#i have been WAITING for THIS for 15 freaking years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sophiethewitch1 · 11 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

2K notes · View notes

legend-the-dumb-jock · 1 month ago

Note

I have always had a hard time gaining muscle since I have a genetic problem in that area and I look younger than I am because I am a pasty white ginger. My dream has always been to be one of those huge hairy lumberjacks. I wish you could get me a job as one and within a few days I grow into my new roll.

Gingers are amazing. It sounds like we just need to set you on the right track. Sleeping through the night you have dreams of muscle. Hair. And being a lumberjack. Little did you know that while you sleep your body begins to change. Getting on the right bath. You grow taller from 5’6” to a giant 6’2”. You feet hang off the bed ! And muscle begins to grow. Real hulking your frame up. Massive arms hang from your sides while massive pecs form over a strong core ! And hair grows. And lots of it. Soon you’re a wirey mess of hair and muscle. Sweat is pouring off your body and staining the end sheets. Even dripping off your thickened large feet.

Waking up you are shocked to see such a grand change over night. You’re flexing and can’t help it ! You can’t wait to show off your new lumberjack body. This is really a dream come true ! Your friends come over and are shocked at your transformation. They don’t even believe it’s you but they can still see it is. Your face even though covered with hair is still recognizable under the thick pelt that’s now on it. They demand to know how this happened. What did you do! And you just smirk and say “well wishes come try to people who ask the right person” and indeed you are right 😈

You enjoy the rest of the evening with your friend. Loving it up as they call you name like ginger bear and the walking barrel! You’re huge ! One downfall so far though is that you notice how much more you sweat. How much hungrier you are. You don’t think you stopped eating all day ! But a growing bean like yourself needs all the calories you can get don’t you? That night you pass out. Those 15 beers really did you in!

While you sleep just like the night before you begin to change again. Hair thickening. Becoming more prominent on your arms and hands even your feet. But one other thing happens. Age. You begin to quickly lose that youthful appearance as you take on a more rugged look. One that is fitting of a lumberjack. One that been doing it for a couple years or so. Lines forming on your face and your muscle growing less defined but non the less till there. You wake up the next morning sore. You sit up in bed and don’t notice anything right off hand other than you back slightly hurting. Calases on your hands and feet have formed. It that’s from being a true lumberjack right? You walk to the bathroom and you’re shocked to see a man I of at least 40 staring back at you !

You step back from the mirror. What is going on!? Your mind is in a panic but your face registered none of these emotions. A lumberjack doesn’t freak out. If anything your body as if on auto pilot gives rush same smirk again and you get dressed. You go out for the day. Getting a beer here and there. Eating! You try to reach out to your friends and they respond back asking who you are. You’re too old to have friends their age now anyway right ? So it’s all part of the magic. You’ll need to find new friends that str more inline with the same path you’re on.

You make it back to your home which you see is slowly changing. Becoming more of a log cabin it looks like. Busting through the door with some tightening shoes and some sweaty pits you stumble to the kitchen with your case of beer. Another 15 in and your already passed out on the couch. And now it’s time for the final change. You age another 10 years. 50! Now you’ve really got some serious life experience as a lumberjack. A thick great beard grows across your face as your timberland boots burrs open at the toes from your feet growing another 4 sizes. 17!! Your nipples point downward on hard slabs of muscle the sag only slightly. You’re snoring louder than ever as your stomach pushes outward. Holding the same rock hard appearance and feel that it has before. But now forcing a massive rock hard muscle gut onto your frame. When you wake up and see the changes this time youre shocked. Internally screaming again. But your body won’t respond to this emotion. Instead. Instinctively open another beer and chug it. And another. And another. You stand up from the couch and kick off your trashed shoes. Your socks have holes in them as you make your way to the bathroom. Stripping off the remnants of clothes that won’t fit anymore you stare at your massive finger bear body in the mirror. “Damn I look good!” You growl. Distended abdomen. Bulging bulking muscle. Massive feet. And so much hair you look like you’re wearing a damn sweater. You smile at your sweaty body. Now the only problem. You’re a lumberjack….but without clothes.

170 notes · View notes

joequiinn · 8 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 5

[chap four] | [all chapters here] | [chap six]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I'm very excited for this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that inspired this whole fic! Before I knew what the hell I even wanted to write, I played this idea of a figure skating character over and over again in my head as I built up the story around it. I'm a little behind on writing the next chap, so it may be a slightly longer wait between this and the next one! Hope you all love it!

wc: 4.8k

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220 @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Five

You skated at least four times a week. You’ve done so since you were ten years old, when you decided that you wanted to take figure skating more seriously. Whether or not you had competitions, whether or not you were in the mood for it, you always stuck with your skating routine. With competition season coming up in November, you knew you’d have to start practicing more, putting in longer hours and more days in preparation.

Or maybe not. After all, competing was something that your mom enjoyed, that she encouraged wholeheartedly. Regardless of how much you enjoyed it, it didn’t exactly fit the teenage rebellion thing you had going on right now. Maybe you wouldn’t go to competition this year, maybe you’d skip out on your final season out of pure spite - now that would be cruel. Although a part of you hurt at that idea - because you really did love skating - you reasoned that it was something you had to consider.

Fridays were always very long days for you. While your peers would be set free to roam following the 3pm school bell, you had more obligations for the day. Once you left school, you crammed in as much homework as you could before hitting the ice rink by 4:30 at the latest to get your own practice in. Once that was done, you led a youth skating practice until 7pm, then you tried to squeeze in some more skating time before the hockey team took to the ice at 7:15. After arriving home at 8 o’clock or later, you crammed more homework so you wouldn’t have to deal with it over the weekend, and then by that point you’d be too worn out for anything else, so you generally slept late into the next morning.

This had been your routine for over a year now, ever since your own couch suggested that you needed to get more extracurriculars under your belt for your college applications. She had insisted that your resume would look far more impressive if you showed that you had teaching experience and “leadership potential,” an idea that really appealed to your parents, who were determined for you to get into a good school, maybe even on a figure skating scholarship. So, you ended up taking over the Friday night children’s lessons whether you wanted to or not.

You honestly despised it. You led children age 5 to 7, and they were a constant pain in the ass. You couldn’t raise your voice without one of them crying, you couldn’t leave them to their own devices without someone inevitably ending up hurt. Yet, you stuck with it because you were told to, because the adults around you insisted that you needed to. You couldn’t stand the way your coach would insist that this would help develop your skills, you couldn’t stand how your mother insisted “you’ll look back on this so fondly when you’re older.” These damned kids skating lessons were something else you’d probably drop soon, because you barely tolerated them as is.

While everyone else was at the football game, while Eddie was probably off playing his stupid fantasy game or doing something equally as nerdy, you were here at the ice rink, shouting instructions at children while parents and hockey players watched. Some of the parents had made it clear before that they weren’t fond of your impatient and mean teaching methods, but your coach always seemed to talk them out of pulling their kids from your group. She always argued something about you being the best skating in the county, but you weren’t sure how true that was - sure, you had your fair share of medals, but even with your ego you were pretty sure there were better skaters at your level.

“Come on, slackers, we’ve got five minutes left!” You taunted your group of 11 kids as they skated around the perimeter of the rink as a cool down. You zipped ahead of them, leading the charge as you skated backwards to keep an eye on them.

Many of the older kids had grown used to your abrasive coaching, but you could see that many of the newbies were still frightened of you, your loud voice, and your cold eyes. As a means of excusing your poor teaching style, you always said that skating was a tough sport and they needed to toughen up if they wanted to be any good at it. For how pretty and elegant figure skating could be, you knew from experience that competitive skating could be harsh, so you figured you were helping these kids prepare for it.

Because the Hawkins High hockey team had the rink after your group every Friday, many of them were already sitting on the sidelines, getting their gear ready or watching you work. The cocky part of you enjoyed the attention, but hockey players were stupid, so you rarely gave any of them a chance whenever they tried talking to you. Nonetheless, when you were in a good mood, you enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for them, shooting flirty glances their way or occasionally calling out remarks to them between instructing the kids. Tonight, you were paying them little mind, but that didn’t stop you from looking their way every now and again.

As you led the kids back to the center of the ice to wrap up the lesson, a lot of their parents were also waiting in the bleachers or out in the lobby. While you skated back and forth in front of your little army of children, going over some instructions for their next practice with your coach on Monday, your eyes roamed the bleachers. You gave a wicked grin to the hockey players that watched you, meanwhile you took in the parents with very little regards. It was as you looked over the clusters of parents that you saw a familiar face sitting at the penalty bench, and unintentionally you let your toe pick drag on the ice, which very nearly caused you to trip.

God damn Eddie Munson.

As you glared in his direction, hoping your momentary lack of balance didn’t make you look too stupid, you dismissed the kids before gliding towards the dasher board. Eddie, grinning like an asshole, stood up to meet you as children began to exit the ice. You braced yourself on the rail of the board, eyes narrowed at Eddie who appeared far too amused for your liking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in lieu of a greeting. Eddie briefly glances over at the kids leaving the ice.

“You’re incredible with children.” He mocked, smiling far too wide for your liking; you narrowed your eyes while wondering just how long he’d been here, “Figured I might find you here.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” You respond coldly, gaze briefly looking in the direction of the hockey team to find a couple of them watching your interaction.

“You did say we needed to make plans, figure out how this was going to work,” Eddie started, taking in your red cheeks and slightly damp forehead that developed over the course of your skating lessons.

“I also said we’d talk about it next week.” You glowered a little, not worried if any of the hockey players saw it - maybe they’d simply mistake it for a lovers quarrel. Eddie grinned, holding his arms up as if he were a presenter on some dumb show.

“No time like the present, right?” Your unamused face gave him all the answer he needed, and his expression fell a little in annoyance, “And here I hoped I was being a good fake boyfriend by visiting you at the rink.”

“You’re being too good a fake boyfriend,” You jab.

Now that all the kids were off the ice, you slid towards the open gate; Eddie kept pace with you on the other side of the dasher board, meeting you at the gate and offering you his hand in assistance. You looked between his face and his outstretched hand with a glare, but eventually accepted his help, stepping over the barrier and onto the slightly cushy floor on the other side.

“I told you not tonight because I’m busy.” You walk over to the gym bag you left sitting on the nearest bleachers. As you sat beside it, Eddie shrugged with a carelessness that seemed almost false.

“Then I’ll go.” He answered simply as you removed your skates, “Just thought it might not be a bad idea to get to know you a little better. It’s not gonna be easy to fake date someone who you know nothing about.”

You shot him a harsh look while putting skate guards over your blades. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he had a good point, especially since you had already discussed it before. You sighed heavily through your nose, your cold eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Can’t it wait? I’ve had a long day.”

Eddie studied you for a moment, leaning back against the dasher board before looking around the ice rink. You quickly put some worn sneakers on your feet and stood, picking your bag and turning away with the intention to leave. But Eddie’s gentle grip on your wrist stopped you from going anywhere, causing you to look between his hand and his face. As you two held eye contact, you realized that Eddie could be just as stubborn as you when he wanted; damn, was this going to be difficult.

“Let me buy you dinner - I’m sure you’re starving,” Eddie started, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if he thought your attitude was because you were hangry. You chewed your lower lip, eyes staring critically at Eddie for another few moments before you let out a defeated sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax a little. Considering that it had been nearly eight hours since your lunch break, it might now be a bad idea to eat something.

Eddie’s eyes softened at your silent resignation, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He finally released your wrist, nodding his head in the direction of the lobby, “Come on, you pick.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Your pick ended up being a 24-hour diner downtown. Eddie showed clear confusion when you mentioned it, so you explained that - for whatever reason - the diner had become something of a tradition, where students congregated post-Friday night football into the wee hours of the night. You’d joined that crowd a number of times in the past, but had no more interest in it - what you were interested in was having people see you and Eddie out together.

You knew it would still be at least an hour before the football crowd arrived, but that wasn’t such a bad thing - it gave you and Eddie a bit of time to actually become acquainted, to learn more about each other beyond “ice princess” and “the freak.”

You studied Eddie while sipping on a chocolate shake, waiting for your food to arrive. He stared back at you unabashedly, and you figured you could be locked into this staring contest until the end of time given how stubborn you both could be. As if Eddie knew what you were thinking, he smirked, finally caving as he looked away from you.

“Not to sound cliche,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous, but you assumed that couldn’t be true, “but… tell me about yourself?”

