's just being friendly, and has been that way, since they got out of the Upside Down. All through his stay in the hospital, and rehab, and the weeks, months, spent at home, just trying to regain his strength and sense of normalcy.

Steve's been there, too close, too invested, and Eddie's dealt with it.

But tonight, here they are, out in public, and Steve's acting the same way.

Eddie kind of hates it.

Kind of loves it, too.

Steve is absentmindedly running his fingertips up and down Eddie's shoulder as he talks, and Eddie's not hearing a word he's saying. His whole body dialed in on those little movements, as Steve's brushing his t-shirt, ruffling the soft cotton against his skin.

He wants to lean in. He wants to lean away.

Mainly, he wants to run.

But that's definitely not an option, running isn't in the cards, not yet. Maybe not ever, so he's stuck here. Wedged between the nervous bundle of energy that is Dustin Henderson and the lazy relaxation of Steve Harrington.

It's hell. Pure hell.

They sit through the first two bands that aren't very good, and by the time Corroded Coffin is set to take the stage, Eddie's already exhausted. He feels eighty instead of twenty, but he's had a hard time bouncing back. Everything feels harder, and worse, and he'd really rather just be home in his bed, or chair, left alone.

Well, except for Steve and Henderson. And Wayne. None of them give him a moment's peace. They are a tag-team of mother hens, and Eddie's certain they have an internal schedule that never leaves him alone for longer than ten minutes. When Wayne or Dustin or Steve aren't there, can't be for whatever reason, Gareth is. Or Jeff. Or Goodie. Maybe all three at once. Showing up like clockwork, some flimsy excuse for their sudden arrival.

He's being babysat. Hardcore.

The band is ready on stage, and it feels weird, seeing the three of them up there without him. He knows he's not out, he's just not able, not yet. Can't quite play the guitar as well as he used to, and definitely can't stand long enough to play a full set.

So he's here, in the crowd, watching. It's a special kind of torture, he thinks. Watching his own band go on without him. It's not permanent, at least Eddie hopes it's not, but still. Torture.

"This one's for you, Eddie," Jeff says, and Eddie's eyes lock on the stage.

Gareth clicks his sticks together, counting them in, and Goodie comes in with a smokin' bass line, and Gareth's riding his cymbals, and Eddie perks up in his seat. This isn't, no way…

And it is.

Jeff's falsetto is something, that's for damn sure.

This is Stayin' Alive.

And Eddie laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months. Since maybe before spring break, and Steve is looking at him, like he's in awe, Eddie can feel it. But he can't look away from the stage. From his friends.

They play some of their own songs, and some more covers, but that one had been for Eddie and Eddie alone.

After, the band crowds around, and Eddie is happy to have them nearby again. He's missed them, and when it's time to go, Eddie is pawned off onto Steve to take home.

Steve helps him into the car, putting the walker in the backseat, folded up and out of the way. Eddie hates it. Hates everything about being laid up, still hurt, still weak.

"Everything good?" Steve asks, looking in his direction and Eddie nods. He's as comfortable as he's ever gonna be, at least, unmedicated.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"I'm glad you came out tonight," Steve says, looking in his direction, smiling, "I was worried Dustin wouldn't get you here."

"You don't have to worry about me, Harrington," Eddie says, and that just makes Steve smile harder for some reason.

"I'm always worried about you, Eddie," Steve says, and that can't possibly be true, and Eddie laughs.

Steve looks so fucking earnest, "Really. I'm happy you're here tonight. I'm happy you're anywhere tonight."

"Quit flirting with me, Harrington," Eddie teases, and it's funny for the brief second before Steve's face falls.

Shit.

No fucking way.

Eddie reaches out, leans over, snagging Steve's hand, "You're flirting with me?"

Steve kind of shrugs his shoulders, in the most non-committal way, but his face tells all his secrets.

"Steve?"

"A little. If you're not interested, if I'm-"

Eddie cuts him off, crushing their lips together.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt seventeen: this one's for you #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #dustin henderson #corroded coffin fic #steddie fic #steddie #ccf day seventeen: this one's for you #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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yournightmary · 3 months

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Jackson!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, mentions of being drunk

AN:: I love fluff.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who somehow always has an excuse to talk to you or for you to come over. You wanted to watch a specific movie? She has a DVD of it! You want to learn how to shoot a bow? She’s the first in line to be your teacher.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who loves when you laugh at her unfunny jokes. Gets them all from her stupid little ‘No Pun Intended’ books.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who always makes you share a horse with her whenever you go on patrols. Says something about being ‘economical’, yeah- whatever.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who smiles whenever she thinks about you. Just staring off to the distance with a goofy smile like a schoolgirl.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who takes care of you more than of herself. She’ll be worried about you seeing an infected while she’s being swarmed by 3 bloaters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who has a talent for finding good quality vinyls. She has a whole collection of music from the 60s/70s. Loves ‘Stand By Me’, ‘(Don’t Fear) The Reaper’ and ‘Stayin’ Alive’ (because I said so).

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who makes you dance with her to said songs whenever she gets slightly drunk/high. Gets embarrassed by it once she’s sober.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who was so oblivious and stupid you had to make the first move or you’d be stuck in limbo forever.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who is really awkward when it comes to affection, but it’s cute? Like she’s blushing, looking away and all that stuff.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who told you she’s immune one time when she was shitfaced and didn’t remember it the next day. Then on patrol you were passing by a shopping mall and you joked about it and she thought you were a mind reader or something.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who keeps every single note you give her, maybe glues them into her journal. One time she found a red lipstick and begged asked you to kiss some of the pages.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who is always humming some songs to herself. Literally all the time, maybe even in her sleep.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who begged Maria to let you both move in together to a bigger house. She got tired of living by herself in an old garage😔

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who carves your initials in a heart into almost every tree she sees.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who will always prioritize your needs. If she finds any clothes while on patrol, they’re yours. You’re running out of food? She’ll give you every last crumb.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who sings you love songs ‘as a joke’ but she’s just afraid you’ll find it corny or won’t like it. Give her some words of affirmation, please🙏

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who doesn’t let you around Joel because you both team up and poke fun at her. (She secretly loves you both get along so well)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who doesn’t care about having a wedding or anything like that, I mean come on- it’s the apocalypse. But she’ll be more than happy to give you a ring.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie whose only purpose in life is to make you happy (since there won’t be a cure lol). She’ll go above and beyond, whatever it might be- just to make her girl’s life better.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who loves to go back to the old pages in her journal, the ones when she first met you and you started dating. Maybe even showed them to you on your anniversary.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who is like a kid and will make everything into a competition. She’ll race you and trip ‘on accident’ so you can win though. Btw, still calls herself the Brick Master, even if no one understands.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jackson!Ellie who at least once a week will remember you’re her girlfriend and starts giggling and kicking her feet.

I need to read some ff myself.

#the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcannons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #lesbian #wlw #ellie williams

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keepin-it-on-the-d-l · 1 year

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Some songs that would KILL in a Dungeons and Daddies show/movie adaptation:

Stayin Alive by The Bee Gees playing as the Daddies fight The Library (cuts off abruptly when Erin gets curb-stomped)

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) is also a really good pick for a fight song

Eye of the Tiger faintly playing every time Paeden is on screen

We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel playing as the Daddies flee Neverwinter (they did, in fact, start the fire and also kill a bunch of people with a pyramid)

Starman by David Bowie playing over some really fucked up Doodler shit (like the ending of At the Mountains of Dadness)

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) HAS to play some time in season 1 right? It’s like the ultimate dad energy song and it fits perfectly for their objective

(Something really traumatizing happens)(hard cut to the dads in the Odyssey, sitting silently and looking traumatized as The Pina Colada Song plays for comedic effect)

Pls add to this in the tags if you want!!

Part Two here

#rambles #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndaddies #dndads s1 #dndads odyssey #dndads season 1 #dndads s2 #dndads season 2 #dndads quest #music hcs

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scoops-aboy86 · 2 months

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I Want To (Secret Admirer pt 8)

Finally got to the "drunken confessions" part of day 6's prompt!

wc: 4103 / rated: T / set after season 3 / also on ao3

Eddie’s van has always been a piece of shit, but she’s his piece of shit. Even when she breaks down halfway between the Hideout and Gareth’s house, necessitating a rescue from Gareth’s mom in her station wagon so they can get all of their equipment out before the tow truck arrives. Even when it means he has to really lean hard into dealing so he can come up with the money to pay for repairs.

Even when it cuts into his writing-to-and-recording-things-for-Steve time. But he had managed to get the tape of Steve’s favorite songs recorded and sent off, finally—no easy feat, since he’d had to learn most of the songs from scratch for this tape. Could’ve done without the Tears for Fears and Wham!, and he’d listened to way too much pop radio in order to get decent recordings to study… but he’d been pleasantly surprised by the request for Queen. He already owned some of their albums.

Didn’t peg you for a Queen fan, sweetheart, but if anything it makes me even more smitten with you. Quick question though… Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees? Is that a nostalgia thing or is there a story there?

Anyway, while poor ol’ Shelob is sitting in the lot behind Thatcher Tires, the guys have helped by keeping their ears to the ground about parties for him to hit up. Jeff is even coming with him to this one, not to help directly but enough of a known associate that he’ll act as a passive form of advertisement, letting interested partygoers know that Eddie has set up shop in the walk-in pantry just off the kitchen.

And it’s working. He’s basically sold out when someone comes over while he’s got his head down, counting his take so far, and asks, “Hey man, do you still have any weed left?”

