#potato speaks :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatsnewalycat · 4 months

Text

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

------

Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[ NEXT PART ]

2K notes · View notes

honey-milk-depresso · 5 months

Note

Jason, Tim and Dick with an s/o who’s completely the opposite of them??

Requests open until 1 Feb (GMT 8+)! Please read the rules on my pinned post (provided the navi post link to go to rules). Thank you!🩷

Batboys with an s/o completely opposite of them

Dick Grayson

Dick is a very extroverted, active and optimistic individual while you’re very introverted, lazy (let’s all be real here-) and… well, he calls you a realist (because he doesn’t wanna call you a pessimist-).

The two of you have a rather funny dynamic between the two of you: Dick’s always the one dragging you out because you need “sunlight”.

“Come on, s/o! Let’s take a stroll! Gotta get that vitamin D!”

“Dick… it’s 8pm.”

“…” “You get the point, come on now-”

He’s just concern for your health because he loves you and doesn’t want you to just laze at home all the time, you know? And isn’t it nice to take a stroll with your boyfriend?? Come on now-

Dick’s always the one to cheer you up when you’re grumpy or sad (or both), and you’re always there to ground him back to reality when needed and he appreciates that.

Another thing to note is that he actually has poor communication skills when it comes to the relationship, and always feels like he’s a burden to share his problems. You, on the other hand, aren’t afraid to speak your mind and put a lot of trust in him when it comes to communicating challenges within your relationship with Dick and you encouraging him to put trust in you because he will never burden you because you love him honestly makes him admire you, and also fall in love with you even more.

It’ll take some time, not because he doesn’t trust you, it’s just because there’s that lingering thought of not wishing to burden you and also because old habits die hard but… slowly he’ll get there, and that’ll be the one thing you guys can be similar in.

For now, he loves his potato couch cutie (just stroll with him every once in a while at least-) <3

Jason Todd

Has no idea how he even managed to get you, because you’re everything he’s not.

He’s always so emotional, impulsive and jealous, while you’re so calm, rational and trusting in him even when he knows he’s got so much sin in him that he’s not proud of committing, and knows he can’t be forgiven for them at times.

Yet… you never saw that in him. You’ve always thought he’s someone compassionate, loyal and caring, and you love him even at his worse. He’s never thought of himself like that after you told him so sincerely and gently that he almost broke down and cried. You love him so much as much as he loves you it makes him feel so warm and comforted. He just feels so lucky to have you.

He kinda wishes he’s like you, because he’d always think it’s better to be anyone else but you’d tell him otherwise. Besides, it’s always opposites that attract.

He loves you with every fibre of his being, you’re like a second chance given to him. Well, not that he sees you as a way to feel better but he genuinely believes you’re an angel sent to him. Literally. But seriously, he loves you and he’ll try to be a little bit more calmer than let his anger get the best of him. You always can calm him down anyways.

You always told him that his compassion for you touched you, and that his warmth and love is something you’ve never had before from anyone, you make him feel so special, you know that? <3

Tim Drake

Tim’s… all sorts of things. He’s ambivert, more introvert-leaning, but he’s also poor in time management due to his workaholic nature and rather reserved in temperament.

And you were a lot more responsible and better in time management because you ACTUALLY do set limits for yourself than just doing EVERYTHING in one goal. You weren’t a control-freak like him, rather taking things slowly. Just like him, you’re an ambivert but more extrovert-leaning and you had a tendency of getting lost in your emotions, just being more sensitive than him in general.

Every time you try to drag him to bed, shower, eat, just take care of himself he gets a bit pouty every time you do this but he’s touched. You had to open his eyes to let him see that timetables exist, and open up his heart to let him know it’s okay to take a break. Breaks even. He deserves breaks.

Tim is always there to calm you down. You just get so worried for him every time he goes out for patrol because anything could happen to him in Gotham. He reassured you, kissing your forehead softly while you patch him up with a little bit of tears glossing your eyes and tells you he’s okay. He’s never really had people care for him so much to the point they cry which was why when he got a few minor cuts on his arms and torso, he panicked when he saw you cry so much. He makes a mental note to make sure he doesn’t come home too injured, but at the same time you always tell him he shouldn’t hide his pain from you. You just want him safe.

You two just blend well together, and he always feels like he can come to you when he feels troubled. And you can always go to him for comfort.