You smiled at how dumb the question was - that was so cliche. It was as good a starting place as any you figured, but that didn’t make it sound any less silly and forced. You leaned back in your seat, still holding tight to your milkshake as if it were a lifeline.

Putting on your best Miss America voice, you replied, “Well, I’m freshly 18 from Hawkins, Indiana. I love long walks on the beach, snuggling up with a good book, and I hope one day we’ll have world peace.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, although you could tell he was fighting back a grin, “You’re making this very challenging considering that it was your idea.”

You shrug, taking a big gulp of the chocolate shake, “I guess I’m just a challenging person.”

“You guess?” Eddie laughed mockingly at that, “You’re the most challenging I’ve met. So, how about you try relaxing a little or else no one’s going to buy that we’re together.”

You made a face at the near-insult, finally putting down your drink. You leaned your elbows on the table, taking in Eddie’s face for a moment, stubbornly resisting the urge to say anything. Again, he had a good point, not that you wanted to tell him that. Eddie appeared to have an idea as he mirrored your pose.

“Okay, we’ll go back and forth, a question for a question; how’s that?” You nodded, “Right. First question: Why me?”

Your brows furrowed a little in thought, pinning down a good answer while trying to recall what you’ve already told him, “Haven’t I already explained that?”

“Kind of.” Eddie rolled his hand in a motion that basically said “but go on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment while thinking, “Your reputation. People don’t know you, but your reputation is in the absolute gutter. No better person to turn to than the guy who everyone in the school already hates.”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the answer, “Okay, your turn.”

You grinned a little, a question already on your lips, “Why’d you agree to it?”

It was something you’d speculated briefly throughout the week, as you thought that your trade offer might not have been a compelling enough reason for Eddie to agree to this stupid plan. And now you could finally get the answer you were looking for.

Eddie silently stared at you in consideration, and again it almost felt like he was able to read your thoughts somehow. Finally, he answered, “Curiosity.”

You raised a brow in question, to which he once more scratched the back of his neck - maybe that actually was a nervous habit, so you took note of it.

“We both know this idea is kinda crazy,” Eddie started, mulling over his thoughts before continuing, “But I wanted to see how it plays out. See if we can actually trick people into believing it. And I wanted to see if you were as awful as I thought you were.”

You balked instantly, an amused huff escaping your mouth, “‘Awful?’ Jesus, you keep acting like I’m the devil or something.”

Eddie made a face while shrugging, not disagreeing with you, “You thought the same about me. So, let’s call it square.”

Food was finally brought to your table, and you had to resist the urge to attack the greasy burger set in front of you; you didn’t need Eddie to see you act like a ravenous gremlin over some food, even if it had been over eight hours since you’d eaten anything. But you nonetheless dug in, albeit with far more control than your empty, growling stomach would have liked.

“Your turn.” You say around a bite of food, causing Eddie to smile in amusement and the unladylike action.

“Hmm…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing you as he contemplated his next question. Self consciously, you wiped at the corner of your mouth just to make sure there wasn’t any stray ketchup or grease sitting there, “Why ice skating?”

“Because it’s better than cheerleading.” You smiled at your own joke before giving a slightly better answer, “I always thought it was pretty. Nothing else to it, unfortunately; no deep story and significance to it.”

“Fine.” Eddie responded almost as if he was disappointed by the mundane answer.

“Why Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Your questions can’t keep being off-shoots of mine.” Eddie laughed a little, and despite yourself it caused you to smile smally as well.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” He responded while pointing at himself, “I get to come up with some of the rules now, remember?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a degree of fondness, which you immediately found strange, so you tried to wipe the look from your face. Nope, you weren’t fond of Eddie Munson, not at all.

You went back to your food, hoping Eddie didn’t catch the amused look on your face. You spoke around another bite of food, “Do you have siblings?”

“None that I know of.” He replied around his own mouthful of food, “But I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if there were any out there.”

You cocked your head a little at the response; it wasn’t so much shocking or sad, rather it was unexpected and different from your own life. You made a mental note to learn more about Eddie’s family, if not tonight then at a later point.

“What’s your plan after graduation?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then paused - what was your plan now that you were trying to make your own decisions? You hadn’t even considered it. Did you still want to go to college? Where? Studying what? You suddenly realized that you had no true plan for yourself, only the one outlined by your parents, and that realization made you nervous.

“Honest answer: not a fucking clue.” Eddie looked taken aback by the response, so you continued, “My plan before was getting into a good school on a skating scholarship, and studying something completely irrelevant. My parents expect my skating to carry me through life until some good, rich man sweeps me off my feet.”

“But that’s not your plan anymore?”

“That’s another question.” You give him a teasing grin, causing Eddie to roll his eyes, “First, answer me this: If you weren’t stuck in Hawkins, where would you go?”

Eddie grinned with an unexpected eagerness, “LA. The music scene there is insane, and I’d happily sleep on the streets if it meant I had a shot at making my own music.”

Your eyes softened ever so slightly at the unexpected, genuine response - admittedly, you didn’t peg Eddie as the type to have any real goals. But music? That was interesting to you since you weren’t even aware that he played any instruments. You wondered if he was actually any good at it, or if it was some foolish aspiration.

“Now, what’s your plan?” Eddie repeated, smirking at the look on your face - this was one of the few times you didn’t look like a total bitch, so he appreciated it. In fact, you looked relaxed and, dare he say, content; that was certainly unexpected from you.

When you shrugged, he shook his head, leaning forward again, “No, you come up with a plan right now. Don’t base it off what your parents want or what you think sounds like the right answer. What do you want to do with your life once we’re done with this shit hole?”

You contemplated, a mild concern washing over you as you stared at Eddie - what the hell did you want? And why did you suddenly feel so vulnerable because of the question. You had to rip your gaze away from Eddie’s, hardening your expression as you tried to think up an answer that felt right.

“I… I like art, I love clothes,” You started dumbly, glancing at Eddie through your lashes, expecting him to make a face at the lame answer, “I don’t know shit about them in a technical way, but it might be fun for college. Take painting or sewing classes during the day, skate until my feet hurt at night, maybe… I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, LA… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.”

“Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to LA together after graduation, huh?” Eddie smiled widely, and you allowed an amused look to cross your face.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You returned to your food as you tried to come up with a good question for Eddie. An intriguing one came to you, so you asked before you could second guess it, “How do you expect your fake girlfriend to act?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed; it didn’t appear to be due to him misunderstanding the question, but rather that it was unexpected; he even looked maybe hesitant to answer it. Again, he scratched his neck.

You lean forward a little, looking at him seriously, “Give me a good answer, okay? We’re just gonna keep going in circles otherwise.”

Eddie shrugged, “Maybe I don’t have any expectations.”

“Then come up with some.” You immediately counter, prodding the same way he had about your plans for the future. Eddie stared at you with scrutiny while chewing the inside of his lip, as if he didn’t want to come up with a response to the question. You waited, making a mock sweet face at him while you chowed down on your fries. You were going to demand an answer until he gave you one.

“Well, going off the rules you already established,” He made a bit of a face as if to mock the oh-so-sacred fake dating rules, “Aside from playing nice in front of others, it might be helpful if you were less stubborn; you’re like a damn bull.”

You gave him a joshing smile right back, “Fair. Is that it?”

Eddie quickly shook his finger; now it was just a back-and-forth game of you mocking one another, “Ah, that’s another question.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes with a short laugh, “That is not another question.”

Eddie gave a fake look of apology, shrugging again, “Unfortunately, it is.”

You threw a french fry at him, which lamely hit his chest then landed in his lap. As he laughed and picked it up, you found yourself smiling fondly again, and you quickly tried to shake off the expression.

At that moment, the bell above the front door chimed, and immediately the diner was filled with rambunctious conversation. Your heart jumped a little, realizing the time, and you briefly glanced in the direction of the door; the group that had entered wasn’t your friends, although you recognized them. You turned your attention back to Eddie, who gave you another grin.

“Showtime.” He stated simply, and then a thought appeared to cross his mind, “You want another expectation? Tell me if anything I do is too much, but otherwise let me do what I do - you don’t need to be in control all the time.”

“Don’t I, though?” You countered haughtily, which was met by a flash of seriousness across Eddie’s eyes.

“No, you don’t. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. Considering that you’d never seen him even interact with a girl before, you weren’t sure if he knew the first thing about dating or romance. But despite your doubts, you relented, relaxing your shoulders as if to show you were relinquishing some control.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes nonetheless, forever obstinate as you mocked, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but otherwise I’ll let you do what you do.”

“Was that so hard?” Eddie replied with a condescending smirk. You sneered before relaxing your face, knowing your friends were bound to appear any minute now.

As you stole another glance at the door, you suddenly felt Eddie’s fingers graze the back of your hand, drawing your attention back to him with a confused little knot between your brows. He held your gaze as if to make a point, as if to remind you of the conversation you just had, that he knew what he was doing. His hand simply sat on top of yours, your fingers ever so slightly lacing together - he raised his brows as if to dare you to pull away from him. You had to resist the urge to narrow your eyes at him and snatch your hand away, and in turn Eddie gave you a cocky grin before continuing to eat with his free hand.

Eventually, your friends appeared, although they didn’t notice you at first. They were all so full of energy as they excitedly spoke to each other, descending upon a few tables in the middle of the diner and pushing them together. The staff were used to it, although you knew from experience that they nonetheless hated it; you guys were always disruptive to the other patrons, and you figured that was never going to change.

You tried your best not to stare, but your eyes kept trailing over, kept studying the excited faces of the people you considered friends only a couple of weeks ago. After your eyes had drifted over for the umpteenth time, you felt Eddie lightly squeeze your fingers, causing you to unintentionally sneer at how strange it was to maintain this physical contact with him.

“Stop staring,” He instructed when you looked back at him.

With a quarrelsome look in your eyes, you did as Eddie told you, returning your attention to the half eaten burger on your plate, “Talk to me about something, then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t care, just talk so I can pretend to be interested.”

Eddie looked mildly put off by that, and you realized that you’d taken your customary mean tone with him. You couldn’t seem to help yourself with your former cohorts nearby, it was as if their energy was rubbing off on you.

“You know what I’m going to talk about,” Eddie taunted with a wide grin.

Your face fell in realization, “Please not Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So, there’s this character, Kas, who has really interesting lore--”

You threw another fry at Eddie, and at that same moment, you felt someone come up alongside your table. You both look up to see Amelia there with a critical look on her face; your gaze drifts past her, noticing that a few people from her table were also looking at you and Eddie.

You met Amelia’s eyes again, giving her a wide, false smile, “Small world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I’m sure you just completely forgot we always come here after games.”

“Maybe she just wanted to see her dear friends.” Eddie chimed in mockingly, once again surprising you with his willingness to instigate confrontation. You laughed as a dumbfounded look crossed Amelia’s at his remark.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Amelia snarked with a glare before turning her gaze back to you, “And I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it’s already getting pretty old.”

You shrug with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of a change every now and then, you know?”

Amelia didn’t look convinced as she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, well, this ‘change’ doesn’t suit you at all.”

Before you could respond with another quip, Amelia spun on her heel and briskly returned to her table. By that point, everyone there was watching and awaiting Amelia’s return, quickly huddling together to whisper conspiratorially once she sat down.

You and Eddie shared an amused glance; he went back to poking at his food as your gaze trailed back to Amelia and company. You happened to lock eyes with Duncan, who stared at you with harsh scrutiny, as if he wasn’t buying this thing between you and Eddie in the slightest. You gave Duncan a mocking while, starting to wave before flipping him off, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his food. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he hit his chest a couple of times, trying to clear his throat. The sound of such a genuine laugh escaping you was absolutely foreign to Eddie, but he decided it was a sound he enjoyed, even if it was at his expense; he made a mental note that he had to find ways to make you laugh more that didn’t involve him choking.

“You could’ve killed me.” Eddie croaked before laughing himself, his smile wide.

“You’re fine.” You teased, squeezing his fingers while giving him a false pout of sympathy, “You big baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in amusement, digging his wallet out while finally relinquishing the grip he had on your hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tossed money onto the table and stood, offering his hand to you again. You quickly snagged one last fry before accepting Eddie’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He once again laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowded diner, and you had to fight back the desire to cringe in confusion at it. The both of you eyed the crowd of Hawkins High’s elite as they watched you back critically.