Eddie freezes—just for a second. He hasn’t had much direct contact with Steve over the years because it was always Tommy who did the buying, back when the Harrington house was party central. But he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

He looks up, determined not to fall into those warm hazel eyes, biting the insides of his cheeks hard in an effort to will away the flush that wants to rise in his face.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie lies. He has some he’d squirreled away for himself, but whatever. Steve can have it. Can have everything.

Don’t think about the letter he’d written back to Steve, answering in detail what all two guys can do together. That way madness lies. The kind of madness where he offers Steve something else by way of just dropping to his knees right here in Melissa Sarby’s kitchen pantry.

Steve grins—he grins at him! And pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Eddie has never been more jealous of a folded rectangle of leather in his life. “Great, how much?”

Eddie tells him the amount and names his price, steeply discounted compared to how much he’s charged everyone else tonight. He can’t get over how good Steve looks, for all that he’s moving a little stiffly, subtly babying his healing ribs beneath a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He’s also wearing, Eddie realizes, fucking makeup to disguise the fading black eye. It’s good work, probably Robin’s. (Jealous again, even though he believes Steve about the platonic thing. It’s just, why stop at envying a wallet, right?) And the shorts he’s wearing… Those cannot be the grandpa shorts he’d written about, hugging his ass in all the right places. Meanwhile, Eddie’s jeans are more hole than denim and his Iron Maiden shirt is the one with the bleach stain and the sides cut down to practically his waistband because it was hot as shit today. It’s still warm, even after dark.

But wait. Wait.

Did Steve, still recuperating from his injuries, get dressed and made up just to try and track down an opportunity to switch from painkillers to sweet Mary Jane? Or because, like he’d mentioned that one time, he associates the smell with his secret admirer and is seeking it out as a self-soothing thing? Or did he… Does he know? Did he come to this for Eddie, somehow?

Whatever Steve’s reason for being here, it makes Eddie sweat, but he’s also grateful just to, like, bask. He’s seized by a sudden urge to come clean, to look Steve in the eye and reveal himself as the author of those letters, call him sweetheart or baby or big boy to his face—

“Maybe I’ll see you around the party,” Steve says casually. And maybe Eddie is crazy, or hopeful, or way too in love with the unattainable, but he could swear he hears the last word lifting a little, almost like a question.

Eddie nods his head, says, “Sure.”

And well. Damn. Does Steve know? Is that why he’s kinda sorta asking if Eddie is going to stick around? Or is this just Steve being friendly, because he’s a good dude now?

Either way, even though Eddie’s stock is basically cleared out, now he wants to stay. Which is not to say that he isn’t vibrating out of his shoes with nerves. After Steve exits the pantry, Eddie slips out and helps himself to a couple shots of whatever’s closest on his way through the kitchen—because it’s not like he can smoke his anxiety away anymore, Jesus H. Christ.

But Steve called him brave, and goddammit if this isn’t an opportunity to seize the day, stare down the barrel of a gun, pee into the wind. He can be brave, right? If he can’t, he might never find out if anything is ever going to happen for real, if they could ever be something, and then the regret will eat away at him for the rest of his cowardly life.

“Hey man,” Jeff calls when he sees Eddie, threading through the sticky crowd to meet him. “Ready to go?”

Which is code for: it’s hot and sticky in here and the music sucks, let’s leave. And while all of that is definitely true…

“I think I’m going to stick around a bit,” Eddie says, and holds up his metal lunchbox, waggling it a little. He just hopes his voice isn’t doing anything noticeably weird, either from nerves or the recently downed mystery booze. (He hadn’t taken the time to look at the bottle properly. Definitely hadn’t bothered to taste it.) “If you’re heading out, though, you mind looking after the Shelob Get Well fund for me?”

Jeff shrugs and takes it. “Okay man. Better you than me.”

He’s a good friend. Eddie appreciates him for not asking questions, though that might just be tabled for later. And sure, Jeff was also his ride home, but whatever. He can get home on his own power even without wheels. That’s what legs are for.

Eddie spends the next hour or two cycling between getting his nerve up to approach Steve then abruptly losing it and revisiting the kitchen for more liquid fortification. Every time he spots Steve in the crowd again, he isn’t doing anything in particular—hanging back against the wall and people watching, or drifting by the party snacks, or occasionally chatting with some of the incoming seniors that he must know from the sports teams he’d been on last year. It doesn’t seem like Steve is in any rush to leave, though, so there’s still time for Eddie to prove to himself that yes, he can be brave.

But after seeing one of the cheerleaders latch onto Steve’s arm, Eddie does another u-turn. The millionth fucking one, probably. This time after getting a refill, he decides to investigate the music situation, see if there are any non-shit options, not even going to fuck with it, probably… It’s very unlikely that he’d intentionally dump his current cup of punch on the tape player just to protect his unhappy ears, cross his heart and swear to Van Halen.

But no, instead: betrayal. Because his stupid legs have carried him too far from the edges of the room, too close to the dancing, fucked up masses in the middle of the living-room-slash-dance-floor, and he gets sucked in. Holding his cup up high over people’s heads—because he’d rather dump punch that somehow tastes stronger than straight liquor on their heads than splash it on their chests, apparently. Eddie tries to muscle through, resigning himself to a wobbly straight-shot across the room instead, but it’s only a matter of time until someone hip-checks him into some poor bastard.

When it does happen, whoever it is at least has the coordination to catch his drink before it spills. Eddie swallows hard at the sensation of a big hand wrapped around his hand on the cup, and brings his gaze around to meet warm hazel eyes.

“Woah there,” says Steve fucking Harrington, looking a little worse for wear from sweating through his foundation. Or maybe Eddie is just way too close for his own safety and knows what to look for.

“Talkin’ to me like I’m a horse?” Eddie blusters, trying to sway back before he gets caught in Steve’s gravity like he wants to. “Bold.”

Maybe it’s the whole room that’s swaying. Maybe he overdid it a bit. Shit, why had he stayed at this terrible party again? Steve, and free booze, but, like… now Steve is here.

Looking at him. Evaluating. And, after a second, gently guiding him back out of the throng. “Maybe,” Steve replies near his ear while they move. “I’m going to lead you to water and try to make you drink, so I guess we’ll see.”

They make it to the bathroom just as Eddie’s churning stomach decides to make a run for it in earnest. He ends up bent over the sink, sparing maybe a tiny fraction of a thought towards the fact that at least what’s coming up is mostly liquid, shouldn’t clog anything—the rest of his half-offline brain power is going towards not reacting to Steve holding his hair back for him. He can feel fingertips on his scalp, and they might as well be the only things keeping him upright.

Goddamn traitor legs.

The next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting on the closed toilet lid and Steve is pressing the cup back into his hand, rinsed out and full of water now. He raises it to gulp, some of the liquid sloshing out the sides to run down his neck, feels good…

“Hey, slow down man,” Steve says, taking the cup back and leaving Eddie to gasp at the reintroduction of air. “You’re gonna hurl again if you drink too fast.”

“S’nothin’ left,” he mumbles. Steve is so close… He told Steve that he’s a guy, didn’t he? So it’d be okay if… Oh, but he hadn’t told Steve that he’s him, Eddie. So maybe it wouldn’t be okay. Maybe if he kissed Steve, Steve would think he cheated on his secret admirer, like Lois Lane cheating on Superman with Clark Kent. The idea makes Eddie start to giggle.

Steve smiles back at him. “What? You figured out you’re not a horse ‘cause I could make you drink?”

That makes him snort after a moment, because it’s such a dumb joke but also it took him so long to get it. Eddie might have to kiss him anyway.

He should rinse his mouth first.

“Nooo,” he drawls, rising up and putting a hand on one of Steve’s several shoulders to steady himself. “I just gotta.” That’s it, right? Yeah, that’s a complete enough sentence. Onward.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks. He trails after Eddie’s beeline for the sink, grabbing for Eddie’s curls again when he dips to stick his mouth under the faucet. “Hey, don’t drown yourself, man!”

“I’m rinsing,” Eddie retorts, but it gets lost in the stream of water. He swirls and spits a few times, then straightens up and emphasizes again, “Rinsing.” And then he leans into the other man’s touch, because he can’t help himself. Steve is so close and, holy shit. Actually touching him, which has never happened before tonight, and he’s only ever caught whiffs of Steve’s cologne from a distance but it is intoxicating.

Or… maybe he’s just way drunker than he meant to get. Oops.

Oh well.

“How’s my breath now, baby?” he asks shamelessly, dipping closer. Lets his voice drop low and rumbling, and could swear he sees some heat rise to Steve’s less-makeuped cheek.

“Could definitely be worse,” Steve replies diplomatically. He puts a hand on Eddie’s hip though, like he’s afraid he might fall over without it, and that makes Eddie feel less inclined to pout—because god, those hands. They’re so big, he wants to roll around in them. “Did you drive here?”

“Hm?” Eddie flutters his eyes back open, not totally sure when he’d closed them. He’d been thinking about Steve’s hands. Absently starting to compose a letter about what he’d like to feel them do in his head, out of habit. “No… Had a ride here, was gonna walk home.”

Steve hesitates, then offers, “I could give you a ride, if you can give me directions.”

“A trade,” Eddie murmurs. “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.” As if he didn’t have it already, permanently. With a vague after you gesture, Eddie nudges Steve with his hip in the direction of the door. “To your noble steed, then! For the last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world has retreated to her lair in Cirith Munson till such time as she can be healed.”

“I have no idea what that means, dude,” Steve says. But he’s got a little grin on his face like he’s not put off by the blatant nerdery, and the hand still on Eddie’s hip guides him along with him with minimal fuss.