Bonus: You dragging Tim by his feet to go to bed while his coffee-drunk ass is sighing in defeat and lets you drag him away but smiled tenderly despite being tired. Sigh, fine. He’ll sleep, just for you. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

1K notes · View notes

aliceattheart · 5 months

Note

Can I request a Yandere Alastor, Vox, and Valentino(separate) please?

Yan! Hazbin Hotel x AFAB reader

Yeah! I totally don't mind at all :]

Sadly at the moment the only character I feel comfortable with writing for is Alastor. I don't know much about Vox and Valentino. I do apologize 😭

I kinda skimmed it for slight spelling mistakes. All in all, I got it done. :D

Yan! Alastor

Alastor is deadly obsessed with your scent. That's what led the Doll maker to you. His little Doll.

Alastor is sickened with existential possessive tranquility. To gaze at your smile only makes him yearn for your touch.

It was only a matter of time before he put his nerves beside and spoke to you. "Well hello there Miss, may I aquire a little bit of your precious time." Kissing the back of your hand. The charmer he appears to be. With a mouth full of sharp teeth and sharp claws. You found it weird that he was so gentle.

You have no one to blame for failing madly in love with his elegant charm and sweet voice. A voice that carried endless symphonies of love and no regrets.

You were content with his lack of Physical affection but none the less you did want to embrace and fall into his lips. He would give in every now and again but you couldn't shake of the somber ravenous guilty of intimacy.

Deciding that you couldn't keep a facade, you wanted to break things off. "Y/n, my Moon in the Red sky. Are you saying you don't want me?" When he put it that way you feel disgusted with yourself. But you can't give in.

"Alastor, my heart yearns for something more. Something you can't give. It's not because you've failed to love me. I'm just greedy and selfish."

The last words that came out of your mouth. Did you really mean it? After that you started to spill like an over flowing sink. Words you've never thought came out. "I was wrong for ever thinking of leaving you. I'll stay with you for all eternity, even if I don't have that. In death I wouldn't want to part from you." You were confused and apparently your mouth wasn't listening to your wants and demands.

Alastor sat facing you with big dark eyes, smiling benevolently at you. Opening his mouth to speak he said. "Y/n, you are my muse I can't just let you run off. No need to think or hide away. Let's keep you as my favorite Doll for all eternity, please?" He formed it as a question but in reality he wasn't giving you a choice.

With a snap of his fingers your body became silent to your pleads for movement. Alastor humming a tune, picked you up. You felt like a sack of potatoes heavy, yet weightless in his arms. Opening a demon circle to his residence. He proceeds to take you to his basement. Strapping you into a chair.

"My Sweet Doll Face. He whispered into your left ear. "This will only hurt for a while. I shall break you and put you back together. For my love for you is true. You shall move to my wishes and mine alone. Your heart shall not want for more." He kissed your lips. And sewn them shut.

For the first time in all your existence you wanted to beg for mercy, to god. Irony isn't, you couldn't speak.

Alice here :D

I this would be my first ever request. I want to make it short. In the future I'll specify the characters I right for. I pray that I'll be able to build the courage and make a Master list.

#alastor x reader #yandere #yancore #hazbin hotel #dead dove do not eat #fanfic

322 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 7 months

Text

D!! I'm a little busy right now, sweetie. What's up?

What do you mean there's not enough potatoes?! You had one task, buddy!

Alright, alright. I'm going to need you to run down to the store and see if they have some more. Here, take my car...

Why are you looking at me like that? Dieter, are you high?

Wait, you don't look so hot... OH SHIT!

Marvellous. Now I need to change my shirt. Thanks, D. 😑

Javi! Can you go to the store and get some more potatoes for me? Dieter isn't feeling so good, I think he took something-

I see... well, at least I know where he got the LSD from. 🤨

Yeeeah, I love you too bud, just... sleep it off, okay?

Honestly those two... Frankie, have the other Pedro Boys started to arrive yet?

That's a negative? Okay, great we still have time.

Have you seen Dave? Oh, he's keeping a look out for the boys too?

Is that really necessary? I mean, it's just a turkey dinner... I don't think we need heavy artillery.

Okay fine. Carry on with the perimeter checks... As you were, Pilot. 🫡

Marcus, it smells really good in here. How's the meringue coming along?