Once outside the diner, Eddie paused in front of one of the large windows and pulled a ridiculous face at the kids still watching you; he quickly tugged your arm, leading you back towards the van as you laughed again at his antics.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

390 notes · View notes

solxamber · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚✿˖ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist II ˖✿˚⋆

Masterlist I

Heartslabyul

Possessed - Ace x reader

Something’s going on with Ace. He's being nice which either means he's possessed or has done something extremely illegal. (Spoiler alert: It's neither)

Octavinelle

Trash Novel Chronicles: My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy - Floyd x reader

"You get isekaid into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving all your problems."

Shot Through the Heart - Jade x reader

As a senior Cupid with a 99% matchmaking rate, your flawless record crumbles before your eyes when Jade Leech resists every arrow you shoot.

Scarabia

Trash Novel Chronicles: Stealing the Plot for Drama - Jamil x reader

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it. So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport.

Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire - Kalim x reader

You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.

It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

Brighter than the Sun - Kalim x reader

Kalim shines like the sun, radiant and unwavering—yet each day, he burns a little closer to the edge, waiting for the moment he no longer has to be the light for everyone else.

Pomefiore

Just the Way You Are - Vil x reader {Request}

Vil shows you that you’re perfect as you are, helping you embrace your beauty inside and out.

Take Two - Vil x reader

You and Vil, once lovers, are forced to reunite through work, stirring up old heartbreak and undeniable tension. Slowly, you realize love never truly left, and some stories deserve a second chance.

Totally Normal Romance - Rook x reader

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

Diasomnia

Starstruck - Malleus x reader

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

1800-Curse-Control - Lilia x reader

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

Multi Characters

Making Up After an Argument With: Vice Housewardens + Kalim

Vice Housewardens + Kalim trying a period simulator

Summer Nights with: Housewardens + Jamil

Romance Clichés with: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

Desperate Confessions with: Leona, Riddle ; Jamil, Sebek

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil ; Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Pick Us! (In which you have to choose a club and everyone wants a piece of you)

And I Pick... (In which you choose the club)

Requests

Jealous! Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Epel

Vil x Mermaid! Reader

Jamil x Intimidating! Reader

Azul, Malleus, Idia x Alien! Reader

First Year Trio vs Freshly Painted Bench

Vil x Reader who finds Neige creepy

White Rabbit! Reader Aftermath (All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya)

Housewardens x Reader with a blinding smile

Leona x Reader (Romantic, Reader considers him their king)

Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's clothing

Leona with drunk! reader

Malleus x Leona’s Bodyguard! Reader

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

Rook, Trey, Malleus, Vil x Witch! Reader

Jamil, Floyd, Azul, Idia with the Orange Peel Theory (Kinda)

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil reacting to reader singing their Villain songs

Ace x reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)

Leona, Octatrio, Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Rollo x Kokomi! Jellyfish! Reader

Drabbles/Asks

Kissing Malleus’s forehead scale

Main Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #masterlist

153 notes · View notes

smusherina · 7 months ago

Text

yard work - chapter 15 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 16

Shivering in the cold, hiding beneath the bleachers, you held your cigarette between trembling fingers. Crouched on your feet so you wouldn't have to sit in the snow, your legs were already going numb.

Taking a drag, you held back tears. She'd tried, she picked you, and you didn't want it. No, you did want it, but didn't believe it.

Your phone beeped. It'd been ringing and pinging since you left. Kylie and Mrs George were worried about you. You'd text them back soon enough, let them know you felt under the weather, and that you were home.

"You're so predictable, y'know," You startled so badly that you toppled into the snow.

"Fuck!" The burning bit of your cigarette fell onto your hand. "Ouch! Fuck!"

"Should be flattered or offended?" Regina—fuck, Regina—stood over you, hands on her hips. She was still in just the camp tee. You spied the hairs on her arms were prickling.

"What do you want?" You grouched, flicking your barren cigarette away.

"What did you think of the song?" She cocked out a hip and crossed her arms.

You got up, not wanting to crane your neck as you had this conversation. You brushed off the snow clinging to your clothes.

"Real pretty. I..." You could pay her a compliment. Casually. "I do like your singing voice."

"I know. You've told me. I also know you're not intellectually challenged, so..." She trailed off, eyebrows quirking and eyes scanning your face.

"Yeah," You sighed. "A song isn't gonna do it."

"Just wanted to make sure you got the message." She straightened her spine and uncrossed her arms, instead intertwining her fingers in front of her. She took a deep breath and spoke:

"I'm sorry. I don't know if... I'm sorry for back then. When I left you in middle school. I don't know if explaining why would help, because," She glanced up at you. "I don't want to make excuses. You were my friend, my best friend, and I should've done better. Done right by you."

You didn't know quite what to say.

"I'm also sorry for Thanksgiving. I'm sorry I freaked out like that. I felt..." She fiddled with her fingers. "Rejected, I guess, and I didn't know how to handle it. I should've handled it better, that's for sure."

You stood there, waiting to feel some relief or happiness or even anger. Anything.

"I know apologies aren't gonna be enough. I tried to prove to you with that song that..." She swallowed. "That you're more important to me than status. I don't need to wow everybody if I had you. I've changed."

She looked up at you, also waiting. Still nothing.

"Do you think you'd already be hugging me if whatever happened today hadn't happened?" She bit her lip. "I'll make them pay, y'know."

"I thought you'd changed." You parrotted her words back at her. Brain whirring to action, you digested that it hadn't been her. Or maybe she was bluffing.

"Not that much. Not enough to not do anything when somebody hurts you."

"I..." You examined her, brow furrowing. "I haven't told many people. Only you and Mrs George. Janis, too."

"You told Janis?" Indignant, Regina's voice rose and arms spread. She was getting cold you could tell, because she shivering intensely, teeth chattering if not for the clench of her jaw.

"It came up some time ago." Back when I was still defending you. "Solidarity, y'know."

"Okay, fine, but why do you assume they had to know? There's been buzz about your sexuality before, unprompted." Her eyes narrowed. "I would know. I took care of them."

You blinked. "What?"

"Obviously. You..." She looked away as if looking for a way to convey what she meant without speaking it. "I just didn't want that. For you."

Was she lying to you? Trying to manipulate you? What was her goal? You didn't trust yourself to believe this was all sincerity and the lack of foundation, the instability of your own conclusions, made you feel crazy.

You circled back, refusing to process Regina supposedly protecting you all this time. What did it mean? No, not now.

"Yeah, but why now? Isn't the timing a little too convenient?" You accused, looking at Regina closely for signs of guilt. "You had every reason, all the power, to fuck me over, Regina. I think it was you."

"What? No. Why would I do that? I just dedicated a song to you!" She sounded frantic. "I've kept you safe!"

"I don't know! Why would Gretchen shout that I was lesbian in the middle of their performance? How would she know unless somebody told her?" You ran your hands through your hair and turned away from her. "Maybe you wanted me to run back into your arms so you could pick up the broken pieces. The pieces you broke."

"I did not tell Gretchen. I don't know why she did that and I don't know why I expected a fucking Britney Spears song to change anything, but I fucking tried!" She took a step back, pausing for a moment. "I don't want to shout. Let's not shout."

"I- are you fucking kidding me? Are you actually fucking kidding? Things didn't go your way, I didn't respond like you wanted, and you don't want to shout. You don't control me, Regina, I have my own life, my own things, I don't need you!"

You inhaled the cold air until it burned in your lungs.

"Okay. Feel better now?"

You felt the blood rush to your head, painting you red and exploding out in a shout.

"Shut up! No! No, I don't feel better. I would've felt better if you ever fucking listened to me or talked to me. It doesn't even matter what happened back then, because, yeah, it hurt, but we were kids. I know why you did what you did and no, it wasn't right, but I get it. Now, though?" Your chest bubbled with hysterical laughter. "We're nearly adults, Regina. Why- why..." Why couldn't you treat me better? That, just less pathetic. "Why did you have to be such a bitch?"

"I get it, okay. You don't have to forgive me. We can just move on." Her voice trembled, from the cold and something else.

You clenched your fists so hard your hands shook, squeezed your eyes shut so tight you felt the tension in your forehead, and so badly wanted to throw a tantrum on the ground like a toddler. Your hands found your hair and tugged.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Your voice was beginning to sound more and more like a wail. "I want to move on, I've had enough of feeling like this but I don't- I love you but what am I supposed to do with that? I should- should just hate you- I don't know what to think."

You pulled, tugged, and felt some rip out of your scalp. The world was spinning around you, leaving you behind in the impossible pressure of space. Your skull was full to bursting, bees buzzing between your ears.

"Who was it?" You hiccuped and resented the hot tears painting streaks on your cheeks. "Why would they do that to me?" You were angry but so, so tired.

"Hey, J, stop that." Regina pulled at your hands, still knotted in your hair. You let her move you, all tuckered out from shouting. Your body shook.

"I'm tired... I wanna go home." Your eyes closed. Regina was still touching you. She had you by your forearms.

"Okay. I'll drive you." She whispered. You couldn't look at her. Shame was crawling down your spine, settling deeper with every passing second.

"With what? Didn't Mrs George drive you?" You slumped against the back of the bleachers. Regina followed, stayed close with her hands on your arms.

"I'll drive your car." She spoke softly. A part of you bristled, not standing to be patronized, but you didn't have the energy anymore.

For a moment, not a word was said. With tentative movements, Regina's hands trailed from your arms to your torso, slipping into your coat and around your back. Her head came to rest on your shoulder as she held you close. Your skin crawled at the contact, but reluctantly, as if your body was used to her, you sunk into her.

Your arms hung limply at your sides.

"Notice me," Your eyes fluttered open when she uttered the melody. "Take my hand,"

Her hands petted at your back, scratching lightly with her long nails.

"Why are we, strangers when, our love is strong?"

In the darkness of a wintery night, breath-creating wisps in the air, she sang and held you. It was impossible to ignore the poetic setting, the sappiness of the moment. Even so, you could appreciate it. A little.

"Why carry on without me?"

It was nowhere as good as she'd been on stage. The acoustics outside in the snow, below the bleachers were even worse than in the gym. But it was just for you, this time around.

You tried to hold your breath, tried to keep it in. Not now, not here. Not for her. Again.

"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," She lifted her head and you looked at her. She paused there. "You're the wings." With a little smile, she continued singing. All the while looking at you.

Your head felt too big, like somebody had blown it full of air. You'd float away if she wasn't holding you down.

"I feel so small. I guess I need you, baby," The backs of your eyes heated up, the tear ducts stinging, and you bowed your head. Your arms came around her and wound tight around her neck.

"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face. It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby,"

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed, interrupting her song, and wept into her collar. You missed her. You wanted to be with her so badly. You didn't want any of this to happen. You wanted things to be easy. Why did this have to be so hard? This was all unfair.

You cried at the injustice, cried for the hurt she'd made you feel, for the pain you'd made her feel and the names you'd called her. You wept because there was little else you could do.

"I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to do." You tried to breathe in, but your breath kept wooshing out of you. Every single orifice in your face flowed with fluid and you felt thoroughly disgusting. You couldn't stop it.

"We'll figure it out." Regina's voice was soft and her face even softer through your blurry vision. All hazy, gentle shapes.

"I'm- I'm scared." You whimpered, holding onto her shoulders.

"I know." Her arms tightened, holding secure around your waist. "I know, baby, it's gonna be okay."

"I'm still angry with- with you."

"That's okay."

"I dunno if we can... Y'know."

"I don't care. I just want you."

"Woah," You laughed, still sounding a tad bit hysterical. "Deep."

"Shut up." You could tell from her voice that she was rolling her eyes. "I preferred it when you were shouting at me."

Your laughter mixed with a hiccup.

"I don't believe that." Your voice wobbled since you still weren't quite done crying, apparently. Mortifying.

"You shouldn't." She amended, burrowing deeper into your coat.

With her hands rubbing your back, your fronts pressed so close together, you calmed down pretty fast. Your eyes stung and your nose was blocked. You felt dried out, like all moisture had been sucked out of you.

You knew this already. Every time, you'd go back. Every time, she'd wriggle under your skin and find solace in your heart and you couldn't even resist. Not really, anyhow, not effectively.

You wanted to believe she'd be there to stay, this time around.

"Can we go soon?" She asked, noticing your weeping had mostly concluded.

"Ugh," You groaned, head falling to rest on hers. "You think the crowd's been let out yet?"

"No, there's a sock puppet play that lasts ages. I think it was Hamlet or something."

"Sock puppet Hamlet? Reg, I think we need to go back in."