“Sssssecretsss,” Eddie hisses back with a lopsided smirk, because he’s a little freak and Steve might as well see that up close.

Tomorrow he’ll be mortified, but that’s Tomorrow Eddie’s problem. Right now is Drunk Eddie’s time.

He sinks gratefully into a comfy passenger seat in Steve’s beemer, no weird lumps or stray pokey springs like in his van or any of his friends’ (parents’) cars. Blinks slowly up at Steve while the man buckles him in place, head lolling a little to catch sight of the two moles on his neck, just beneath his jaw, that look like a vampire bite. Licks his lips and rests his eyes for a moment while the world spins lazily around him, then opens them again when the car starts and the radio comes on.

“Boooo,” he heckles once processed that it’s one of those pop stations he’d been listening way too much lately. Which he’d done for Steve, and this is Steve’s car, but he’d also been suffering through this crap at full volume for days to learn to play it, so it’s not like he’s being unreasonable. “Change stations, Stevie, I’m not—I can’t take it anymore. I’ll puke the blood that’s leaking down from my ears, you don’t want that in your fancy car.”

“Don’t joke about that, man,” Steve replies, but reaches over willingly enough to turn the volume down to almost nothing. “So, where to?”

Eddie mutters directions and promises to flap his hand in the right direction whenever they get to intersections, since he’s sure Steve has never been to the Forest Hills trailer park before. But when he points out turns, it always seems like Steve is already taking them. He turns in the passenger seat to squint at him, the turn signal clicking maddeningly against his eardrums every single time Steve puts it on.

“How come you know where I live?”

“I don’t?” Steve glances at him, then back at the road. “I’ve lived in Hawkins my whole life. It’s not exactly big, I know where the trailer park is.”

Eddie stares at him for another minute. He watches the street lights shine on Steve’s face, casting shadows, making him look ethereal at times and unknowable in others, sometimes both. And fuck, he wants.

But it’s Steve Harrington. They’re in Steve Harrington’s fancy car, barreling towards the moment when Eddie clambers out and says goodnight—maybe not in that order, he doesn’t know yet, but it’s going to happen either way. How many girls has Steve dropped off in this car at the end of a date?

It doesn’t matter, because they weren’t on a date. Steve had held his hair back while he threw up and is giving him a ride home because he’s a nice guy. Steve… doesn’t know they’ve been exchanging love letters all summer.

“I need something to listen to,” Eddie blurts out, leaning forward to turn the volume back up and switching over to whatever tape is in. “Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t—”

There’s a click and a whir, and the tape starts up in the middle of an acoustic cover of Queen’s ‘I Want To Break Free.’

Of Eddie’s acoustic cover, and the sound of his own humming that makes him drunkenly wonder, Is that really what I sound like?

Steve has been listening to the most recent tape he sent him in the car. Eddie can feel his eyes going the size of dinner plates—there hasn’t even been time to get a letter back about it, he sent it that recently. His chest fills up with fizz and nerves because maybe Steve was listening to it on the way to the party, and if so what does that mean?

He doesn’t move a muscle, barely even breathes, and Steve seems similarly quiet in the driver’s seat next to him. And suddenly (because Steve’s right, Hawkins isn’t a big place, it never takes all that long to get from point A to point B) they’re pulling into the trailer park and Eddie is gesturing stiffly to which trailer is his.

The car pulls to a stop and Eddie… doesn’t move. His tape is still playing, that one about being head over heels now.

I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

… Fuck it. That love is still caught in his heart, pumping the sweetness of it through his arteries and veins with every beat, and he’s dizzy with booze and wanting.

Eddie turns towards Steve, fumbling to unbuckle his seat belt as an afterthought, half climbing over the middle divider to get even a fraction of how close he wants to be. Hears Steve’s soft intake of breath while he leans in, reaching to cradle the back of his head instead of his left cheek in case that might hurt (because he may be drunk off his ass but he remembers, okay, doesn’t want to hurt his sweetheart) and kisses him.

Soft at first, the barest hint of trying to be chaste, but one taste could never be enough. The rest of the world is white fucking noise as Eddie licks his way inside Steve’s easily parting lips, seals them together, steals the breath right out of his lungs with the perfect way they slot together. He’s shaking with it, drunk and stupid and floating and Steve’s hands are in his hair again for a much, much better reason this time, kissing and being kissed back.

“Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

Steve’s heart jumps into his throat, realizing what Eddie is about to do. “Oh, uh, I don’t—”

For as drunk as he is, Eddie is fast. Too fast for Steve to come up with some excuse for stopping him, and then the evidence of the tape he’d used to psyche himself up for the party floods the car, because… Well, the latest letter was still filling his head, all the ways Eddie had promised he could be good with his hands, and the soothing sounds of guitar and Eddie’s voice kept him at pleasantly equal levels of calm and stirred up.

He expects Eddie, loose tongued as he is, to say something. Take the opportunity to reveal himself finally and offer some lighthearted quip about their different tastes in music again. Steve, heart still in his throat, wants that, because he’s never been one for hesitating to rip off the band-aid.

This thing between them, the softness and hope of it, is the only thing that’s kept Steve afloat since he’d had to admit to his parents that he’d lost his car keys. He’d written to Secret Admirer—to Eddie—about it, of course, but he might have… minimized a bit. Mentioned them calling him irresponsible, and some of the emotional hoops they’d made him jump through before agreeing to arrange for replacements, but he’d left some things unsaid.

Like, how he knows how to get a copy of a key made but that requires, you know, something to copy! His parents had kept all the spares when they gave him the car, even though it’s his name on the title—a detail which makes him seem like a spoiled brat if he complains, but he’s always felt like that was calculated. And how he had no idea how to get a new car key made from scratch, and still doesn’t because they hadn’t explained it, just done it.

Or the way he’d been so apathetic for days after that series of phone calls that Robin had offered part of her savings to help him get his own place. “A loan,” she’d explained. “Anything to get you out from under those people’s thumbs, Steve, they’re horrible human beings. They didn’t call back about you having a concussion but they called immediately after getting your message about some stupid keys? That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard about, way worse than a giant spider monster made of melted people!”

Steve just. He needs a win right now. He needs some sort of reassurance that Robin isn’t a one-off good thing in his life. If he and Eddie could just get on the same page and stop pretending that they didn’t both want to kiss each other…

Because he’s been pretending all night, ever since the moment he’d seen Eddie in person for the first time since only half-noticing him in school. Watched him for a while while there were still people crowded around, knowing that it might mean there’d be nothing left to buy by the time he approached and then maybe they’d end up talking. Hadn’t happened, sadly, so he’d stuck around—and damn, he’s glad he did. It seemed like every time he’d caught a glimpse of the man after that he had a new drink in hand, and by the time he herded Eddie into the bathroom his eyes were so unfocused that Steve wasn’t sure he even recognized him until “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.”

He’d wanted to say that the feeling was mutual, but hadn’t quite had the nerve.

But now Steve is driving in a cold sweat because they’re listening to Eddie’s tape and Eddie himself is stock-still to his right.

And look, all he’s hoping for at this point is to get Eddie home safely, maybe strike up a conversation as he’s helping the guy inside or whatever Eddie needs, whatever he can get away with. Being able to touch him at the party had given him goosebumps despite the summer heat in general and the thick, humid air inside the house. Selfishly, he wants more, but knows he needs to content himself with breadcrumbs until they make it to the real stuff, not wanting to give away how clingy he can be (if he hasn’t already in his letters). So when he pulls to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, he’s glad when Eddie doesn’t leap up and bolt immediately.

The kiss catches Steve off guard. It’s so gentle and tentative at first, for all that Eddie just about threw himself across the car to initiate it. Just as quickly, it turns hungry, and it’s that hunger that has Steve readily opening, accepting, wanting right back. Eddie kisses him like he’s trying to leave a mark, and he does. A fierce and possessive blaze that’s totally separate from the burn of lingering alcohol, one that doesn’t start to hurt until it ends.

Tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #jeff (stranger things)#eddie munson's van

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zg0nuwa · 6 months

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Hello... If I can make a request, can I ask for platonic Adam relationship with a gn!reader? Reader, that has personality and traits of a Bennet from Genshin Impact(Adventurous, bubbly, always positive and chatty. But "blessed" with the worst luck ever known to humanity. Like, they like to go on adventures and explore different things, but they may end up getting lost, falling from a cliff, almost drowning, etc. Treasure hunt? Oh, all that they found in chests are radishes, carrots, or useless trash. Something's falling? Probably gonna land on them. Tgey got in a fight? Well, better call an ambulance right away, they may stab themselves with their own weapon. Even cooking may end up by setting the kitchen on fire. But despite all of that, they're still stayin' positive and smiley, believin' that they'll definetely get luckythe next day). Thank you🌺

not-so-lucky charm ; adam

so like i died once again but hey, that’s what they have hell for am i right fellas?

cw ; adam, one mention of suicide, adam is kinda mean

adam will be making fun of you most of the time, they key to calm his ass down is just ignoring his comments. he strives for attention and if you just shrug him off or laugh with him a little bit he will eventually cut down on rude remarks and teasing comments.

at first he might’ve been a little skeptical of your stories because they just sound so outlandish and sometimes unimaginable but once he experienced your luck with front row tickets he starts to believe you. genuinely confused on how you are still “alive”.

at some point he starts to get afraid because what if your bad luck infects him too. it doesn’t, but the idea of chasing him around after convincing him that it is in fact contagious just makes me giggle (he screams like a little girl)

not really sure how you can still be so optimistic about your situation, once told you he would just kill himself if he was in your shoes.

overall he acts like a typical older brother. making fun of you, teasing and all but deep down he cares, because lets be honest, if he didn’t he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you on your own.

#hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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livingthedragonlife · 4 months

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who wants to listen to my really good playlist

explanations for why i chose the songs under the cut because i miss 8tracks. spoiler warning if you haven't read/finished the manga, some of these song choices involve stuff that happens in the ending

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? — The premise of the story

I Just Can't Wait to Be King — The premise of the dungeon, also I couldn't stop laughing when I thought about how funny it would be to put a song from The Lion King on this playlist

Eat It — Eating monsters!!! Whether you like it or not!!!!!

White & Nerdy — Laios. Who else would it be.

Black Magic Woman — Marcille, because I'm really funny

Bitch Better Have My Money — Chilchuck, because I'm even funnier

Cooking By The Book — Senshi, and this would have been the Lil Jon remix but I don't think it's on Spotify

The Mean Kitty Song (Hey Little Sparta) — Izutsumi (Izutsumi)

short kings anthem — In honor of Senshi's upskirts, but honestly it could be any of the short kings in here. I'm including Namari in that

Stayin' Alive — Falin (mostly)

Ghost — Thistle 😔

Read Between the Lines — Shuro and the fight he has with Laios

I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General — Kabru. I'm right.

The Meow Mix Commerical — This is what I imagine was happening in Izutsumi's head when they went to The Golden City

The Monster Mash — .......the dungeon rabbit scene

Poor Unfortunate Souls — The Winged Lion convincing every dungeon lord tbh

Toxic Love — The Winged Lion again, mostly just the first verse:

I see the world and all the creatures in it I suck 'em dry and spit 'em out like spinach I feel the power, it's growing by the minute And pretty soon you're gonna see me wallow in it

but if you're Nasty 👀, you can also imagine Laios' body is the "beeEEaUtiful machine"

It's Tough To Be A God — It's Tough To Be A Dungeon Lord and also the Winged Lion's tragic backstory

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #she speaks #one hour of MEMES baby

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obsessivestar · 4 days

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'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

{{-Hello yes am alive ♡. Givin' ya a smaller chapter today as a sort of warm-up but next one will be a lil' bigger. This one has more exposition tho so I hope you still enjoy ♡. This fic will either have about 25 chapters in total or maybe 30 if I can think of more to add. For now though, enjoy Chapter 11 ♡ Love ya-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fic (MINORS DNI), Reader is implied to afab and under 5'5.

Chapter Warnings: Thoughts bout last night, Chuckle Sandwhich mention! Exposition lololol\\

Word Count: 2.7k (lil baby)

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 & @callsign-scully

☆ Love ya to death! ☆

Chapter 11: Two Weeks Remaining

I wake up to the sound of my own alarm going off this time, letting out a little groan as I smack my hand over to my phone to turn the alarm off. I turn onto my back and open my eyes, using my other hand to feel the other side of the bed. All I feel are my sheets. I turn to look, furrowing my brows a little. Ted isn't there. I take a deep breath, sit up more in the bed and attempt to stretch my legs out.

"Ooh--" I breath out when my legs start shaking like crazy, specifically when I bend my knees closer to my chest. I lay them flat on the bed, blushing to myself. Christ, that's worse than the first time. I know he pushed my limits a little last night, but I didn't think my legs would still be feeling like jello after a good night's rest. I hear the sound of my doorknob turning quietly and the door slowly opens. Ted is in a comfy but old looking white hoodie and some baggy slacks, holding a whole tray of food. He looked like he was really trying to be quiet. It was cute, but he noticed me as he was stepping in.

"Awe. Fuck. I didn't make it in time.." Ted frowns playfully, closing my bedroom door behind him. "I was gonna surprise you.."

It was a relief that he didn't just leave after last night. I didn't think he would, but waking up alone got me worried for a second.

"I'm very surprised.." I smile at him, angling my pillow up so I could comfortably lean back. "I only just woke up now, my alarm went off.."

"Yeah, I was trying to beat your alarm. I couldn't turn it off again." Ted admitted with a chuckle, moving to sit next to me with the tray. There were 2 plates on it with some eggs, toast and breakfast sausage, freshly cooked. It smelled delicious.

"Did...you make us this?..." I ask him, pointing down at the plates. I couldn't stop smiling, this was so sweet of him to do.

"Okay asshole, at least pretend you believed I was capable of cooking!" Ted laughs a little, nodding at me. "Yes, I made this!"

"No, it's not--" a grin spreads along my cheeks and I start laughing as well, shaking my head and waving my hands in front of me a little. "It's not that! I'm not ragging on you, I promise!"

"Y'know how expensive sausage is now adays?" Ted jokes, playfully nudging my shoulder. "You're being spoiled, princess. Don't mock me."

"I'm not! I'm not!.." I continue to shake my head, trying to calm myself down from my laughing fit. "I'm flattered! I'm not mocking you!.."

"You should be flattered! I burnt the first batch I made, this was my second attempt!" Ted chuckles with a big smile, using his fork to pick up a piece of breakfast sausage from his plate, taking a bite with a content hum. I smile warmly at him, taking my own cutlery into my hands to start working at the cooked eggs. So, Ted's an aftercare kind of guy. Good to know, I kinda needed it.

"When I woke up and you weren't here, I...kinda thought..." I pause to take another bite of my eggs, smiling more to myself. They tasted delicious. I could tell he had sprinkled in a bit of pepper before he cooked them. I do that too.

"Again? You still think I'm gonna fuck off after...fucking, I guess?" Ted raises a brow with a slight scoff, taking a bite of some of his toast. "I'm tellin' ya babe; I told you last night. I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm stayin'."

"Babe?" I repeated with a cutsey smile, shrugging my shoulders in a bashful manner as I take a bite of my own toast. "Is that what I am now? Your babe?"

"Yeah. As long as the sex stays this good.." Ted jokes with a confident chuckle. He reaches over to my face, carefully wiping some crumbs off my cheek. "I mean, we already gave each other pet names. That's what people do when they're together, right?"

"Do they?" I tilt my head at him, letting him wipe my cheek. "Is that what we are?"

"Hm?"

"Together?"

"Yeah. Aren't we?"

"Are you making that decision now?"

"I'm not makin' a decision, I'm stating what I feel is out there."

"'What you feel is out there'." I repeated to Ted.

"Yeah." He nods simply. "It's been out there, right?"

"So you feel like...we're together."

"Yeah. Aren't we?"

"I mean, I'd...like to think we are. Do you want to be together?"

"Yeah. I figured we were."

"When did you 'figure we were' together?"

"I don't know, when I stuck my dick in you?? We didn't exactly--"

I completely cut Ted off by erupting into laughter, flinging my head back in shock and awe, having to put my cutlery down as I laugh out. My laughing causes Ted to start laughing, shaking his head and running his fingers through his tall hair. "We didn't exactly ask each other out! We-We got to business! Right? We got down and dirty! Am I wrong? I'm right! I know i'm right!" Ted chuckles out, holding his arms out with a slight shrug. I mean, he had a point. We've told people like Tanner and the others that we're a thing, but we haven't talked about it one on one. I assumed he didn't want to.

"Okay, yeah, well, I figured you wanted to, I don't know, be casual?.." I shrugged, picking at my eggs on my plate.

"With you? No, I want in. I don't do casual." Ted admitted nonchalantly, finishing up one of his pieces of toast. "You're mine for sure."

There was something very validating about hearing him say that. It feels like it's really out there now, we're together. A relationship, I suppose. About damn time.

"Oh, this is perfect, actually." Ted spoke up again with a more upbeat tone, setting his food down for a moment so he could give me his full attention. "After work tonight I'm recording an episode of the podcast I was tellin' you about. You wanna be in it? Meet the boys?"

"Chuckle Sandwhich, right?..." I repeat with a warm smile, shifting my hands into my lap a little. "You want me in an episode?.."

"Sure. You already know most of my other friends. You should meet Schlatt and Tucker." Ted nodded a little at me, his smile turning into a smirk. "Okay, I should clarify though, I'll let them know we're together, but I'm not sure I wanna announce anything about us just yet, is that ok?"

Honestly, I thought I'd be more disappointed to hear that, but I was relatively okay with it. My fandom knew about this project, but they didn't know Ted was going to be involved in it at all, much less be my love interest. Dropping all of this now, especially on a podcast, would be...an odd way to do it. I should probably start taking videos on set to kind of...slow start this. At least for now, his closest friends will know, just like mine.

"Yeah, that's fine." I give Ted a reassuring smile. "Honestly, I feel like they'd find a way to ruin the reveal.."

"Oh I'm already expecting Schlatt to make comments during the episode itself, don't you worry. It's gonna spark rumors no matter what we do." Ted admitted with a shrug. "I just...wanna put a bit more time between this before I make anything public. It'd be weird if I just went 'yeah I met her a week ago, get the fancams ready'."

"I understand. I like the idea, actually.." I giggle a little, playfully shaking my head at him. "They'll make fancams anyways, It can be, like...a little mystery."

"Wow, already thinking about how we can turn this into content, eh?" Ted grins at me with a raised brow, leaning a little closer to me. "Ooh, you're so fucking annoying, it's gonna be hard not to flirt with you.."

"Mmm.." I let out a pleased hum and lean forward to kiss Ted intimately, a little sigh leaving him in the kiss. I was actually looking forward to seeing if any of our fans would say anything. Usually shipping rumors can be annoying, but it's fun when they're right and you're trying to keep it a secret, at least to me. I'll be keeping an eye on who starts guessing if anything's going on. I don't think I'll leave any specific hints or anything, I'll treat Ted as I usually do in front of my own friends.