Urm, the eggs are supposed to go into the bowl dude, not the sink. Focus!

Jack, you got a handle on the fire there, cowboy? You sure? It's looking a little out of control...

Well okay. If you say so. At least one of you is helpful today... sheesh. 🙄

Marcus? Are you dressed yet? Can I borrow a shirt? Dieter threw up on mine... Marcus?

What are you doing in there?! You know what, I don't wanna know...

Marcus, that sock looks awfully sticky... Wait a minute, is that MY sock?? 😶 No, you can keep it... just get dressed, would you?

MAX! Oh my God! Put her down, we don't eat the guests!

Javi, are you going to do anything to help me get these boys under control, or are you just going to sit there looking pretty?

Ezra, take your suit off, we're not going to the moon for Thanksgiving dinner... Remember what happened the last time you went? I'd prefer you to keep your remaining limbs in tact today... In fact, stay way from the carving knife.

Speaking of, Joel! Can you come carve the turkey for me please?

Oh, for crying out loud...

Oberyn, can you light the candles please?

I mean, sure, but they're just candles, bub. No need to lose your head...

Tim! Where did you get Chinese food?? We're about to sit down and eat!

Din! Dank farrik, DIN!

Can you please keep Grogu from eating the cookies! They're for later...

Pero, I hope you're not helping yourself... Those bread rolls are for everyone.

Seriously, boys. You all need to calm down and help!

I don't think I can handle much more carnage today-

Jack, honey. Was that you...?

Well boys, looks like we're ordering out... 🙄 Sigh.

Tim, what's the number for that Chinese place?

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Although I'm British and we don't really celebrate, I'm so thankful for all of you lovely people.

All of you lovely writers, mutuals, followers, silent lurkers, friends and, of course, the Pedro Boys (and all the chaos that comes with them).

Eat, drink and be merry today, if you're celebrating. And try not to blow the place up. 😬

🖤

258 notes · View notes

bakedpotatomika · 6 months

Text

I’ve been trying to take it easy towards the end of the year and that has turned into me playing Animal Crossing on my 3DS a little bit every day (it’s also been nice! I’ve been trying to sleep earlier too! :D) IF ANYONE HAS THE GAME AND HAS SOME FRUITS IN THEIR TOWN I CAN GET PLEASE….HELPPPPP I do not mind exchanging friend codes and trying to visit a town!!

#potato speaks #potato speaks :D #I CANT TAKE THIS NO MORE I NEED AN AXE AND SOME NEW FRUITS #😭😭😭#animal crossing #animal crossing new leaf #animal crossing 3DS #nintendo 3ds #3DS #ACNL #acnl community

28 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 10 months

Note

Please talk more about B & D’s “unable to be defined/labeled dynamic/relationship as it encompasses many labels yet at the same time cannot be fitted to just one label” dynamic 🙏

I'd be delighted to!!

Link to original post

In the previous post I had included a panel where Bruce is referred to Dick as his "surrogate father, mentor, friend, and partner." These words could not be more different from each other and while they should not be used in conjunction with each other, they have never suited these two people more. In fact I don't there is any character pairing in any fandom that has the same dynamic that these two have. Dick and Bruce's relationship has a complicated depth to it that Bruce and the rest of his children don't have.

I think the most confusing thing is when Bruce constantly confuses Dick being a son and a partner.

First thing I want to start off with is that Dick and Bruce used to sleep in beds so close together it looks like one bed. In the 1950's this arrangement was known as the "twin beds" which were typically used for married couples. Children slept in a separate bedroom which begs the question why Dick and Bruce had a sleeping arrangement similar to that of marriage partners. This is the first weird thing about their relationship.

Not to mention, the romantic boat rides they used to take together. But was this normal then between father and son or is it just a romantic thing now, I don't know. As well as when they decided bronzing themselves naked next to each other. Not really sure what was going on there, if it was acceptable during that time or what but I do know that the reason that creators decided to send Dick to college in 1970 was because they wanted to beat the gay batman and robin allegations. It's weird as hell that they even came up with these ideas. Also the robin crossdressing. For justice, am I right?!

I feel these instances are important because it breaks any barriers they have between them. They're so (platonically for me) intimate that there's nothing but each other in their souls. One of the key reasons that their relationship is vague and intense and encompassing.