"No, nope, not if I have your keys!" She felt around in your back pockets. You did usually keep them there, but they'd been digging into your ass when you were sitting in the gym. They were in your coat pockets instead.

"Woah, take me to dinner first, jeez," Just like that, her hands detached like your butt was stove-hot.

"Sorry," She muttered. The mood shifted, the lighthearted and familiar air turning awkward.

"It's all good." Was it? It didn't feel weird, there was nothing sexual about what she'd done, but you weren't sure how you could say that. You yourself weren't sure what your boundaries were. You weren't even sure if you wanted to be vulnerable like that now.

She looked up at you with a contemplative look on her face. You looked back, waiting for her to ask something. When she didn't you shrugged.

"Let's go to yours." She said and then waited for you to... Do something again. You nodded. "I'll order, uh... What do you feel like eating?"

"I can cook-"

"I want take out, Jorts, so we're getting take out, 'kay?"

You tried not to smile at that.

"Whatever you say." You patted her on the back. She hummed, satisfied.

"Let's do Chinese. Sound good?" You nodded along, eyes closing. "We sleep. In the morning, we'll go for a walk. We'll talk about serious stuff during or after the walk?"

"Do we gotta go for a walk?" You asked petulantly.

"Yes." She said and did not elaborate.

"Fine, I guess."

Notes: A confrontation! At last! I couldn't keep the readers hanging for long, that would've just been cruel. I do have a nasty tendency to finish chapters with cliffhangers. Am I the drama? Noooo...

Btw, being transparent here, I named this fic "yard work" back when I was still thinking it was gonna be a one-shot, so (at least IMO) it doesn't really fit the series as a whole at this point. If I were to change it to, let's say, "everytime" would that be confusing or what? If the change were to happen it'd only be after this was completed, so no worries there. Just let me know y'all's thoughts!

Taglist will be posted separately! If you wish to be added on there, comment on that post :)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #regina george #wlw

393 notes · View notes

blue-blue-blooms · 7 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

A/N: I'm super depressed and this is my only form of comfort these days. So, here you go! If you have any requests, send them my way! Let's make the most of my depression and write these fics.

You're Steve's younger sister and in your senior year. You've definitely ridden on Steve's coat tails and gained popularity for being a Harrington. You're top of your class, a cheerleader, and friends with the 'popular kids'.

Admittedly, you were a bit self absorbed and consumed with the illusion of popularity. You didn't have real friends, no one that you could trust and be your true self around. You think getting dragged into finding Dustin's pet demogorgon was the best thing that could've happened to you. Besides the obvious trauma of everything that happened in '85, you found real friendship.

Robin and you became attached at the hip. You regularly hung out with Nancy. You were still popular but just severely humbled. '85 knocked your ego down a few pegs. You changed.

You changed so much that you didn't even ignore Mike, Dustin and Lucas when they first started highschool! I mean, even after you saw Dustin's Weird Al shirt. You looked out for all of them.

You'd known of Eddie. You'd seen him around at school. He was always really loud, abrasive, and kind of intimidating. He'd jump on top of lunch tables, going on spiels about 'forced conforming'. He was a little odd, a little rough around the corners, but you didn't know enough about him to form an opinion.

You officially met Eddie after Dustin, Mike, and Lucas joined the Hellfire club.

They were having one of their DnD meetings and needed a ride home. You were staying late for cheer practice so you agreed to drop them home.

You'd been waiting in the parking lot when they all came rushing out, 15 minute late.

"Hey, Dingus 1, 2, and 3! I've been waiting for 15 minutes!"

Eddie and everyone else in the Hellfire club (excluding the party) looked shocked when they saw you, to say the least.

"You know Y/N?" Eddie whispered to Dustin.

"Yeah, she's one of my best friends."

"You're friends with Y/N Harrington? Queen of Hawkins? Are you aware of the fact that we exist on the opposite spectrum of the stratosphere from her?" Gareth spoke incredulously, "Are you making this shit up?"

Before Dustin could respond, they all reached where Y/N was standing.

"Y/N! These are our friends from Hellfire! This is Gareth, this is Jeff, oh and this is Eddie! He's the president." Dustin excitedly spoke.

You gave them all a smile and a shy wave, "I've heard so much about you guys! These three were really excited when they found out about your DnD club."

"Do you play?" Gareth asked, immediately being smacked on the arm by Jeff who whispered: "I highly doubt that, idiot."

You smirked slyly and said: "Oh, I used to play with these guys all the time! We've been on many adventures. Fighting demogorgons, slaying a Mind Flayer, we've done it all." Of course, this wasn't a complete lie. You hadn't ever played a DnD game. Hell, you weren't even entirely sure what it was. But you had fought monsters with them. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas looked at you with incredulous looks and rolled their eyes, nodding along with your lie.

Of course, Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff didn't know the truth. They were pretty amazed that you even knew what DnD was.

After that first meeting, you'd smile and greet the Hellfire club whenever you saw them around school.

You'd also stand up for them if any of the jocks were messing with them.

Like the time Jason had shoved Gareth in the hallway and called him a 'freak', you'd immediately smacked the back of Jason's head and told him to 'fuck off'.

This is becoming more about the Hellfire club than Eddie so let's refocus.

You realized that you and Eddie were in some of the same classes. Now that you'd officially met him, you became more aware of him. Suddenly, he was everywhere.

The first time you'd chosen to sit down next to him in class, he'd choked on the water he was drinking.

"Are you okay?"

Y-yeah, just..water..wrong pipe. What're you doing here?"

"In this class?"

"Uh-no-like here, with me, in this seat?"

Oh, I'm sorry! Do you want me to move?"

No! Sorry, that came out wrong! I just-I wasn't expecting you to interact with us...you know the whole being 'freaks' thing...it might affect the way people see you."

"I don't care how people see me. Besides, I'm also a freak. Maybe just a...closeted freak."

Eddie swore that was when he fell in love with you.

Suddenly you were hanging out with each other all the time, sitting together in class, talking in the parking lot after school, giggling over random stuff in the hallway.

The more Eddie got to know you, the more he fell in love.

He'd find dumb reasons to touch you, passing random notes with doodles in class so he could briefly touch your hand, pretending like you had an eyelash on your cheek so he could take it off, ruffling your hair jokingly, putting his arm around your shoulder so he could whisper 'top secret DnD campaign stuff' (which was obviously just an excuse).

Your relationship developed and soon you'd be over at his place learning how to play his guitar, or going through his music collection, or forcing him to do his homework.

The first time you kissed was after Eddie accidentally confessed that he liked you. He heard that you were going out on a date with some random jock from school, and it was like all his nerves went into hyperdrive and the words spilled out. He thought that you'd never talk to him again, that he'd ruined everything, but you'd simply smiled and kissed him gently.

"I like you, too."

Bonus content: Dustin cries after you two get together. Happy cries, though. Mike gags any time he sees you two even remotely close to each other, even when you're not touching.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #fluff #Harrington reader #steve harrington #eddie munson headcanons #pure fluff #hellfire club #corroded coffin #eddie munson st fic #eddie stranger things

317 notes · View notes

kennahjune · 11 months ago

Text

Trauma bond? No. Bro bond.

Was having Steve and Lucas bro bond thoughts that accidentally turned into Steve whump.

…

Steve and Lucas bonding over sports more than anyone realized they ever would.

Like yeah, everyone knew Steve played basketball and was on the swim team in high school; that was practically his entire personality for a bit. But they never realized how much he actually /liked/ the sports.

Until he was geeking out with Lucas over a new play they’d thought of.

It was odd for them all to see Steve so excited. They watched on from their seats on the front porch steps. Eddie and Jonathan each had a beer, the both of them sharing a blunt with Argyle. Nancy and Robin sat on the steps below them, watching on while Steve and Lucas payed them no mind from the driveway.

It was almost comical— how the moment Lucas showed up on his bike Steve was up in an instant. After confirming it was indeed not a code red, Steve was quick to join Lucas. Especially after being told it was basketball related.

Steve had kicked his own beer over in his haste to get up.

Now Steve and Lucas were in the driveway, the garage door down (to prevent damage to the cars) and the Harrington’s basketball hoop out. Both were blissfully unaware of the eyes following them. Well, the eyes following /Steve/, it was more like.

Circling back the earlier thought; they’d never seen him to engaging in something. So excited. So…happy.

Which was really sad to think about.

“I’ve never seen him so excited over something,” Nancy said, speaking everyone’s thoughts.

Well. Except Argyle’s, it seems. “Nah, man. He gets like this anytime he starts talking about sports. We were watching a soccer game on TV last night and he was like— totally freaking out! Waving his hands around and talking a mile a minute.”

He took a puff of the blunt and passed it to Eddie, unaware of how he just tilted everyone’s worlds.

“Wait—“ Eddie took a drag and his voice was strained while he kept in the smoke “—he actually talks to you about that shit?”

Argyle hummed and looked at Eddie oddly. Eddie blew the smoke out and held Argyle’s eye.

“Yeah dude. All the time. Might help that I played volleyball back in Cali but— really, I just like hearing him talk. And I think he likes talking. He talks a lot.”

Argyle was getting extra talkative now, his sentences becoming shorter and more frequent. That’s how you knew he was high enough to not care.

“He’s never really been that talkative,” mumbled Robin, a sudden kind of dread settling uncomfortably in her chest.

Argyle shrugged. “Maybe you don’t talk about what he likes to talk about. He likes talking about sports. And romance books. He reads a lot of romance books.”

Well isn’t that something, Eddie thought. Steve Harrington likes to read.

(It brought up a distant memory from high school, from Steve’s sophomore year and Eddie’s junior year. Back before “King Steve” meant “jackass”.

“Well well, looky here, fellas! King Steve is gracing us peasants with his presence.” Eddie called mockingly to the young man sitting at the table in the library.

Steve— only 15 at the time, not 16 for another couple of months— looked up from his book with furrowed brows and a pout on his pretty pink lips. A pout that 21 year old Eddie would come to love.

Steve hadn’t done to much in the interaction. He more or less sat in silence while Eddie went on and on about something he couldn’t remember now.

When Steve had gotten up from the table, he doggy-eared his page (like a monster) and tucked the book under his arm. Eddie saw the title only briefly, “Forever Amber”.)

“Do we really never talk about his interests?” asked Jonathan to the sky, his head tilted up while he blew the smoke away.

They all startled when a series of shouts and laughs came from Lucas and Steve in the driveway. Eddie looked over in time to watch Steve pull Lucas in for a hug where they both patted each others backs aggressively. Eddie’s seen the guys do that at games. Some kind of weird bro-hug.

Eddie continued to watch when Steve bent down to pick up the rolling basketball. Eddie’s mind went other places quick enough when Steve pulled his shorts up a little higher. Robin smacked his calf.

“Seriously, you guys never talk to him about sports?” Argyle asked, flabbergasted. And I suppose he had every right to be. These were some of Steve’s closest friends. His boyfriend and his best friend! And they never got to listen to Steve rant about a particular basketball game from high school? About some specific swimming stroke and how it helped him win swim competitions?

They were seriously missing out.

Robin hung her head in shame and thought about it, her eyes misting over the more she realized that— yeah, she never talked to Steve about sports. Let alone his other interests. (Did he have other interests? That fact that she had to ask this question made her want to cry and hug Steve.)

Robin picked her head up and propped it in her hands. She looked on with everyone else as Steve and Lucas cheered about something or other.

Steve tossed Lucas the ball in the driveway. He bent himself at the knees and placed his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily.

“Alright, Sinclair. Hit me.” he smirked.

He and Lucas had been tossing the ball back and forth for close to an hour now, both excited to get this play right. Lucas dribbled the ball three times on the ground quickly before he set into motion.

Steve cut him off to the left, but Lucas swerved to the right so fast he nearly toppled himself over. Steve turned and jumped in front of him just in time to body slam him slightly. Not nearly as rough as he could’ve been, holding back because they were outside on concrete and Steve wasn’t going to be responsible for a concussion.

The ball rolled away into the grass, unnoticed while Steve gave Lucas a hand and pulled him up.

Lucas was taking heaving breaths, and for a scary moment Steve was worried he’d slammed him too hard and knocked his lungs around. It’s possible. That’s why Steve himself had an inhaler in the drawer closest to his bed.

But then Lucas was laughing, and soon Steve was to.

“Dude! How’d you do that? I’ve never seen anyone move like that man!” Lucas praised over his heavy breathing. Steve chuckled and took his own deep breaths.