Ted and I eventually finished our breakfast in bed, talking more about his friends on his podcast and what to expect. I finished my plate first, so I got up to get dress as Ted explained how everything worked. I had the closet door held out so he didn't necessarily watch me change, as much as he wanted to, but I had no issues changing in the same room as him. He's seen me naked twice now. It's whatever.

"You think anyone's gonna ship us right off the bat?" Ted asks as he sets our empty plates on my dresser.

"Honestly, I was thinking about that earlier." I admit with a bashful smile. "I mean, I don't intend to flirt with you or anything, but even Joe saw we had chemistry after one trip to Dunkin'. One trip."

"Yeah, I guess it's bound to happen.." Ted shrugged a little with a smirk. "Schlatt's gonna--ugh, man, he's gonna be the fuckin' worst for it.."

"Why're you so worried about him specifically?" I ask, peeking my head out from behind the closet door with a chuckle.

"Because he's an asshole." Ted joked with a little laugh. "He's gonna make comments either at you or with you."

"With me?"

"Yeah, they've been pickin' on me these last few weeks. If you fuckin' join in, I'll have all 3 of yeah's on my ass. Fuck, if they ship you with Schlatt instead? I'll lose it."

"They're NOT gonna ship me with Schlatt! They ship you two too much!" I laugh out, shaking my head. "But y'know what? Bullying you for an entire hour does sound pretty appealing."

"Maybe, if you're in a hurry to have a repeat of last night."

I smile to myself at his comment, briefly recalling how rough he was. My legs were literally quaking because of him, both last night and this morning. No man has ever made them do that, I didn't even know it could happen. I thought that was a porn thing. "Maybe I am.." I admit after a long pause, stepping away from the closet door now that I was fully clothed. Ted chuckles lowly at me, crossing his arms.

"I'll keep that in mind.."

Ted and I leave my room together, carrying our empty plates as we head downstairs to clock in for the day. Some members of the film crew notice that we came downstairs together, but at this point I couldn't care less what they're thinking. It's not like they'll leak anything, I don't even think any of them know we're YouTubers. We met up with Joe, Tanner and Dan at the kitchen table once more, both of us pulling up a chair, side by side of course. Tanner is fiddling with an old looking Canon model camera. On the table, there were 2 different sized lens that could fit the camera. Tanner looked extremely focused on it, furrowing his brows a little.

"What's he doing?" I ask Joe, leaning back a bit against my seat.

"Fiddling with the camera, I don't know. I know art, not cameras." Joe shrugged a little, looking at Tanner as he messed with the buttons on his camera.

"He's fixing the settings. Today's photoshoot day." Dan answered, picking up one of the long lens'. "It's an EOS R100."

"...what?" I raise a brow, visibly confused.

"It's the type of camera." Ted clarified for me, looking at me with a smirk before turning to Tanner. "Why you messin' with that one, bud?"

"Photoshoot day." Tanner answered simply, glancing up from the camera briefly.

"Oh. I-I thought that was a joke.." Ted held back a chuckle, crossing his arms in front of him. "Why are we having a photoshoot?"

"For the film. Opening night." Tanner answered, setting the camera down after a pause so he could give us a clearer explanation on what we'd be doing today. "Every short film is getting, like, a made up opening night. I have to make posters, teaser images, DVD covers, all that. Joe's helping me with the fonts and CD designs. I thought it'd be cool to use the camera I started the program with for some of the first shoots."

"Oh shit! That's awesome, dude!" I smile brightly at Tanner, sitting forward a bit more in my chair. "So we're gonna have a premiere night? Will there be a red carpet? Should I buy a new dress? Ooh, or maybe I'll wear a suit this time..."

"I'm gonna wear the red suit that didn't fit him.." Joe spoke as well, pointing at Ted. "I'm claiming that."

"I still have no idea how you ordered a suit that's an entirely different size.." Ted pointed back at Joe, shaking his head. "I think you did that on fucking purpose."

"I didn't do it on purpose! I was--it--ok." Joe struggled to get his point out, laughing a little. "I-I was high, I'll give you that."

"You were high ordering the suits?" Dan asked, raising his brows up with a surprised smile.

"I can do math faster when I'm high. I had to add all the prices up for him." Joe chuckles with a little half smile, shrugging his shoulders. All of this was pretty exciting to think about. It was nice to know we'd all get to see the film together at the end of it all, I certainly hope Tanner gets a good final grade for this. We've all put so much into it for him, especially Ted and I, I'd like to think.

"Are you, like, renting out a theater or something?" Ted asked, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on his lap. "Can you afford that?"

"Ok, well, it's all going through the college, so it's not gonna be a big thing.." Tanner admitted with a little chuckle, holding his hands out somewhat. "I think the only thing we'll have to personally pay for is your tickets."

"Okay, but will there be a red carpet?" I ask again, resting both of my hands on the table.

"I will--" Tanner pauses to laugh a little. "I will make sure there is a red carpet."

"YES!" I raise my arms up with an excited laugh, hearing everyone begin to laugh and talk over each other about the premiere. I've never walked a red carpet before, I'm not really that famous just yet. Even with this being a small college thing, the more we talked about it, the more excited I became. As we all got up to get to work, we discussed more about the premiere. It'd be taking place In Sacramento, where Tanner lived. I'd probably be sticking around with him for the premiere before I'd be going home to Washington. It'll be bittersweet to have to split up, but we're not all super far from each other. Ted lives right here in L.A., I'm in Washington, Tanner's in Sacremento until he's done school, then he's moving back up to Vancouver where Joe and Dan actually live.

Now that I think about it, after this is all over, Ted will be the furthest away...

No, I don't want to think about that now. The premiere won't be happening for another month. I'll have plenty of time with Ted until then. I don't want to think too far ahead, I'll just make myself upset. I have another 2 weeks with him, then we'll have a whole premiere to goto together. We can figure it out from there.

I want these next few weeks to be stress free. I want to enjoy this time with some of my best friends, especially with Ted.

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) ||

#ted nivison #chuckle sandwhich #jschlatt #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison x you #ted nivison x yn

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theghostbunnie · 1 year

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Just to preference alot of this is my interpretations/HCs/OC and very little of it is cannonical character analysis:

So her name is Penelope Esther Goldman but she just goes by her middle name Esther, as a funny little nod to know SK and Neil are both named Neil, she shares a name with Mrs Priss and I think I had them go to the same collage or something, might have to do the math on their ages again to see if that lines up

(I HC Carl's last name is Pasternak and Neil's is both, hyphenated.)

She's a incredibly intelligent scientist with extensive knowledge in biology, robotics, chemistry, ect ect. Esther doesn't really emote or exspress her emotions in her voice or face much at all, or well.

Carl when they first met was smitten, he was a groovy goofy goober and still is. He'd do that walrus thing with breadsticks in public at restaurants. He'd skate around with a fanny pack dancing to bee gees. Convince her to go to parties and she'd just be pleasantly content to stand there as he's like "that's fine I can dance enough for the both of us/pos" She had to pass a first aid course and he guided her arms and taught her you can keep the proper rhythm by singing Stayin Alive. He was just really persistent and really sweet and he grew on her okay 😭

Esther didn't really have a respect for philosophy because she didn't really grasp it's value or importance. As she grew to respect him more that sortaa changed.

They eventually got married and really kick-started both of their careers along the way.

(cw miscarriage implications for this next part) Neil's a rainbow baby that happened after several pregnancy losses. It may have been one of the things to strain their marriage but what really ended up doing it in was just the simple fact of life people change and grow apart and can fall out of love so now they can't really interact with each other for long. Their differences and flaws now clash and they butt heads instead of being complimentary.

I'm a firm believer the episode where each camper takes care of an egg they were reflecting their own parents. Carl is embarrassing but he's almost the exact opposite of a smotherer that Neil was showcased to be. His overall parenting style is like he's way more concerned about being Neil's friend than anything.

Esther is the one he's mirroring, here. She treats him like he's fragile almost. She gives him specific everything, down to his bedsheet thread count, knows how to cater to his living needs inside and out. Esther struggles to connect with anyone emotionally, though so her affection in the verbal department isn't as maintained. This never really bothers Neil, it doesn't register as "smothering" to him how much she shelters or caters to him. Because this isn't a kid interested in joining sports he could get hurt in and likes everything in a specific way anyways.

She's more aware socially than Carl is and knows how to not embarrass him in general.

Esther is Neil's biggest role model he wants to be just like her and is mad when he isn't, when he fails to be. He's upset even physically the only thing they share are the eyes. ((Regularly you can't even see Esther's I couldn't help myself in the art above from making them visible/forgot on the cc one but it's supposed to be a bit on "eyes are a window to the soul" thing and she's just that closed off and unreadable. Really only has a soft spot for Neil))

His mother is incredibly intelligent, and just seems so collected to him all the time.. and importantly not over emotional like he can be (his temper specifically.) and ESPECIALLY how emotional his dad can be.

I just love!! Character parallels!!!! How Carl is this emotional goofy person who joked around and danced and played music everywhere and Esther got regarded as "cold" and stiff and Neil is just both of them bc he's so smart but he's also silly. Like he plays video games and gets passionate over little things and allthat and it embarrasses him secretly sometimes, he wishes he could chill out and be like his mother. But the parts of him that reflect his father have always been the parts Esther always loved the most and found endearing. He doesn't know that though.

Neil to an extent even secretly believes if he didn't have his big brain and academic achievements him and his mother wouldn't have this close relationship because this is their shared quality. This is what makes her proud. He's so scared to lose that or disappoint her.