Dick is also considered Bruce's partner intellectually.

Instead of Dick listening to Bruce and following behind, as it's often shown in robin comics, they talk on equal terms. There's other moments of this shown too:

I think this is the reason why Bruce considers Dick a partner. He's not only exceedingly intelligent, but he even at a young age he's able to keep up with Bruce's thought process as an equal when even the justice league and other major adult heroes fail to do. Bruce's inventions are Dick's inventions because they played an equal role in creating them. This is why he's called the Prodigal Son.

Now onto him being a best friend and a son mix.

We know the classic example of Dick expecting to be Bruce's best man and Bruce thinking the same. But there are other moments that indicate that too.

But it isn't one sided because Dick also sees Bruce as his best friend:

Dick punching Bruce in the throat and single handedly carrying him like a sack of potatoes is just funny as hell.

Also including the fact that Dick and Bruce embody sleepover, besties behavior:

BUT HERE'S WHERE IT GETS JUICY.

Having your child act as your bestfriend is terrible for your child's mental health.

I'm speaking from personal experience but when your parent trauma dumps their life onto you at a young age, you mature emotionally much faster than you're supposed. You start becoming aware of people's thoughts and emotions at a deeper level and you start attuning yourself to others. In layman's terms: you change yourself to be able to meet your parent's high expectations and act as an emotional sponge for their anger, sorrow, disappointment, and frustration about their own life.

I'm not hesitant to admit that Dick's manipulation tactics most likely stem from this behavior. He knows what he wants and he will do anything to get it. This doesn't mean he's a bad person though. In fact I give him the highest level of respect of any character because all his intentions are good. He doesn't cheat, lie, or trick people into killing themself or harming others or bringing them down. He does it to make their lives better which is-I'm sorry, I don't have the proper words to express the multitudes of emotion I'm feeling for that.

(I nearly went into a massive monologue about how other people view his manipulation but that's for another post. )

This is also where things get complicated, and why we know Bruce and Dick as the way they are.

Dick has become so emotionally and mentally adept that he's able to pick up on others' thoughts and attitudes (Bruce specifically) before they even realize them. This is why Bruce is so dependent on Dick for everything. In one comic Garth says "Dick's a good listener."

I'm going to deviate for a minute here and include a panel that shows how this personality trait affects Dick's other roles:

Speaking more about Bruce's impact on Dick, there's this:

Aside from the huge ass painting on the wall of just the two of them-the panel is another perfect example of the complicated depth to them. They see each other as equals and when something interferes with that perception, then they start having problems. It haunts Bruce that the 8yr old he took in is equally matched to him in skill and ability but he also recognizes that Dick is too young to be able to do so. He should not have to experience the pain and responsibility of an adult but Bruce can't just get rid of him because Dick is the only one capable of keeping up with him. His heart also breaks when Dick is away (he starts crying in a panel multiple panels as Dick is leaving). For Dick he's already far used to the roles and responsibilities that he doesn't consider his age a factor as to why Bruce refuses to let him do the same things. This is a source of miscommunication between them. Bruce knows Dick can succeed at anything given to him but feels he shouldn't have to deal with those things. And Dick doesn't understand the hesitance when he's proven to have accomplished those tasks and greater before.

To expand, Dick's relationship with Bruce reminds me of Slade's relationship with Billy Wintergreen when Deathstroke tells him "You've been with me through everything...but now I have to say goodbye when you're unconscious or else I can't do it." Or something along those lines, the vibes are the same.

Oh yes, and this scene too:

Which mimics a lot of the confusion other characters have over Dick and Bruce's relationship.

But the difference between Slade and Billy vs Dick and Bruce is that Dick and Bruce's relationship is blurred on ALL fronts. There's not a single moment where Bruce has viewed Dick strictly as a son.

This leads me into the mentor aspect.

Note: while Dick knows Bruce the best, Bruce also knows Dick the best of all his children. There's a certainty to the way he speaks about Dick's abilities that he lacks when discussing his other sons'. That doesn't mean he doesn't know what they can do-he well aware and knowledgeable-it just means that his relationship with and understanding of Dick far exceeds what he has with the others.

Holy crap there's so much I'm bouncing all over the place-let me go back for second to partners.