He clapped Lucas on the shoulder, grabbed the ball, and steered him towards the porch. “Plant your feet next time.” He felt a ping of anger and sadness at the words, but tramped it down.

It was only when he’d reached the porch with Lucas that Steve realized they were alone outside. Had everyone gone inside? Did sports seriously bore them so much that they just up and left? The thought made something bitter churn in Steve’s gut.

Whatever.

He led Lucas through the door and dropped the basketball on the porch by the door. It was muddy and his floors were going to remain white for as long as possible thank you very much.

They both left their shoes by the door and traveled to the kitchen, Lucas talking about how fast he’d ducked and wanting to know what Steve meant by planting his feet. Steve agreed to another playing session the next day with a grin. It was nice to have someone who enjoyed what he did.

He tossed Lucas a bottle of water from the fridge and made sure the kid drank it all. They sat with each other at the counter for a minute, Steve idly sipping his water and listening to Lucas’ still heavy breaths.

“Damn, I still can’t catch my breath man.” Lucas laughed lightly.

Steve smiled and set his water down.

“Wait here, don’t do anything stupid.”

Lucas gave him a two finger salute as he walked off upstairs. Steve was sure to avoid the living room and was quick to grab the aforementioned inhaler from his drawer. He jogged back into the kitchen and sat next to Lucas one more.

“Ok, so I’m assuming you know what an inhaler is.”

Lucas nodded, staring at the inhaler in Steve’s hand oddly.

“I don’t have asthma,” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

Steve chuckled. “And neither do I. But there are times where you get knocked around too much or too hard, and it can rattle your lungs. I found that out the hard way when I was 14 and had my first asthma attack. My lungs had rattled so much they got trapped between my ribs and my mom had to take me to the hospital.”

Lucas winced. “Seriously? How the hell did you manage that?”

My dad got a little too rough, Steve thought. But decided against saying that, obviously. He smiled and shook his head. “Not important.”

Steve uncapped the inhaler and gave it a good shake. “Ok, I’m assuming you know at least a little about using one of these but one things for sure, you’ve gotta fix your posture.”

Lucas immediately straightened his back.

Steve went on explaining about how curling into yourself like that basically compressed your lungs and made breathing harder.

He held the inhaler to Lucas’ mouth and instructed him to breathe in and hold it for as long as he felt he could before releasing slowly.

Lucas did as instructed, and after no more than two puffs Steve instructed him to simply keep his back straight and take deep breaths through his nose and to release slowly through his mouth.

Lucas left on his bike a few minutes later with a few snacks and an extra bottle of water in his bag. Steve told him to talk to his parents about getting him a medical inhaler if he planned to stick out basketball for all of high school. Steve knew how aggressive those kids could be, and while it wasn’t always necessary it was helpful.

When he closed the door behind Lucas he went straight to the living room.

Where apparently everyone had relocated.

“Uh.. hey?” Steve waved pathetically. He had really no idea what to do with the 5 pairs of eyes on him.

“Ok? Um— seriously why are you all looking at me like that? It’s fucking freaky.” Steve curled in on himself a little, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders.

Robin was the first to shoot out of her seat on the couch. Steve was given no warning before he was engulfed in a hug.

“Oh? Ok—“ He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “What happened, Robs? You alright?” he asked from where his face was tucked into her neck.

She nodded, but it was obvious something was wrong.

When Robin let go she dragged Steve by the wrist to the couch and sat with him. He looked at everyone else settled in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t like— an intervention or something, right?” he tried to joke. Argyle seemed to find it funny at least. Steve smiled at him where he sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Then there was an arm wrapping around his waist from the side Robin wasn’t pressed against and Steve wasted no time leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What’s up with you guys, huh? You’re quiet and it’s scary. I don’t like it.” Steve muttered the last part under his breath and more to himself. But Eddie squeezed his hip reassuringly.

“Nothing’s up, baby. How was everything with Lucas?” Eddie asked. Steve barely gave himself time to pause before he answered, “Good. He’s been moving a lot faster lately.”

He bit his tongue against the slew of words he wanted to spill about everything they’d done in that hour they’d been outside. Instead he said,

“Sorry. Totally ditched you guys for the ball.” He chuckled, trying to take the weight of the words off some. Eddie tutted.

“Don’t apologize, Steve. You looked like you having fun.” Came Nancy’s unexpected reply. Steve’s head shot up to look at her before traveling back to Argyle, who gave him a vague “go on” gesture with his hand.

“Uh..” He pulled his eyes back to Nancy. “Yeah, had a lot of fun. Um— you guys alright?”

Jonathan groaned and Steve watched Nancy hit him on the arm. They had a whole argument with their eyes before Nancy deflated. What the hell?

“Steve.” Jonathan started. Steve flinched slightly and didn’t relax when Eddie squeezed his hip.

He braced himself for the laughs, the jeers. Them telling him they didn’t care that he had fun and that they had to go.

“We’re sorry.”

Steve blinked. You’d think an apology that sounded so heartfelt would lower his inner walls a bit, but it only served to raise them higher. Because—

“What the fuck? Why?”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head and let Nancy take the lead this time.

“For brushing you off.”

Steve blinked, his inner walls no longer rising but not lowering either.

“For not showing that we cared whenever you started talking about your sports and things.” Was Robin’s add-on from beside him.

Steve flinched and made to get up but remembered he was kind of held down by both Robin and Eddie.

“So this is an intervention? Guys it’s fine, seriously—“

“No. It’s not. Stop talking for a second and let us be sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie’s grip tightened again and Steve tried to find comfort in it like he normally did, but he was so uncomfortable right now it was unbelievable.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been apologized to. Not like this. Not with such sincerity.

It scared him, honestly.

“We’re sorry we didn’t bother trying to show interest in anything you did even though you always made sure to show interest in ours,” was how Eddie finished.

“Even with all the teasing you add in.” Chuckled Jonathan.

Steve found a bit of the comfort he was searching for.

He cleared his throat. “Um ok— so—“

“Not done.” Demanded Nancy.

Steve shut up.

“We’re sorry that we made fun of your interests and maybe made you feel like you couldn’t share your thoughts and feelings with us in fear of getting ridiculed.”

And good God if that wasn’t right on the money.

Steve swallowed against the tears that threatened to mist over his vision.

He laughed quietly instead. And maybe he looked like he was going insane but Jesus Christ— he couldn’t take this right now. He was not expecting a fucking apology after an hour of playing basketball.

What the fuck has his life turned into?

“Ok— done now?” he asked. And when nobody spoke up against him he continued.

“So um— thanks? For the apology? I guess— I guess I just don’t understand. Why are you guys apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong?”

That got him a chorus of groans that made him curl into himself more. He hung his head and pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer, a nervous habit he’d developed in middle school.

“Steve.” Robin gently said. “We have every reason to apologize and fucking grovel.”

Steve wasn’t given a single moment to protest.

“Sweetheart, what did you do yesterday when I was talking about my campaign?”

Steve looked at Eddie funny. “Dude I don’t know— I think you started talking about it while I was cooking?”

Eddie nodded. “And then you told me to hold on while you put the lasagna in the oven so you could give me your full attention.”

Steve blinked dumbly, not quite getting it.

“That’s the bare minimum, Ed. You were talking about something you really liked so I made sure you knew I was listening.”

And oh wow. It just dawned on him.

“Exactly, honey. None of us— except Argyle, apparently— have been giving you the attention you deserve even though you give us yours no matter what.”

“Steve you listened to me drone about types of cameras and film last week for three hours and didn’t complain once. I know for a fact that shit was boring to listen to because I’ve been told so by both Will and El numerous times.”

Steve stared at Jonathan.

“Ok, sure. But I don’t see— I don’t get— I don’t care that you guys don’t listen to me. Sports are complicated and yeah sure it kind of hurts when you scoff as if it doesn’t mean shit—“

Eddie’s grip tightened considerably.

“—but it— I get it. You guys aren’t obligated to listen to my shit. I listen to you guys because I want to. Because I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like Nancy and that new article for the school paper about the different recipe for the meatloaf that makes it taste like dirt, apparently. Or how Polaroid cameras actually date all the way back to like— 1948. Or—“

“But that’s the thing, Steve.” Nancy cut him off. “You listen to these things and remember them because you want to. Because you’re a good friend and good friends listen. We—“ he waved her hand around to all of them “—have not been good friends.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat while Nancy continued.

“The fact that you remember my exact words of calling the meatloaf dirt just proves that. Because we had that conversation, what? A month ago?”

“Three weeks ago.” Me mumbled uselessly.

Nancy sighed.

Robin sat up and took Steve’s face in her hands. “Stevie. We love you. So let us.”

And just like that, Steve was engulfed in a giant group hug.

He didn’t realize how much it’d affected him before now. How being scoffed at and made fun of— even if it was playful— hurt him so much that he’d just stopped talking about things.

When they pulled away Eddie kissed his forehead and Robin kissed his cheek. Steve giggled at the sudden affection.

…

Bonus:

The very next day, Steve saw the change.

Saw the change in how Eddie made sure to ask him about what he was cooking and then let Steve explain the process of a breakfast casserole. How Eddie simply smiled and even engaged with questions as if he was really interested. And maybe Steve didn’t completely believe he was interested, but that was ok. He’d come to his senses eventually.

Then at work Robin made a point to let him choose what they put on the TV for the day and didn’t even complain when he chose the Breakfast Club.

He was scared that they change would last no more than a week. That after some time they’d all go right back to how it was before.

But then a week passed. And two. And three. And then months we’re going by where Steve was allowed to rant and talk and argue about things like cooking and baking and basketball and soccer and volleyball and so much more because they would listen.

And then a year passed and it was April and it was his birthday and when he was surrounded by everyone— the kids, the older teens, even the adults— he opened a present and looked down at the book in his lap.

“Forever Amber”.

Steve will never admit to the tears that he cried that day.

…

Probably gonna do something like this with Lucas and the kids cause I love Lucas ❤️

Here’s that lol:

816 notes · View notes

erenthology · 1 year ago

Note

eren spraying his cologne on your coat before you leave for work cus he's possessive like that

whoever sent this, you’re my soulmate. I added a small drabble btw <3 also, rando dave is back

Possessive!Eren who doesn’t laugh when you yell him the “funny” story about how Dave spilled coffee all over himself during the todays meeting..

Possessive!Eren who tries to compete by telling you all the funny jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and acting like a clown for you to laugh

Possessive!Eren who wants to keep all your smiles to himself, who hyper fixates on your hobbies to be able to send you memes and anything you ask for. You should be able to rely on him for anything.

Possessive!Eren who shows up at your work to bring you lunch, but it’s actually to show everyone that you’re taken.

Possessive!Eren who gets mad when you tell him about your co worker who’s broke up with her boyfriend, casually conversing that breakup rates have increased significantly and that couples usually end it within the first 5 years. The very idea makes his eyes flash red for just a second. “Not ours, you can count on that.”

Possessive!Eren who gets worried when you’re late from work. (Mind you it can be anything from an hours to 15 minutes) and starts freaking out. After receiving a text that you’re struck in traffic, he hangs up the call to your office and patently waits for you to arrive home.

Possessive!Eren who’s eyes flash murder when you come home crying after work. He coddles you for the rest of the night and tries to convince you to quit.

Possessive!Eren who has a special folder made for times you’re not at home. He follows the routine of opening your drawer and picking out one of the thin materials you like to call underwear

Possessive!Eren who randomly sends you texts in the middle of the day, “hurry home so I can eat your pussy, I’m hungry”

Possessive!Eren who gets worried when he’s not around you because as long as he’s there, people would know you’re his. He makes sure of it.

Possessive!Eren who always asks you to take time off for a vacation. you sigh, “what would we even do?” He grabs you by your chin, “bike rides, I’ll take you to the beach and feed you, movie nights, I’ll eat you out, fuck you silly, you know, that type of stuff.”

Possessive!Eren is the most demanding man you have ever met. He barks orders like a drill sergeant but never at you, never. His only demand is that you stay close to him so he can keep his eyes on you.

Drabble<3

“Eren, are you listening to me?” No, he wasn’t. You’re wearing an exceptionally pretty outfit today, and he’s overcome with the irrational urge to lock you in the bedroom and keep you for himself only. He swallows and responds, “yh, what’s up?”

You roll your eyes, “I asked if this looks good?” you give him a twirl to showcase your outfit. “I’ve got a meeting with dave first thing and I want to make a good impression. you know how judgeful they can be” you sigh.