At the same time it doesn't stop him from pinning his parents against each other a bit from time to time. As he knows Esther's go-to move is to spoil him to win.

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treasureplanetsheep · 14 days

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Beetlejuice Beetlejuice thoughts (spoiler alert!):

pretty solid sequel

the last half/third was fantastic (basically when things really started to go bonkers/it turned into a rescue mission)

the soundtrack was great

everyone seemed to be having fun (especially Willem Dafoe)

found wynona ryder to be a little...stiff? idk my mom wasn't really impressed with her either. could be bc of how different lydia was compared to the first film? idk i'll talk a little more about that at the end of this post

delores was an interesting concept of a character (more on that later)

Bob was MVP of the movie

was surprised at how prominent the presence of Charles was in the movie due to all the real life ick involving the original actor. i think they cleverly worked around his character at least i guess.

i recognize the priest from that one show Turn AMC solely from the fact that gifsets of him (usually shipping posts) would regularly show up on my dash thanks to some tumblr mutuals lololol

personally could have done without the beetlebaby (twice!) but fits with the beetlejuice zaniness i suppose

Beetlejuice has kept his part of the bargain TWICE now and Lydia keeps managing to worm her way out of her end of the deal tsk tsk lol

So now for more detailed thoughts:

Lydia:

so i never pictured her to turn out like...this? anxious, getting walked over by her creepy smarmy boyfriend. she lost her spine. :( idk how i feel about bc she's in such a vastly different headspace than when we last saw her.

Delores and Wolf Jackson:

these two kind of go hand in hand in a way? So I LIKED the concept of her character (soul-sucking (ex)wife lol get it?)...but we get so little of her???? she's such a flat character! She could be completely removed from the movie and nothing would change (except Bob would be alive 😭)! You build towards some sort of confrontation with her and Beetlejuice and then nothing happens! she finally finds him, is immediately shoved at rory and then eaten by a sandsnake!!!! curious about her total screentime bc i'm pretty sure nearly half of it is just the stayin' alive stapler gun montage)

Wolf Jackson:

you could tell Willem Dafoe was having fun lol. i really liked him ngl BUT the character schtick of him getting a little too lost in acting out bits almost made it feel like he was in a whole separate movie at times if that makes sense? like it felt like he was just doing his own thing the whole time. in his own world.

personally i think the movie should have only included one of the characters. either delores or Wolf and his police/detective tomfoolery. Then *that* character's screentime could have been dedicated to the other character.

and once again i'll reiterate that the last chunk (busting into the underworld and beyond) of the movie was just so fun. Definitely the best part.

nitpicking:

how i would have worked the beginning:

personally i wish we could have gotten the paranormal show gig stuff with lydia, had her receive a phone call and then just cut to everyone arriving at the house with the "who or what or where are they now" stuff worked in after the fact instead of going to the school and the art exhibition. *Nearly* starting off at the house would have helped move things along a little more in the beginning (i thought it dragged just a tad).

#beetlejuice beetlejuice #beetlejuice 2 #spoilers #beetlejuice spoilers #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #movie spoilers #beetlejuice

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admrlthundrbolt · 4 months

Text

Stayin' Alive (Ladybug x Chubby Reader

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This wasn't supposed to happen. Agents weren't meant to fall for their competition. Yet there you were, so sweet and soft. Guess that was his luck though. What was a ladybug to do when you get assigned to work together.

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Hi guys, I'm back at it again. It's been a while since my last Bulket Train story. But Ladybug wouldn't get out of my head. So here is a story about him being enamored with the reader. I really think his would be the type to fall head over heels for someone. Hope you enjoy.

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He stared down at the paper in disbelief. Heart racing, he looked at Maria with wide eyes. “You can't do this to me.”

She gave him a blank expression. “Do what to you? It's a simple job.” She glanced back at the debrief to see if there was something she missed.

Shaking his head, he rubbed a hand across his face. “No, you can't assign me with her.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not, you have a past I don't know about? Or are you a sexist and hid it all these years.”

He threw his hands up at the accusation. Only to stop when he noticed the smirk on her face. “Ha ha.” His voice hollow as he calmed down. “No, I just don't want to cause a problem for her.” As the words left his mouth he could feel heat flood his face. It was one thing for his bad luck to effect him. But if there was a chance it could get you hurt, or God forbid killed. He would never forgive himself.

Ah, she had been expecting this. It was no secret the feelings he had for you. Being both of your handler, she had seen many interactions between the two of you. His fumbling seemed to skyrocket anytime he saw you. So why not kill two birds with one stone. Have her most trusted agents on the same mission. While also giving him an opportunity to spend some close quality time with you. Call her a genius or a hopeless romantic. It didn't matter as long as the outcome was the job being finished.

Frustration coursed through him, he shook his head again. “What if my luck gets her killed?” He looked at her emploringly.

Her face softened at his obvious stress. “She an accomplished hitman. I'm sure a little bit of bad luck can't take her out.” Giving him a pat on the back she smiled. “Besides, she accepted already. She seemed excited about it too.”

His eyes widen at the thought of you looking forward to working with him. OK, maybe it wasn't so bad.

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

Bouncing in place you glanced around. You were glad that you had told Ladybug to meet you at a time earlier than necessary. It wouldn't do to be late for the art gala. The target was an overly paranoid man that rarely left his thoroughly secure house. That is except for when his favorite artist had a showing. Maria had assured you that it was a bit tricky to get the pair of tickets. Though nothing she couldn't handle. You giggled a bit at the smug expression she had at the time.

A hand landing on your shoulder jolted you out of the memory. Twisting the appendage behind the offenders back, you gasped. Quickly releasing his hand, you fussed over the fellow hitman. “Oh sweetie, I didn't hurt you to badly did I?” You felt horrid for any pain you may have caused him. But you did take the moment he spent making sure a finger wasn't more crooked than usual to check him out. He cleaned up well, not to say you didn't enjoy his routine style. The laid back yet practical outfits he tended to wear suited him. The suit he was draped in now, it was a sight for sore eyes. Taking his arm with your own, you guided him towards the venue.

Going along with you, he only had a moment of a calm heart before his pulse began racing again. You were the picture of perfection. Not a hair out of place and curves shining through your evening wear. As you smiled back at him, he tried his hardest to commit the image to memory.

Stopping as you reach the entrace to the building. You turned and noticed that he was a bit rumpled from the jog. Reaching up you smoothed out his shirt collar.

His mind was reeling. It was one thing to agree to pose as a couple. But he hadn't thought of possibility that it would involve acting like a couple. As you smiled up at him, he suddenly remembered why he was late. Pulling a crumpled flower from his pocket, he held ot towards you. “I couldn't decide between a bouquet or a corsage. But while i was in the flower shop a guy came in and started yelling at the owner. Something about them having sex with his wife. Anyways this is the only thing I could grab as I ran out.” He stared at the flower until he was done rambling. When he glanced at you he was relieved to see that your grin had only grew.

Taking the flower carefully, you admired it. The thing was barely staying on it's stem and was missing quite a few petals. Honestly it was so beat up that you weren't exactly sure what type of flower it was. All the same, you brought it to your nose and enjoyed the light fragrance. Placing it on an ear, you beamed at him. “Thank you, let's head in yeah.”

Nodding, he knew that it would be a herculean effort to keep his pulse under control for the night.

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

The check in process was relatively easy. It also gave you another moment to straighten up his outfit. During which you may have appreciated the muscle he had under the crisp dress shirt. Though you didn't let yourself linger on the delicious distraction to long. It was time to get down to business. With a quick nod you both headed in different direction to locate the target.

It was a lavish setting. Trays of champagne and amuse bouche carried by attractive yet professional waitstaff. Many paintings, sculptures, and tapestries cover the event center. You strided to the section that held the works of the artist your target was obsessed with. Placing a hand against your hair you tapped the device in your ear. “I'm in position. No sign of Waterson yet.” Brushing a bit of hair behind your ear, you waited for a reply.

Wiping his hands on his shirt he tapped the ear piece. “Same here. Hey have you tried these cracker things. They are great.” His voice was muffled by the mouthful of hors d'oeuvres. He had wanted to settle his nerves. What better way than with treats. His pulse leapt at your laugh. Well that was easier said than done with you around. A thousand snacks couldn't clam down his hammering heart near you.

“I'll be sure to give them a try. Do you see the target?” Your tone was airy yet professional. It was a relief to work with someone that wasn't such a stick in the mud.

He relaxed a bit as you didn't reprimand him for slacking on the job. Searching the room, he didn't spot the target anywhere. But as his gaze wandered your way he cursed. “Carver is here.” Frowning he stared down the two-bit assassin. Though it deepened significantly as he headed in your direction. What was a creep like that doing heading over to you.

You smiled amicably as he made his way over to you. It was a good thing Ladybug had spotted him. It gave you time to prepare for the unneeded disturbance. As he swaggered closer you had to hold back a sneer. He had made it his mission to bed every female assassin he came across. Luckily for you he was nowhere near your type. No, that honor belonged to a certain luckless handsome clutz.

Without waiting a beat he already had you half pinned between himself and a sculpture. “Fancy meeting you here. It must be fate.” His cologne was overwhelming bad. Not to mention the lack of personal space he gave you.

Placing a hand on his chest, you forced him back a few inches. The satisfaction you received from the shock look he gave you at the action. Well it was well worth the effort. “You may believe that. While I know it must be that fact we've been assigned to the same target. Waterson didn't seem the type to make that many enemies."