Everyone knows this iconic scene whether you're in the fandom or not:

But few people know what comes next-

From the dawn of Batman and Robin comics, Batman has been obsessed with controlling Dick. I don't understand why he doesn't use his manipulative tactics on anyone else. There's a comic panel where Dick tells Barbara, "...you and Bruce don't need to manipulate me into doing what you guys want." It was always his way or the highway with him and Bruce reflects on this again in Batman and Robin Eternal. Dick also tells Bruce he's being pig-headed during the 1966 comic version of the Warner Brother's film and when Bruce asks him "Am I really pig-headed?" Alfred goes "hell yeah." Essentially.

(Also going to sneak this in as another example of why Dick wasn't an angry robin to a previous post

)

Ofcourse Bruce seems him as a son too:

THE FULL ON SMILE HE HAS ON HIS FACE JUST LISTENING TO DICK TALK!!!

Also in the linked previous post there's the panel of Bruce begging the judge not to take away his son from him. "Dick is like my own son!I've even changed my will so that incase of my death, Dick will get my entire fortune! You honor, I...I love that boy! Please don't take him from me!"

We already know many references about Dick being labelled Dick's son so I'll leave this aside for now.

Now here's the main point- the way Bruce and Dick interact with each other has so much history they're unable to explain themselves to others or each other. There's so many complex emotions between the two of them that sometimes even they're confused.

But seriously. What is your obsession with Dick, Bruce?

Lemme explain.

As everyone knows Dick and Clark are best friends. They are so close to the point where Bruce actually sweeps the stuff off his desk in the batcave and says "LET ME JUST GET RID OF ALL OUR TROPHIES. I'LL JUST MAKE ROOM FOR THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN AND ROBIN INSTEAD!"

WTFFFFF BRUCE. WHY ARE YOU GETTING JEALOUS OF YOUR 15YR OLD'S FRIENDSHIP?

Oh, yes, what trophies am I talking about? Trophies of their battles together of course!

Which means the batcave is memorabilia of their time together. You know what that also means? It means that Bruce sulks in the Batcave because in the cave, he can literally surround himself with the time he spent with Dick.

Bruce is so abnormal about Dick. He sees Dick as an all in one. Every single relationship category you can think of, Bruce has bundled it up and put it into Dick. If all their various relationships became a physical string, Bruce would have a leash on Dick that resembles a thick, corded rope. So if you cut one thread of, say, friendship, the rope won't tear become the other threads of partnership, family, and other ambiguous threads would still hold them together.

Bruce has a leash on Dick but something Dick doesn't know and Bruce won't admit is that Dick has a leash on him too.

HERE'S THE INSECURITY WITH DICK AGAIN. THE MAN THINKS THE WORLD OF DICK BUT HE'S HORRIFIED AT THE THOUGHT, AT THE POSSIBILITY, THAT DICK DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME OF HIM.

He's constantly seeking reassurance of his place with Dick through the only way he knows how-manipulation. While Bruce consistently distances himself from his son, he's doing it on purpose so Dick will come running back to him. I mean-isn't that what he did with Jason? Expelling Dick in fury and fear and not telling Dick about taking in a new robin?

In the comic Dick drops by and tells him "I found out through a newspaper and since I haven't been robin..." to which Bruce responds horrified and guilty. He knows what he's doing. He just doesn't want to get caught as to why.

Others have picked on this obsession he has with Dick too:

Someone clearly knew the importance of Nightwing to Batman. They knew what his death would do to him. And in response Bruce went out of his way-to a foreign land-just to take revenge on the man who almost took “his boy” away from him. Leaving with a parting promise, an oath, to hunt down the other one and leave him crippled for life too. Did Batman know KG Beast would survive or did he just leave it up to fate?

In the previous panel, apart from KG Beast calling Dick "your boy" to Batman, it's only implied though. So how do we know if Dick really does have that much weight to Bruce? Well not only is it confirmed, it is engraved in stone:

And when the blast nearly kills Dick, Bruce nearly kills the man who did it. WITH A GUN.

Also him trying to strangle Lex Luthor to death before Lex chokes out in between stolen gasps that Dick's not actually dead but he will be if Bruce continues.

Did you know that the dead Robin in the Superman vs Batman movie was confirmed to be Dick? Yeah. That says a lot right there.

Brothers

I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here and say the two of them are a LOT.