At this, his ears perk up, dave? “Who the fuck is dave?” he puts his coffee mug down and shifts his entire attention to you.

Deadpanning, you explain to Eren. “my coworker dave…the one presenting the project we’ve been working on.”

Eren doesn’t pay much attention to what you’re saying. He only remembers one part and makes a beeline for it. “What was that about impressing him?”

“well, obviously I need to make good impressions in the office.”

He’s been staring at you for a while now without saying anything. He looks lost in his thoughts today, you think.

It was hard enough with the outfit itself, he thinks. And now you’re talking about this ugly dave dude? Eren takes his time to calm himself and avoid a fight. “You should wear a jacket with that”, he suggested and goes to get his jacket.

The pieces connect in your mind, “Eren, are you acting jealous again?” you yell for him to hear as he rushes to the hall. He comes back with your fall coat in his hand.

“Hey, I’m not the jealous type.(🙄) But what’s mine is mine.” he says and opens the coat for you to put your arms in. You’re immediately surrounded by the fresh scent of his spicy cologne. His significant smell. The aromatic smell fills your nostrils and overwhelms your senses.

You turn to face him and gets granted with with a wink accompanied by sly smile. “Yh, much better.” he says, more to himself than you. You’ve never felt so protected before you met Eren, even if it isn’t always rational, his primal instincts to keep you to himself makes you feel special.

“Let me know if anyone gives you trouble, alright?” You nod your head, standing somewhat dumbfounded. His heart aches at how adorable you look, increasing his illogical demand to ask you to stay and home and quit your job. He wants to provide for you and keep you all for himself, he’s selfish like that. Instead, he grabs grabs shoulders and begins walking you out the door with an arm around you. He always said you looked extra good around his arm.

“Give me a kiss” he requests, craving your attention like the man-child he is. So you pucker your lips and and give him a chaste kiss. As you pull away, he pulls you back with one hand on your waist and the other cradling through your hair, kissing the hell out of you.

You’re left breathless as he draws back, then goes in for yet another peck before taking your hand and walking you to your car. He’s previously insisted and borderline forced to drive you, but is now comprising, which is rare for Eren.

As you drive to work, surrounded by the smell of your boyfriends cologne, he head back to the kitchen where his phone is and starts stalking the shit out of your companies instagram for the “first”time

He just wants to be aware, nothing wrong with it, he thinks as he then opens a certain album your pictures and videos he’d rather die than let anyone beside the two of you see, it’s his holy shrine.

“Fuck..” he breathes and rubs one out to the sounds of your moans with his face buried in your pillow. He can’t wait for you to get home again.

#just in the clouds for eren #asks #Eren’s girl #my works #eren smut #attack on titan eren #eren #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader

1K notes · View notes

3minsover · 1 year ago

Text

another modern steddie au

Eddie gets invited to prom.

Eddie, the freak.

Gets invited by the captain of the basketball team, Jason.

And Eddie’s over the fucking moon, because he never thought he’d get a date to prom, let alone such a hot, popular one.

Sure, it’d taken a little convincing at first, because duh. Town pariah, cutest boy in school - it’s not an obvious match. But Jason seems sincere.

There’d been a time Eddie thought maybe he’d go to prom with Steve - back when they were in the same class last year - but of course Steve never asked, and Eddie didn’t have the stones to do it himself. Always had to go for the popular guy, the unattainable one, did Eddie.

Once Steve graduated, Eddie had been surprised to actually strike up a friendship with Steve on his trips to the local coffee-shop-vintage-vinyl-store hybrid where Steve now worked. He’d even asked Steve, only a couple days before Jason casually leant against Eddie’s locker and popped the question - his excitement and shock had made him blind to the group of jocks loitering with smirk-stained mouths just down the hall - if he’d consider accompanying him to prom just so he didn’t have to go alone. Just as friends though, obviously (except that Eddie would have combusted on the spot if it wasn’t just as friends).

Steve’s rejection of the invite had come swift, though not harshly, and not for any reason other than that he had tickets to see the Hoosiers play the Wolverines at the Assembly Hall that night. Eddie spluttered out reassurance that-

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about little old me! Hey, I’ll have Rob and Nance there, huh, even if they’re going together. I’ll crash their date.” But the enthusiasm fell out of his voice as he spoke.

Steve had been surprised, but supportive, when Eddie broke the news about Jason. he’d not said anything for a long moment, but then his face split into a smile that seemed too big for his face, and he offered Eddie a high five.

And so the afternoon of prom comes.

Jason’s going to pick Eddie up at 7, and for the whole day, Eddie’s been all jitters. He showers, shaves, fusses with his hair, his tux (borrowed from Wayne), his rings and chains, and at 6:45, Eddie sits down opposite Wayne at the dining table.

And he waits.

And waits.

7pm comes, and then 7:15. 7:30.

“He probably just got caught up,” Eddie justifies, if only to break the thick silence hanging over the kitchen.

“I’m sure, kid.” Wayne’s voice is sincere, but it does nothing to ease the swirling of Eddie’s stomach. 8 o’clock crawls nearer, and Eddie’s still sitting at his kitchen table, elbows itching where he’s had his arms folded on the table in front of him for so long. Wayne excuses himself, comes back a couple minutes later, and Eddie hasn’t moved.

Acceptance tastes bitter in Eddie’s mouth.

“He’s not coming, is he.” Eddie doesn’t need to phrase it as a question. Of course Jason’s not coming. Why would he? Eddie feels so fucking stupid. For a moment there, he really thought.

“No, son. I… I don’t think he is.”

“I’m gonna go change,” Eddie announces, failing to keep the wetness out of his voice. He stands, the chair legs scraping overloud against the kitchen floor, and stalks towards his bedroom. He’s tugging at his tie and blinking away stinging tears when four sharp knocks come from the front door. Eddie’s nearest, and his heartbeat rockets. he races over, yanks at the handle flinging it open to find-

Steve.

Steve Harrington is standing on his front porch, fidgeting with his tie. Because he’s wearing a tie. And a suit. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a little damp still, and he’s holding a single yellow dandelion between pinched fingers. He looks so fucking handsome Eddie could cry. Or kiss him. Or kiss him and then cry.

But Steve’s at the Hoosiers game. Or-

“Steve…? I don’t…”

“Wayne called me.” Steve dips his chin self-consciously, looking up through thick lashes.

“And you- But you’re- The game?” Eddie blinks furiously, blindsided by the sight of Steve Harrington in a tux offering him a flower for his goddamn buttonhole.

“There’ll be other games. I’m only gonna get one more chance to take you to prom.”

“One… more?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “I missed it the first time. Almost missed it this time too.”

“But you didn’t.” Eddie takes a half step forward, allowing Steve to slip his fingers under the lapel of his jacket and push the stem of the dandelion through the little stitched opening. He inhales a little gasp at the heady scent of Steve’s cologne so close all of a sudden. Their eyes meet, and everything else softens around them, fading only to shades of violet and blue in the dark. Eddie can see the bob of Steve’s throat as he swallows, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the rich hazel of Steve’s own to focus on it.

Eddie knows he’s smiling like a fool.

“I’m glad you could make it, son.” Wayne’s voice pops the moment like a dishsoap bubble, soft in the way that fall leaves are. Steve looks up and over Eddie’s shoulder, nodding bashfully.

“I’m glad you called.”

“Me too, Wayne. Thank you. No, really. Though I’m not sure I entirely love the fact that my uncle can get me a date better than I can.” The three of them laugh, the sound rising smoky into the night.

“You two have fun - but not too much, y’know.” Wayne’s mouth is set firm but there’s a recognizable spark in his eyes that Eddie is so glad they share.

“I’ll have him home by midnight, sir.” Steve plays the ‘respectful, demure date’ role so well.

“Don’t I get a say in that?” Eddie exclaims, whipping his head to look between the two of them. “Alright, take me to the dance, Harrington.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

In the end, they don’t make it to prom. Instead Steve drives them out to the overlook at Lover’s Lake, just the two of them, and they talk until the twinkle of stars is replaced by the first peachy hints of day. And Eddie thinks maybe prom is overrated, after all.

#steddie #steddie au #fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #3minsover #twitter crosspost

466 notes · View notes

diaper-your-brat · 4 months ago

Text

15 - Is your girlfriend capable of wiping herself?

Even if she's the most sophisticated and independent woman - I wouldn't be so sure if you can trust her to clean herself up properly.

Neither was Matthew, when he moved in with his girlfriend Andrea. See, Matthew was a bit of a neat freak, so it was a no-brainer that he would be the one taking care of their weekly laundry. It didn't take long for him to discover wet or dirty spots on her thongs and panties. He quickly set into motion a very effective plan:

The first two times, he just confronted her about it. "I found a dirty spot in your panties again. Aren't you 26 years old?" She was obviously embarrassed but didn't say much and just laughed it off.

When he brought it up for the third time within a month, he took a more serious approach. During dinner, he mentioned "Andrea, I'm honestly getting a bit annoyed be having to deal with your messy underwear. You have to be more careful. If I have to clean one more piece of underwear this dirty, there will be consequences" "I don't know what you're talking about! I always take good care cleaning myself, this is so awkward", she whined,. But of course, just a few days later, Matthew mentioned that he had found another thong with a brown stain on the back in the laundry bin. "Look, I know your trying youre best baby, but it seems like you're not wiping carefully enough. From now on, I'll take more care of this for you." "What the fuck does he mean?" she thought, but the topic was so uncomfortable for her, that she didn't say much and just went about her day. Matthew was now keeping a close eye on her. When she went to the bathroom the next time, he positioned himself outside the door. Once she came out, he was standing there and ushered her right back in.

"It's time that I inspect you, baby girl. Let's see how good you really are at wiping yourself." He sounded upbeat and positive, as if he was talking to a toddler. Andrea stood there and shrieked as he pulled down her pants. But it happened so fast that she couldn't do anything.

He took a close look at her private parts, he grabbed a wet wipe to clean her, and inspected it carefully. He had a stern look on his face, and let's be real: no matter how well she wiped, he would have never been satisfied.

He was clear and strict about the consequences: from now on, every time she went to the bathroom, she would have to call him afterwards, like a little girl. He would then either wipe her, or she could do it herself, and he'd inspect the quality of her wiping.

Andrea knew that this wasn't right: but she was also eager to drop this uncomfortable topic. "I don't know why you never learned how to properly clean yourself after going to the bathroom. But now I'll take care of it for you. It's better that way. Think about what your friends and colleagues would say when you'd walk around with a dirty bottom!" "What if it's true?", she started to think.

From that day onwards, they'd have an embarrassing ritual: Andrea had to yell from the bathroom whenever she was done, and he would wipe and inspect her with great care. Sometimes, he'd probe her pussy or asshole with his fingers, before letting her go about her day. "Just to make sure everything is alright down there", he would say. Of course Andrea hated having her boyfriend's finger up her tight butthole. But she couldn't say much, while she was in such an unfortunate position.

As the weeks passed, Matthew would get stricter about the timings of his checks. "I can't check on you all day, I have stuff to do", he would say. So instead of calling him afterwards, she had to ask for permission before going to the bathroom. And he would be increasingly restrictive. At some point, she had to wait for an hour before he finally let her relieve herself - he just had to finish an important work email before! This lead to more and more humiliating situations for Andrea: desperately begging him to go to the bathroom because of her full bladder. Near misses, and some dribbles in her panties. And more and more critical comments from Matthew: "At first, I thought you were just a lazy wiper! But by now, I'm starting to doubt you're ready to go to the toilet at all... Who would have thought that you'd be such a messy girl, Andrea!"

It was becoming more and more clear: supervised toilet times were only the beginning of her training...

(This story is inspired by another classic: "Taking care of her bottom" by @crueldaddy4baby )

#diaperyourbrat #diaper discipline #diaper stories #forcedregression

119 notes · View notes

w2soneshots · 9 months ago

Text

Labour -W2S

words: 1.6k+

warnings: pregnancy, birth.

summary: you and Harry finally meet your baby girl.

notes: I’ve never had a baby so I apologise if this isn’t accurate!! Also this was a request on wattpad. Hope you enjoy🫶🏼🧸

Liked by wroetoshaw and 1,467,098 others

y/username: not long now🫣🤍 @wrotoshaw @freyanightingale

-comments-

faithloisak: ❤️❤️😭

taliamar: you're so cute

y/nfanpage21: the bump!🥺

user31479682: still can't believe w2s is gonna be a dad

I met Harry in primary school. I always thought he was a little weird but just as high school finished I fell head over heels in love with that weird boy. That was 12 years old. We got married two years ago, it was a small wedding in Guernsey with only our closest friends and family. Just under a year ago we decided we wanted a kid, 4 months later I found out I was 8 weeks pregnant. I waited an entire week to tell Harry just so I could tell him with a little bag containing a mini version of his charity match jersey inside (that I'd had specially made). Then we told the boys, Faith, Freya and Talia at a special dinner that we arranged just so we could tell them all together. They were extremely excited, especially Ethan and Faith because there would now be another set of parents in the group.