He took a moment to gather himself. “Yeah, maybe he was. But I heard that he crossed the wrong people recently. So you know what that gets you.” Turning towards the crowd, he slipped an arm around your shoulder. Why not make the most of the evening while he was stuck search for the geezer.

It was killing him, watching that sleeze ball put his hands on you. Your body language switching as you look between the crowd and Carver gave him hope. Though your next words made his spirits soar.

“I would love to stay and chat. But I need to meet up with my partner.” Stepping away, you were shocked when a hand landed on your hip.

His smile was stretched tightly across his face. “Now come on sweetheart, don't be like that. Besides what sort of idiot would leave you all by yourself.” He dug his fingers a bit more into the plush flesh.

The fire that blazed through your veins was maddening. Placing your hand on top of his own, you smiled sweetly. Shifting two fingers around his pinky you jerked. Your giggle covered the sickening pop. Leaning towards him, you felt a jolt of exhilaration at the pain that had come over his features. “Since a simple no isn't enough for you. It seems you need a reminder that we are in the same line of work.” Another pop followed by a yelp from him was veiled once again by your laughter. A serious expression slid onto your face. “With that out of the way. I will be joining Ladybug for the rest of the evening as our target has just stepped through the door. You're welcome to try to claim the contract from us. But after your pitiful display of masculinity, I think it would be best if you didn't bother.”

As you strutted his way he could only admire your raw power. It was as if the more he experienced your being the greater his infatuation grew. He would be worried that thoughts of you would consume his very existence. If he wasn't already enamored with the notion of worshiping you. He had to stifle a gasp as you wrap an arm around his own.

“Now that our target has finally arrived. Why don't you focus a little of your luck his way.” Sliding a hand up his chest, you ran your fingertips along his stubble covered jaw. Guiding his face down, you place a slow deliberate kiss to his cheek. “Then you can take me on a proper date.”

His cheeks burned as he nodded resolutely. If he could harness his odd powers in your favor, he would. If only to get a moment longer with you pressed against him.

#bullet train #chubby reader #ladybug bullet train #chubby reader x ladybug #carver bullet train #fluff #pining #romance #flirting #idiots in love #assassin #minor injury #minor violence #threats of violence #plot to kill #hitmen

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winniethewife · 9 months

Text

You could call me babe for the weekend (William Tell X reader)

Warning: Slight Angst, Alcohol consumption, Past cheating

Words: 841

William hadn’t been back to his home town in a very long time, there was no reason to, Nobody lived there, Nobody who cared was alive these days, but He was drawn there as the Christmas season grew close that year, he figured he could at least spend a day there then move on to the city. What he didn’t expect was to find her there. His high school Sweetheart, He swore she looked even more beautiful. Maybe it was the alcohol, Maybe it was the low lighting in the crappy bar. They had been talking for a while.

“You haven’t asked what I’ve been up to, or any of the other ‘its been a really long time’ questions that seem to come with these sorts of reunions” William noted before taking a sip of his drink.

“If I thought you would tell me the truth or cared to know I would have asked you, but…I don’t” She says frankly.

“You think I’d lie to you?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You hardly ever tell the truth, you didn’t when you cheated on me, you didn’t when you left town, if it's all the same to you I think I’ll just make up a story In my head of what you’re up to, or whatever life you lead.” Her words sting but she’s not wrong, he was never honest when he was young, especially to her.

“It's the same to me. I’m sure whatever you come up with is better than reality anyway, you we’re always more creative than me.” He looks at her. He was an idiot to choose anyone over her. In another life, they would have been happy. In another life, He would have been as good to her as she was to him. “You ever think about…what was?”

“Yeah…Often. You know, the road not taken looks real good when everything has gone to shit.” She admits to him as she finished her drink.

“Remember how you watched me leave? We had already Broken up, but you still showed up when they shipped me off to basic…You were crying.”

“I was totally convinced you were going to propose, not break up.”

“Even with all the horrible things I did... you still wanted my last name.” He chuckles

“I was young, and afraid. I thought you’d die out there. I couldn’t bare it.” She laughs as well.

“but I didn’t…are you glad? Or has age made you bitter?” William couldn’t tell her how badly he’d wished he was dead, how much he had wanted it to all end.

“Eh…it's okay with me.” She smirked “Age hasn’t made me bitter about that. Just bitter about everything else.” They talked for a while longer before they started to leave the bar, his hand on her lower back as they left, it seemed almost natural.

“I'm stayin' at my parents' house…If you want to catch up more…” She says casually like it doesn’t mean anything. But he knows that look, the same one that was on her face all those years ago, the one begging him not to leave. He pulls her in so she’s pressed against his chest. He looks at her, his eyes filled with longing.

“Every day, I'm missing your smile, I close my eyes and I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about you.” He whispers as he leans in closer to her. “Can I take you home? Just for old times' sake…” He wants to kiss her. She just might let him. She smiles at him.

“Okay, take me home, Prince Charming.” She teases. He smiles, the first Genuine smile he’s given in a long time. He drives her down familiar streets and as they arrive to her childhood home he parks on the street and steps out of the car, helping her out of the car, and they make it to her door. He takes her into his arms again, like it would be the last time, like he’d never have another chance.

“Come inside… I’ll sneak you up to my bedroom, just like we used to…I'll be yours for the weekend” She closes the distance between them, standing on tip toe to press her lips against his. She knows it’ll end in heartbreak, it always does, but she’s never gotten over him, she’s never been able to love anyone like she loved him. He pulls away after a moment.

“Are you sure…I…I’m not who I used to be…you know that.” His hand on her cheek as he gazes into her eyes, He’s unsure. How could she love him now? With who he is, what he’s done.

“I know…but…Whenever I think of how I wish my life went, what I would change if I could go back…It always leads to you in my hometown…” She’s entirely sincere, and he submits, it’s always been her. It’s always been the two of them despite it all. As they slip inside, William couldn’t help but think.

In another life…She would have asked him to stay, and he would have.

Series Masterlist

#x reader #taylor swift #evermore #Spotify #william tell #tis the damn season #the card counter #william tell x reader #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention #slight angst #oscar isaac #fan fiction

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Chapter One

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: New Sweater

Summary: The confrontation between (Y/N), Sherlock, and Moriarty at the pool comes to an end.

Previously on A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 1)…

“Dad,” mumbled (Y/N), hugging him back tightly and shaking.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” said Sherlock soothingly, comforting both them and him. He took his coat off and threw it over their shoulders to defend against the cold.

“I’m sorry I got caught…I didn’t think…I really tried…” they stumbled over their words.

Sherlock just held them. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You did so well.” I was so scared he’d hurt you. I’m so glad you’re alright and back with me.

The pool door banged open again, and the pair looked up in alarm. Sherlock pushed (Y/N) behind him as Moriarty walked back out.

“Sorry, Holmeses! I’m soooo changeable!” He grinned dramatically. “It is a weakness of mine, but, to be fair, it is my only weakness.” Moriarty sighed in faux-sadness. “You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!” He clapped his hands together. “So I’m going to kill you and continue my game with (Y/N)!”

“Go to hell, you psycho,” snapped (Y/N), all of their fear turning to ferocity by Sherlock’s side. They looked to Sherlock and nodded to him, a silent message to do whatever it took to keep Moriarty from hurting more people.

Sherlock’s eyes softened at the bravery and strength in them before looking decisively at Moriarty. “Probably our answer has crossed yours.” He pulled out and leveled his gun at the abandoned jacket filled with explosives. He disengaged the safety. Sherlock tightened his grip on (Y/N) as he prepared to shoot.

Currently…

“Well, you can tell by the way I walk, I’m a woman’s man, No time to talk, Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around, Since I was born.”

(Y/N) was started out of their focus as Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees began playing. They glanced up at Sherlock, but he had furrowed his brow in confusion as well. Moriarty closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“D’you mind if I get that?” he asked.

“No, no, please. You’ve got the rest of your life,” said Sherlock, nonchalantly. His tone was belied by the tight grip he kept on (Y/N) in case he needed to protect them.

Moriarty pulled his phone from his pocket and answered. “Hello? Yes, of course it is. What do you want?” He mouthed “sorry” at (Y/N) and Sherlock. Sherlock mouthed “It’s fine” right back. Jim rolled his eyes as he listened to the person on the other end of his phone.

“Say that again!” he screamed, face full of a crazed rage that caused (Y/N) to flinch and Sherlock to tighten his grip on them. “Say that again, and know that if you’re lying to me, I will find you, and I will sssssskin you,” hissed Moriarty venomously. He straightened. “Wait.” He lowered the phone and glanced at the bomb jacket. “Sorry. Wrong day to die.”

“Oh. Did you get a better offer?” remarked Sherlock casually. He did not get a response.

“You’ll be hearing from me, (Y/N),” said Moriarty as he turned away and continued his conversation on the phone as he left. “So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don’t, I’ll make you into shoes.” He snapped his fingers as the pool doors closed behind him, and the aiming lasers pointed at Sherlock and (Y/N) disappeared.

(Y/N) let out a sigh of exhausted relief as Sherlock pocketed the gun and spun to tug them into his arms again. He pulled away but looked at them carefully. “Are you alright?”

(Y/N) nodded, trying to swallow their fears and burrow themselves into Sherlock’s coat. “What…what happened?”

“Someone changed his mind,” said Sherlock. “The question is—who?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t handle another mystery tonight.”

Sherlock’s gaze softened. “You won’t have to. We’re heading home.” (Y/N) nodded tiredly, and Sherlock gently guided them out of the pool to freedom.

(Y/N) lay curled up on Sherlock’s bed, staring blankly at the wall, while Sherlock spoke with John in the main room. Their tired mind deduced by John’s raised voice and aghast tone that Sherlock was explaining what had happened, who Moriarty was, and what he had threatened.