Bruce and Dick's relationship is impossible to define and that's why they keep ending up fighting. Their relationship doesn't have clear boundaries and since each type of relationship (brotherhood, father/son, partnership, friendship, colleagues, idols&pedestals) has it's own unique problems, and because the two of them alone are all those things, they have all the problems of each of these categories combined. But they also have all the benefits. Inseparably entwined these two.

426 notes · View notes

webslinger-holland · 2 years

Text

The Responsible One | Eddie Munson

Summary: Out of the Hellfire club, the reader is the most responsible one and basically the mother of the group. But Eddie can’t bring himself to confess his feelings.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: none

Type: Oneshot

It has all started the first week of senior year. Now this was Eddie’s third time repeating his senior year, but he claimed this time was going to be different. And it was for one reason.

With each school year, Eddie picked out some little ‘lost sheep’ in the crowd to become part of his Hellfire Club. Just last semester, Eddie had found the most unlikely person to join their group. Her name was Y/n L/n.

In January, Eddie saw her coming to sit at the far end of their table. She silently sat by herself, lowering her tray of gross cafeteria food on the table. Then Y/n proceeded to pull out a D&D Monsters Manual book.

This caused Eddie to spit out the milk he was drinking from his little carton. The other members of the group turned to look at him with a quizzical look in their eyes. He’d never seen a girl that was interested in the game. He tipped his head to motion to the strange girl and all of their eyes followed his gaze.

By the end of the week, Eddie had worked up the courage to approach her and ask her if she wanted to join their club. She happily agreed to.

When Eddie received the news that he wouldn’t be graduating and he’d have to repeat his senior year once again, he wasn’t necessarily upset like all the other times.

This meant that he’d get to spend another year building his Hellfire Club. It also meant he’d get to spend more time with her.

At the start of the new year, the Hellfire Club was short on three people since three of their members had graduated in the spring. It didn’t take long for them to recruit three kids named Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. They were die hard fans of the game and they had been playing since they were little.

They proved their worth on multiple occasions, helping defeat various monsters. On Fridays, the club would wear their Hellfire shirts since they planned to play after school. This week was no different.

At lunch, Eddie lifted his gaze to stare at Y/n while he mindlessly played with his mashed potatoes. She was situated between Mike and Dustin.

The two boys had one of their first midterms coming up next week. Neither of them had studied. So Y/n was helping them out by walking them through some of the problems.

“Then the exponent goes-,” Y/n voice trailed off.

“Right there,” Dustin exclaimed as if the light had finally gone off in his head and it all made sense to him.

“Exactly!” Y/n said with a broad smile on her face. She scribbled on the piece of paper to write down the answer to the equation.

Eddie kept his gaze on his food, but the corners of his lips cracked into a small smile. He stole a quick glance towards her.

“Algebra is so much easier when you explain it. You’re even better than Mrs Miller,” Mike stated. He claimed he never learned anything from his teacher.

“Well, I’ve tutored a lot of kids. I’ve had practice,” Y/n explained.

“Speaking of tutoring,” Y/n peered around the boys to look towards the head of the table. “Do you need any help studying for Mrs O’Donnells midterm?” Y/n wondered.

While Y/n knew that Eddie’s grades weren’t the best in school and that he had failed Mrs O’Donnell’s class twice, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if he needed or wanted any help.

“N-No thanks,” Eddie stumbled over his words. He quickly diverted his gaze by staring down at his food.

“Alright. If you change your mind, just let me know,” Y/n said as she rose to her feet. “I-I should get going. Got another class here soon,” she excused herself.

“See you after school,” Dustin called after her.

Once she was out of their line of sight, everyone turned their heads to look at the dungeon master himself. He raised his own head and looked at all of them. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“What?” Eddie wondered.

“You never take up her offer to tutor you,” Dustin noticed.

“Don’t need to,” Eddie claimed. “I am crawling my way towards a D- in Mrs O’Donnells class.”

“And one bad score on your midterm could drop you even further back,” Lucas stated.

“Listen man,” Eddie began. “I appreciate the effort, but believe me, if Y/n tutored me…I wouldn’t learn anything.”

“What makes you say that?” Dustin perked up.

“It’s because he wouldn’t be focusing on the homework if you know what I mean,” Garett smirked and quirked his eyebrow.

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled.