We found out we were having a little girl when I was 21 weeks. That was also around the time I felt the baby kick for the first time, me and Harry sat in our bed absolutely freaking out about it. After we knew it was a girl I could finally start buying an unholy amount of baby clothes, teddies and things for the nursery. Me and Faith have become considerably closer, since we now have things to talk about, she's really been a great help when it came to little worries I had or if I just needed someone to rant to about back pain.

I'm currently 38 weeks. The hospital bags are packed and the nursery is completely ready. I am seriously getting bored of being pregnant and would really like to just meet my baby. Harry ran me a warm bath so I could relax. Then I dried myself, put on my current favourite pyjamas and slid into bed next to him. I struggled slightly getting to sleep since I was really uncomfortable. I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the feeling of wet between my legs. Confused, I pulled the covers back. My eyes met a large patch of clear ish liquid on the mattress, barely visible in the darkness of the room. My brows furrowed then my face dropped, mouth turning into an O shape. My water just broke. I took a deep breath then turned to gently shake Harry awake, he groaned. "Haz, wake up" I whispered gently. "What- what's up?!" He said the last part with a little bit of urgency after properly waking. "I think my water just broke." I stated calmly. His eyes widened "what!" He jumped off the bed.

"Calm down. It's fine the midwife said we have time, remember?" His face calmed slightly then he took in a shaky breath "are you ok?" He asked, coming over to my side of the bed. "I'm fine." I replied. He helped me off the soaked bed and to my feet. "This is really happening, we're really going this." He said with slight excitement in his eyes. "Yes we are. Now can you grab the hospital bag while I change?" He quickly nodded then ran towards the nursery where the bag resides.

I got changed into a comfy sweat set, brushed my hair and tied it back into a bun. When I emerged from the bedroom Harry was stood by the door rapidly texting on his phone. "Ready to go?" I asked. He looked up "yea," he nodded "I was just texting the boys." I giggled "Harry it's 5am!" I said with a light shake of my head. "I needed to tell someone!" He exclaimed. "We're any of them even awake?" I asked as he unlocked the front door. "Uh- no but they'll see it in a bit." I laughed.

Once we got in the car I text my mum telling her what was going on, then Harry speedily started the car. We were at the hospital just 15 minutes later. Harry helped me inside and we were quickly taken to a private room. "What time did your water break?" The nurse asked. "Around half four." I answered. "Ok... and have you had any contractions?" She questioned while scribbling on her clipboard. "Uh no, not yet." She looked up "alright then, I'll get my colleague to come and attach you to some machines so we can monitor you and baby." She said with a kind smile. I thanked her and she left the room.

Another nurse came in soon after and wrapped my stomach with some monitors, she did some other general checks on me. Once she left Harry came to sit next to me and held my hand. I smiled at him but my smile was quickly replaced with a look of discomfort as I felt a small but painful cramp wrap around the bottom of my stomach. "Woah, was that a contradiction?" Harry questioned a few seconds later, once it had subsided. I nodded "ye I think so." I replied. "Should I go get the nurse?" He asked. "No I'm fine." I answered. He nodded and kept his hand firmly in mine.

y/username just posted a new story!

Once it hit 8am I was having regular contractions that were lasting around 30 seconds each and were 7 minutes apart. The midwife came in and checked how dilated I was, 4 centimetres. Me and Harry sat on a FaceTime call with his mum, dad and Rosie, just a few minutes after we called my family. Then I got a call from Faith. "Hey! How's it going. How are you?!" She asked excitedly. "Hey, I'm okay." I said with a light smile. She returned the smile "I literally couldn't believe it when Ethan told me you were in labour this morning." She stated. Before I could say anything else I felt another contraction building. I quickly said goodbye and placed my phone next to me. I took a deep breath and squeezed Harry's hand. "You're doing so good, breathe." He said quietly. As the pain subsided I let out a heavy sigh. Harry squeezed my hand lightly "You're incredible." I looked to him and smiled "You're so cute."

After an excruciating amount of time I was finally at 9 centimetres. I stood with my arms wrapped around Harry's neck, swaying slightly and breathing heavily. "Not long now. You've got this. I love you. You're doing so good." Harry whispered in to my ears as I clung to him. He kept his hands firmly on my waist, helping me to stay up. "Ok y/n, It looks like you're ready to push!" My midwife said and I looked up to Harry with fear in my eyes. He helped me back onto the bed and cupped my face in his hands gently "you're gonna be fine, I'm here." He said with a comforting voice. To be honest I thought Harry was going to be an absolute mess when it came to me giving birth but I was pleasantly surprised on how strong he's been, for me.

I lay back on the bed, held up by a few pillows and Harry was quick to grab my hand, once again. With my legs propped up, my midwife sat on a chair in front of me. "On the next contraction push as hard as you can." she said through my legs. I nodded nervously and it wasn't long until I felt that now all familiar pain run from my stomach all the way round to my lower back. I squeezed Harry's hand so tight I thought I might break it as I pushed with all I had.

After almost 30 minutes of what felt like constant pushing I finally heard the loud cries of my baby. Tears immediately poured down my face and the last few hours completely left my brain. I looked over to Harry once they passed me my baby. I have only ever seen Harry cry once during the entire time I've known him, but there was tears falling down his face as he stared sweetly at me. "You did incredible. She's perfect. I love you so much." He choked out. I brought him towards me by fisting his shirt in my hand and pulling him so our lips connected.

Once Harry cut the babies umbilical cord, both me and baby were checked over and cleaned up and we informed our families and friends that we were both ok and that the baby was healthy, we sat admiring the sweet little baby peacefully sleeping in the plastic cot. "We need to name her." Harry said quietly. "Got any ideas?" I asked, realising I hadn't actually thought about the fact she'd need a name. "Uhm, I like the name Nova." He said. My eyes lit up slightly and I nodded "she looks like a Nova." More tears dropped from my eyes. Harry shuffled towards me "what's wrong? are you okay?" He asked softly. I laughed lightly "I'm fine. I just- love her so much." Harry giggled then pulled me into a warm hug "I love you." He said with a breathy laugh. I smiled into his chest "I love you too."

y/username

Liked by wroetoshaw and 4,023,611 others

y/username: my baby girl Nova Lewis🤍

-comments-

behzingagram: omg wow wow wow congratulations❤️❤️❤️❤️

ksi: congratulations🥳

faithloisak: OMG😭😭😭😭

y/nfanpage21: I can't cope🥹

user29473674: w2s is officially a dad woah

#fanfic #image #oneshot #sidemen #w2s #harry lewis #harry w2s #w2s imagine #w2s x reader #w2s fic #wrotoshaw #wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw x reader #harry lewis x reader #labour #instagram

274 notes · View notes

coolnameloading · 1 month ago

Text

Second place

Summary: Your relationship with Shauna is reaching a boiling point after months of feeling neglected. Will your anniversary dinner fix everything or is it time to move on?

You were Shauna Shipman’s girlfriend—well, you were supposed to be, but lately, you have felt more like her side piece.

When you first started dating she made it very clear that if Jackie needed her for anything she would be by her side no questions asked. And at first, you were fine with that.

You thought it was cute that your girlfriend was such a loyal friend so you told her it wasn’t a problem.

Oh, what a love-struck idiot you were.

At first, your relationship was great. You were like a couple pulled straight out of a 90’s movie. You’d wear her jersey to her games, your friends would roll their eyes at how sappy the two of you were, and old couples would see you walking down the street and give each other a knowing look remembering when they were your age.

Everything was absolutely perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You didn’t truly understand the position you put yourself in until about 10 months into your relationship.

Suddenly Jackie was having problems with her boyfriend Jeff, which meant that your weekly date nights became the stuff of history, and the only time you got to see your girlfriend was briefly at school before she was whisked away to soccer practice, or class, or Jackie.

And even when you did get to see her all she’d talk about was how hard Jeff was being on Jackie.

“He should be glad Jackie even gave him a chance, she could do so much better.”

She sighed leaning against your car.

“Yep”

You mumbled back only half listening to her while grabbing something from your trunk.

“I mean she’s pretty, popular, and the captain of the women’s soccer team.”

“Mhmm”

Suddenly your door slams shut, you look up and see she’s giving you an annoyed look.

“Are you even listening?”

You sigh and nod, “Sorry Shaun but all we’ve talked about for the last two months is Jackie’s love life.”

Shauna rolls her eyes but reaches for your hand, “Sorry baby but I get so upset with how Jeff treats Jackie.”

“I get that but you’ve been so busy with her and soccer I only get to see you for like fifteen minutes in the morning and all you talk about is Jackie.”

You mumble looking down at your intertwined hands trying not to fidget.

“I just want to spend some more time with you.”

You whisper anxiously.

Shauna doesn’t say anything for a minute and you freak out, you open your mouth to make up some excuse but she cuts you off with a kiss.

“Look our one year is coming up on Saturday, what if we go to that burger place you’ve been wanting to try then we catch a movie?”

She whispers kissing the back of your hand while looking at you with her big puppy dog eyes that always make you melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

“No Jackie?”

“Nope.”

You nod and kiss her cheek, “Can’t wait.”

Saturday comes, and you arrive at the restaurant. Seeing that Shauna isn’t there yet, you sit down in a booth and wait.

After 10 minutes you start to wonder what’s holding her up.

After 15 you get worried and send her a text ‘Hey I got us a booth, you almost here?’

After 20 minutes and the waitress refilling your water twice you finally get a text back.

‘Hey baby sorry to do this so last minute but Jackie and Jeff just broke up and she needs me. Hope you understand.’

You stare at your phone for a while, unsure what to text back. You don’t know how long you were staring but the waitress circles back snapping you out of your trance.

“Hey, honey are you ready to order yet?”

She whispers kindly while glancing down at your phone, you tilt it down trying to hide the screen.

You want to answer but you’re afraid you’ll start sobbing the second you open your mouth.

“I-”

“I’m so sorry babe!”

Suddenly Lottie slides into the booth next to you.

“Practice ran late and then my phone died and I couldn't call an Uber to get here so I walked.”

She rambles on and on wrapping an arm around your waist.

You’re too stunned to speak but the waitress laughs and hands Lottie a menu.

“Oh thank goodness I thought the poor thing had been stood up.”

She says smiling at the two of you.

“No ma’am,”

Says Lottie smiling back at the older woman.

“Just ran a little late.”

The waitress walks away leaving the two of you alone in the booth.

“Lottie? What are you doing here?”

You ask watching her look over the menu carefully.

You don’t know much about Lottie. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Shauna to get out of the locker room, and one time, she asked you for a pen in your English class and never gave it back.

“Well I came to get something to go but then I saw you here and heard the staff whispering that you’ve been here for like a half hour.”

You mumble hiding your face in your hands.

You look over by the entrance and see a group of waitresses whispering and looking at you. When they notice you’re looking, they all split up, and you watch one of them take plates away from a table that is clearly still eating as she tries to look busy.

“God, can this day get any worse?”

“So why are you here by yourself? Where’s Shauna Isn’t today your anniversary?”

You peek at her from behind your hands.

“You know when our anniversary is?”

She nods chuckling with a small smirk.

“Kinda hard to forget the day Shauna got so annoying. So where is she?”

You take your hands away from your face and sigh trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“She’s with Jackie…I guess she and Jeff broke up and Shauna wanted to stay with her.”

Lottie puts the menu down looking at you in shock.

“You’re fucking with me.”

The waitress comes back and takes your orders. Lottie orders a grilled chicken sandwich with fries and you get a cheeseburger with fries.

As the waitress walks away again Lottie turns back to you.

“And she told you all this last minute?”

You nod your head looking down at your water cup.

“Yeah, she texted me like 30 seconds before you showed up.”

The waitress comes back with your food and Lottie thanks her handing her a hundred-dollar bill.