They flinched as they remembered how scared they had felt with Moriarty beside them, holding them from getting to Sherlock. He had the ability to shoot Sherlock, kill him and take them away. It made (Y/N) sick to their stomach to feel so powerless to protect the detective that had become their father.

(Y/N) pulled his coat tighter around themselves comfortingly. Moriarty had stolen their familiar purple sweater; the one that had comforted them through any anxiety or overstimulation from deductions. (Y/N) knew it was silly to feel so attached to a single piece of clothing, but they couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort to have that sweater, and now Moriarty had taken another piece of “safety” from them.

“(Y/N)?” asked Sherlock, stepping into the room.

“Mm,” responded (Y/N).

“I explained to John what happened. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” said Sherlock.

“Alright,” said (Y/N).

Sherlock frowned, easily deducing that (Y/N) felt unsafe, even back at Baker Street. He walked over to his closet (more like a pile of clothes he periodically picked up to wear) and searched for a moment. When he found what he was looking for, Sherlock went to the bed and sat down beside (Y/N).

“Here,” he said. “It might be a bit large, and it isn’t the same as your old one, but you can take it.”

(Y/N) sat up and took the purple sweater Sherlock was holding it out to them. It was clearly older, from when he first moved to London even, but it was purple and big and perfect. They took off Sherlock’s coat and pulled on the sweater. They felt the familiar comfort seep into their bones, relaxing them.

“Thank you, Dad,” said (Y/N), looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock felt his heart pound. They had called him ‘Dad’ during the confrontation at the pool, but then it had been adrenaline and panic. Sherlock hadn’t expected them to call him that again, but he was pleasantly surprised. He loved (Y/N), they were his child, so hearing that they thought of him as family meant a lot to him.

“Of course, (Y/N),” said Sherlock, smiling at them. “Now, rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

Neither expected the other to continue being so soft the next day because their emotions were a mess from adrenaline and panic, but both were happy that the other thought of them as family. (Y/N) was Sherlock’s child, and Sherlock was (Y/N)’s dad. It didn’t matter what happened the next day or the words they used for it. In the end, they both knew the truth. They were family.

And when John looked into the room later that night, that was exactly the thought that went through his head when he saw them curled up together.

Over the next few months, Sherlock, (Y/N), and John found themselves involved with case after case. They didn’t mind, though, it kept them busy, John brought in money from happy clients as well as his job at a clinic, and none of them had to deal with Moriarty bothering them. That made Sherlock particularly grateful. Clearly, someone had gotten Moriarty not to try to kill them that night at the pool. No one had come forward for that, though, leaving a growing mystery. But if it meant (Y/N) was safe, he wouldn’t tempt fate. Sherlock would be happy with Moriarty being out of the picture for now.

However, he was not happy with all the attention and boring cases he was being forced into. People would read John’s blog and wander in with stupidly simple cases that John would force Sherlock to take because (Y/N) and him needed to be kept busy (if only for the sake of Mrs. Hudson’s walls and keeping bombs out of the apartment).

“My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office,” one idiot would say.

“Boring.”

“I think my husband might be having an affair,” said another.

“Yes.”

Even one guy with an urn of ashes came in and claimed that, “She’s not my real aunt. She’s been replaced—I know she has. I know human ash.”

Yeah, Sherlock was quick to throw that one out. Sometimes, there were some cases with an interesting twist. Like the boys who had comic books they were blogging about coming true. He was not satisfied when John turned it into a blog titled The Geek Interpreter. He thought it was silly.

“Do people even read your blog?” asked Sherlock as he leaned over a woman’s body at the hospital.

“Where d’you think our clients come from?” asked John.

“I have a website,” said Sherlock.

“In which you enumerate 240 different types of tobacco ash. Nobody’s reading your website,” pointed out John.

(Y/N) shrugged. “He’s got a point. Most people aren’t smart enough to understand your website.” Sherlock grumbled at that.

Still, at least those cases had some interest and kept him busy. Otherwise, he would get snippy. Once, two girls came in and said, “They wouldn’t let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that cause he’d gone to heaven?”

Sherlock’s response was, unfortunately, “People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned.”

That’ll make them think he went to hell, thought (Y/N).

In other cases, Lestrade brought them in to consult. “There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everybody dead.”

“Suspected terrorist bombing,” said (Y/N), nodding. “They showed it on the news.”

“For a moment, at least, and then Sherlock said, ‘Boring!’ and changed the channel,” added John.

“Well, according to flight details this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat, he’s got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of these special biscuits,” said Lestrade. “Here’s his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday, but instead he’s in a car boot in Southwark.”

“Lucky escape,” said John sarcastically. (Y/N) hummed, a lollipop in their mouth.

“Any ideas?” asked Lestrade.

Sherlock was silent as he looked over the boot and the body. “Eight so far. Okay, four ideas.” Taking the passport and looking at the sky above, he frowned. “Maybe two ideas.”

A few days later, Sherlock scowled as he saw what John was writing. “Sherlock Holmes Baffled” read the title of the blog post. “No, no, no, don’t mention the unsolved ones,” he grumbled.

“People want to know you’re human,” said John.

“Why?” asked Sherlock.

(Y/N) shrugged. “It interests common people, I guess.”

John grinned. “Look at that.” He tapped his screen. “1895.”

“Sorry, what?” asked Sherlock.

“I reset the blog counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock, not 240 different types of tobacco ash,” said John satisfactorily.

“243,” corrected Sherlock sullenly.

Still, it wasn’t just John’s blog making Sherlock a sensation. The paparazzi were following him and his teenage apprentice around often now. They waited outside crime scenes, all clamoring for a picture of the famed detectives.

“There’s a lot of press outside,” warned Lestrade as Sherlock prepared to leave a crime scene.

“Well, they won’t be interested in us,” said Sherlock.

“Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photos of you three,” said Lestrade.

Sherlock huffed. “For God’s sake.” He stopped by a rack of costume pieces and picked up three hats. He tossed a cap to John, pulled on a deerstalker on himself, and handed a newsboy hat to (Y/N). “Cover your face and walk fast.”

“No problem,” said (Y/N), pulling the hat low over their head. They didn’t want a lot of attention anyways.

“Still, it’s good for public image, a big case like this,” said Lestrade.

“I’m a consulting detective. The last thing I need is public image,” grumbled Sherlock.

Still, not everything was exciting, and Sherlock refused to get out of the house sometimes, so when a poor man, Phil, came to the trio with a strange case, John was sent to the countryside while Sherlock, not even dressed, sat with his computer. (Y/N) lounged beside him, bored out of their mind. They had already figured out the case, so this was just Sherlock wasting time until the next actually interesting case.

“You realize this is a tiny bit humiliating?” huffed John as he carried the computer over towards the body of the man Phil was suspected of killing by the river.

Sherlock yawned. “It’s okay, I’m fine. Now, show me to the stream.”

“I meant for myself, Sherlock,” said John.

(Y/N) shrugged. “It’ll be a quick case anyway. Super obvious.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement. “And anyways, it’s a six. There’s no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back and show me the grass.”

He really was just wasting time. (Y/N) stretched and reached for a lollipop.

“When did we agree to that?” asked John.

“We agreed to it yesterday,” said Sherlock, ignoring the sound of the doorbell ringing.

“I wasn’t even home yesterday,” said John, frowning. “I was at work.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault you weren’t listening,” said Sherlock. “Shut up!” he shouted at the doorbell, still ringing insistently.

“D’you just carry on talking when I’m away?” asked John.

“He does,” said (Y/N). “Can you show us the car that backfired?” They had decided they might as well waste some time as well.

“If you’re thinking gunshot, there wasn’t one, he wasn’t shot; he was killed by a single blow to the head from a blunt instrument which then disappeared along with the killer,” said John. “That’s gotta be an eight at least, Sherlock, (Y/N).”

“You’ve got two minutes, then I want to know more about the driver,” said the investigator in charge.

“Oh, forget him. He’s an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?” said Sherlock, waving a hand dismissively.

“I think he’s a suspect!” declared the investigator.

“John, pass me over,” said Sherlock, irritated.

“Alright, but there’s a mute button, and I will use it,” threatened John.

“Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?” challenged Sherlock.

“He’s trying to be clever. It’s overconfidence,” scoffed the investigator.

“Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undiagnosed halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict, and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition,” said Sherlock, rolling his eyes.

“Low self-esteem, tiny IQ, limited life expectancy,” listed (Y/N). They glanced at the fuming investigator on the video call. “And you think he’s a brilliant criminal mastermind?”

Sherlock leaned back and glanced at the man in question, who looked stricken. “Don’t worry, this is stupid.”

“Untreated what?” squeaked the man, but he was ignored.

“Go to the stream,” said Sherlock to the investigator.

“What’s in the stream?” he asked.

“Go and see for yourself,” said (Y/N).

Before they could get the confirmation of their theory, Mrs. Hudson opened the door to their apartment. She looked fretful as two official men in suits walked into the room. “Sherlock! You weren’t answering your doorbell!”

“His room’s through the back. Get him some clothes,” ordered one man to the other.

“Who the hell are you?” questioned Sherlock, shifting slightly to get protectively in front of (Y/N) as he deduced who they were. He relaxed once he did, realizing they weren’t a threat to (Y/N), but he didn’t move.

“Sorry, Mr. Holmes, Mx. (L/N), you’re coming with us,” said the man, closing the computer.

(Y/N) and Sherlock exchanged glances. Maybe they would get a little excitement now.

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