“That’s enough right? And you can keep the rest as a tip for keeping my girlfriend here company while I was running late.”

The waitress nods thanking Lottie and walks away probably to brag about her tip.

“You usually don’t pay until you’re done eating ya’ know?”

You mumble trying not to blush, how can she call you her girlfriend so easily and just keep going like nothing happened?

“And what’s with the whole girlfriend comment?”

Lottie eats some of her fries with a grin.

“Well I figured you wouldn’t want them circling back with the check and I called you babe when I first got here so I thought I’d keep playing along.”

The two of you finish your food just talking and having a pretty good time overall, which is shocking given how the day started.

When the two of you get up to leave you grab onto the sleeve of Lottie’s sweater.

“Hey, I um…I got tickets to Beatlejuice Beatlejuice for me and Shauna. Do you wanna….”

Lottie smiles at you, not like her usual confident grin or her haughty little smirk but an actual smile. You let go of her sleeve and look down trying to get the butterflies in your stomach under control.

“Yeah sure lets go.”

#fanfic #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews #lesbian #no use of y/n #fem reader #yellowjackets

95 notes · View notes

thattimdrakeguy · 7 months ago

Text

I HAVE BEEN READING ZDARSKY BATMAN, AND I HAVE DECLARED: I FREAKING LOVE IT!!

I'm reading the Batman Zdarsky run in reverse. That way if I see any bull I can back out at anytime: and to be honest--besides a few things. I really enjoy it

LIKE YO, THAT IS JUST STRAIGHT UP TIM DRAKE RIGHT THERE. It knows who he is as a character. his motives, it's great.

Screw the people complaining "oh why is tim still robin :((", THIS IS WHY HE IS STILL ROBIN. Because this is when he's at his BEST. When he gets to hit his character purpose, WHEN HE GETS TO BE HIM AT HIS MOST HIM. It's FANTASTIC.

Reading in reverse because I know I hated the first story, it was so contrived and ridiculous.

But this--this is some good shit.

Tim being an underdog fighter, having to use his wits to win the fight? MY DAWG, MY DUDE, MY GUYS, MY GALS, MY THEMS, MY THEYS, THIS IS SO TIMMY DRAKE. This is so damn Tim Drake, guys. Oh, my gosh, I am loving this so far.

Dick has his temper back? And trust me, he isn't normally like this. But he's hitting a limit AND IT'S SOMETHING NEW, NOT JUST A REFERENCE. HE'S ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING HE'D DO, 'CAUSE HE'S AT HIS LIMIT. That's wonderful, man. That is so wonderful.

Plus Tim is the heart of the Bat-Family again? This feels like someone actually went back to read these characters before writing it. I'm not saying everything is perfect of course, but these high marks are exceeding all my expectations. And I STOPPED reading comics because of how the beginning of this run destroyed any hope I had.

You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying the few issues I've read. Besides the cussing (I remember after a bit they decided Tim was someone who used funny words instead of proper cusses), this feels like the Tim I know and love during the era I especially loved him.

Tim comparing himself to his predecessors? Tim not being a natural? A WRITER REMEMBERING THAT?? It's been so long since I've seen that! Most writers treat him like he was another prodigy when he wasn't. AND THIS GUY REMEMBERED THAT!

I shouldn't be so happy at just seeing Tim do Tim things, and serving his character purpose. BUT YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE A WRITER KNEW WHAT TIM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

Only complaints I have is that Jason feels like a typical Bat-Family member, and not the sketchy outsider that he is. Making him so close makes his character more bland in my opinion. And Steph is--also generic af unless she's wacky quirky...which is a characterization I hate for her, because she started off so damn interesting, but they made her a freaking trope instead, which is such a disservice to her, but she barely does anything so far, so whatever I guess. Doesn't mean much.

This is the first honest thing I've seen that I hated.

Not this

This isn't the Bat-Family

This is a sitcom world the fandom wants to be the Bat-Family and some comply with

They're not a sitcom. The conflicts, and uniqueness of the characters is what makes things feel alive and well.

This stuff is cheap fanservice for the fanon demographic that doesn't buy comics to begin with.

Fanon doesn't belong in canon.

I mean sure Tim could be drawn smaller, the gag of him looking 12 when he's nearly 18 doesn't work when he's bigger than Damian who is 15 (and contrary to some bullshit comics isn't meant to be small. that was a random thing added for writers who aren't clever to write better humor. it actually contradicts things that were already established).

Don't see the big deal though for most of this.

Can't wait to find it, though. Oh boy.

This whole obsession with Zur Batman, is way over done though. So--I wouldn't be shocked if that was the problem, because my golly does that plot point not seem to be stopping--and it was there from the start and part of the reason why I didn't read it 'til now.

Good Tim tho, at least. So heehee, yey for that--I think--I guess.

Oh, well.

It let me peak at a pseudo-version of an AU I made up years ago. So that's pretty freaking cool.

Always a plus.

And redoing Red Robin story beats but better? Normally I'd hate references to Red Robin, 'cause that changed the perception of so many characters for the worst, but ayy, a bit of redemption isn't bad.

Man, just seeing simple stuff like Tim and Bruce being good ol' classic Batman and Robin warms my heart. It's been so long since Batman and Robin has acted like a proper classic Batman and Robin. It's dynamic that's been sorely missed by many.

OH, MY GOSH, WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO STINK SO BAD. THIS STUFF IS GREAT.

Like, DUDE, this is such a Tim thing for him to do!!

And he's showing emotion?? He's crying like how he does?? Because he's not a typical Bat-Family member who just angsts his way through?? THEY'RE MAKING HIM STAND-OUT AGAIN BY MAKING HIM, HIM??

WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO SUCK SO BAD?? THIS IS GOOD SHIT.

Like this part is why I originally stopped reading, not because Bruce should think Tim is his soldier, and not his son, THE FREAKING OPPOSITE.

But because the original story has Bruce acting weird when unneeded, just to say this was so unneeded, and adding in all these stupid corny Bat-Family moments was so groan worthy.

This run started off with a story that was a total turn off for me.

To end up being a run that could've kept me enjoying DC, rather than running away from it from as far as I have.

Chip Zdarsky started off awful, but really, he ended up great.

And I've seen people complain about his run, and TRUST ME, there's stuff to complain about. But I have only ever seen the stuff worth complaining about, or stuff I WOULD complain about.

WHEN MOST OF THE RUN IS GOOD

At least when Tim is around.

Go figure.

Maybe I should've paid sole attention to how he wrote Tim and nothing else at the very least for that first story.

'Cause even in the first story, Tim was well-written--it's how cheap the rest of the story telling was in that first story that turned me off--and the weird knew about the movie plans that I am still fully judging harshly. (Love the new Superman film suit, though)

#Tim Drake #Robin #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Chip Zdarsky

162 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 1 year ago

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || You Have Diabetes

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan knew that there had to be something wrong, you'd been acting a little off since leaving the arcade together and now you were leaning against his car trying to steady yourself.

"You're scaring me, baby, what's going on?" He did his best not to sound freaked out as he asked you and you bit down on your lip. You'd never hid your diabetes before and you weren't sure why you'd hidden it from Chan but you just had.

"C-Can you get my bag? I need to take my Insulin," You confessed as he rushed into your bag, grabbing everything you told him to and watching you the whole time as you took your shot.

"Can I help?" He questioned when he noticed you hesitating to take the shot yourself, you looked at him and smiled weakly,

"J-Just hold me when it's done?" You questioned as he nodded his head. You thought you'd get used to the pain after all these years but it never went away. The whole time Chan watched you and waited for you to come to him when you were ready.

MINHO:

Every time you had to change your dexcom Minho was right there with you, helping in any way that he could. Including today as he handed you all of the antibacterial wipes you were going to need and then the device to help you attach your monitor.

"I got you something!" He called out as he rushed off toward the living room, slowly coming back with an envelope in his hand. There was a giant smile on his face as he pulled out the different kinds of covers that he'd bought for your Dexcom.

"You got me stickers?" You smiled brightly, looking at all of the different types before selecting the doughnut one.

"I know how you hated the plain ones and I saw these and thought of you," He stated as he carefully began to apply the sticker, making your whole body heat up as you watched him take care of you.

CHANGBIN:

"Do you have any sweets?!" Changbin asked as Felix walked into the studio, you were sitting on the sofa shaking a little as you realised your blood sugar levels were low and you had nothing to help you out.

"I think I have some jelly babies," He mumbles before rooting through the bag he was carrying and giving them to you. You smiled weakly and began to eat them as Changbin watched you closely. Ever since he'd found out about your diabetes he'd been so protective over it, usually, he'd have snacks everywhere with him but his mini-fridge broke last week which was why he was glad Felix came along.

"What happens now?" Felix asked as both of them watched you eat some of the jelly babies, you smiled a little.

"Yn will check their blood sugar levels again in about 15 minutes," Changbin explained proudly, he was very happy that he knew the ins and outs of everything since he wanted to be the one to help you.

HYUNJIN:

Ever since you'd told Hyunjin about your diabetes he'd been nothing but sweet about it. Every morning you'd wake up to breakfast in bed and if he wasn't there to make it for you when you woke up, it was already premade and just needed heating up. Not to mention at lunch he would text you to make sure you'd eaten enough or make sure you took your blood sugar if you weren't feeling like yourself.

"You know you don't have to do this right?" You questioned as you boyfriend placed the tray down on your lap,

"It's your week off, I should be making you breakfast." You finished but he shook his head at you and sat beside you in bed, both of you tucking into the delicious meal he'd made for you.

"You're supposed to be having three meals a day and if I get to make one of those meals then I will," He smiled proudly before you kissed his cheek softly, thanking him for the breakfast.

JISUNG:

Jisung had researched everything he could when it came to your diabetes, he'd wanted to be prepared if there was any time you should need him.

"Here," He told you as he handed you a glass of water and your pill tray making you groan. You'd only just opened your eyes and he was already giving you your medication.

"Can I open my eyes first?" You joked, sitting up and leaning your back against the headboard as you carefully took the tablets from his hands,

"This is me reminding you to take them," He grinned proudly and watched as you took them and then poked your tongue out at him to prove you'd taken them.

"You don't have to do this, you know? I can do it...I don't want to be a bother," You whispered knowing he knew you'd more than likely forget about taking them,

"You're not a bother, you're my partner and I like getting to care for you," He told you as you rested your head on his shoulder, smiling a little as he cuddled you close.

FELIX:

"Yn? You okay?" Felix asked as he noticed you holding your hand over your chest as you did your best to calm yourself down. You'd tested your blood sugar a few minutes ago and it was low but you had nothing on you. The boys and you were in the middle of a hike and you had no snacks or even fizzy drinks because you thought the big breakfast you'd had that morning would have been just fine.

"Yn?" Felix questioned as you leaned against a rock, your eyes shutting as you tried not to throw up.

"Here," Something cold was placed in your hand and you slowly peeled your eyes open to see a can of full-sugar Pepsi in your hand.

"I thought you said you didn't have anything!" Jisung screamed out annoyed but Felix glared at him,

"Yn needs them," Felix grumbled as you began to drink from the can and he reached through his bag for something you could eat.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin couldn't stand needles which was why it was confusing to you as to why he would watch you take your injection. Every. Time.

"Why do you watch if it's something that freaks you out?" You laughed as you injected yourself, biting down on your lip as you tried to ignore the pain.

"I want to be supportive," He cringed as you disregarded the needle and his whole body shivered.

"I don't know how you do it, a needle every day...You're so brave," He looked at you as you smiled shyly at him, it was just something you knew you had to do. Something that you'd gotten used to over all of the years you'd been doing this.

"I love you," He whispered before kissing you softly,

"Love you too, scaredy cat." You winked playfully before he tickled your sides.

JEONGIN:

Jeongin had been worried when you first told him about your diabetes, he was scared about not knowing how to help you so he'd spent countless nights researching until the late hours and then was tired for work the next day.

"I understand everything now." He told you as you watched him filling up the small fridge that he had inside of his bedroom.

"Oh? What do you understand?" You laughed softly as he turned to look at you,

"I will have a constant supply of sweets or sugary drinks for you. Not to mention I can carry spare insulin if you need me to." Your heart raced a little, no one had ever put that much effort in for you before.

"Innie,"

"I mean it. I'll do anything for you," He told you before kissing your cheek softly and smiling as he handed you a small packet of jelly babies.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @djeniryuu @backintomykpopphaseagain @choisoorin

449 notes · View notes