“You like her?!” Dustin exclaimed in a quiet whisper. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“How long have you had a crush on her?” Mike questioned.

“Ever since he saw her last semester reading a monsters manual,” Jeff interjected.

“Took him a week to finally talk to her,” Garett added since he had also been there last year to witness it.

“And he’s been gone every since,” Jeff added.

“Will you two just shut up?” Eddie demanded. He slammed his hands down on the table which caused all of them to jump and drop the subject.

There were a couple moments of awkward silence at the table. No one even dared speak up unless they wanted their head to get bitten off.

As if on cue, the lunch bell rang to signal the end of the period. Everyone at the table began to collect their things, throwing their trash onto their trays. One by one, they stood up to go their separate ways.

Finally, Eddie and Dustin were the last two at the table. They had a sort of bond. And Eddie couldn’t deny that he was closer to Dustin than the other two. There was just something about him that was loveable. It was almost like he was his younger brother.

“Hey. Listen,” Dustin said cautiously. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to Y/n because you don’t want to ruin the friendship you guys have.”

When Eddie didn’t say anything, Dustin took that as a cue to continue. He spoke softly so nobody could hear him.

“I don’t know much about girls but I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She really likes you,” Dustin tried.

“No,” Eddie shook his head in denial. “No, she’s like that to everyone. She’s just a kind hearted person. I’m no different than everyone else,” Eddie said.

“Well, if you say so.” Dustin sighed. He took his tray and began to walk away.

After Hellfire, Eddie always offered to drive the younger boys home since it was usually late at night. He’d also take Y/n home since she lived only ten minutes away from him.

The three boys clambered into the back of his van, obsessing over their last campaign session. They had just barely survived, but it was such an epic win. They couldn’t help talk about it.

Meanwhile, Eddie climbed into the driver’s seat and Y/n was seated in the passenger’s seat. He began to drive away.

He really wasn’t listening to the boys in the backseat, opting to steal temporary glances towards the person beside him. When Y/n would turn her head to look at him, Eddie would quickly look back towards the road. She smiled to herself.

Slowly, Eddie pulled up to Lucas’s house. He put the van in park and waited until he climbed out of the vehicle. All of the sudden, Y/n rolled down to window to call out to him.

“Don’t forget to study for your midterm,” Y/n called.

“Yes mom,” Lucas rolled his eyes while walking backwards. He sent her a small smile and a wave.

The van started up again. They began driving further down the street, taking a couple turns until they came to the next house.

At the Wheeler home, Mrs Wheeler was looking out the living room window. She had heard the van pulling up. She went to open the door and welcomed her teenage son home. She sent a small wave to the van as if to say thank you for bringing him home safely.

“What about that Eddie Munson and Y/n L/n?” Mrs Wheeler asked her son after she closed the front door.

“What about them?” Mike asked. He headed towards the kitchen and grabbed a cookie from the cookie jar.

“They’d make a good couple,” Mrs Wheeler confessed. She looked out the window to watch them drive away.

“They’re kinda polar opposites,” Mike said as if saying he knew them better than anyone. “Eddie is rebellious and Y/n is the responsible one of the group.”

“Opposites attract,” Mrs Wheeler claimed with a small smile. “You never know,” Mrs Wheeler insisted.

“Whatever,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Goodnight mom.”

By the time the van drove up to Dustin’s home, Dustin was fast asleep in the backseat. The two older kids turned their heads to look over their shoulder, smiling at the sight of Dustin sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“Should I scare him awake?” Eddie whispered.

“No! That would be mean,” Y/n stated. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the passenger door. She climbed out of the vehicle, prying open the door of the backseat.

Hesitantly, Y/n laid her hand on the young boy’s shoulder to waken him gently. He stirred in his sleep, tossing his head from side to side. He opened his eyes slowly.

“Hey Dustin,” Y/N whispered so softly. “You’re home.”

Lazily, Dustin unbuckled his own seatbelt and climbed out of the vehicle. She went to grab his jacket, throwing it over his shoulders. She then proceeded to zip him up like a mother would do for her own child.

She took his backpack out of the van. She handed it to him. She threw his cap on his head before gently pushing him towards his house. He shuffled up the driveway lazily and tiredly.

Afterwards, Y/n climbed back into the van. She buckled her seatbelt quickly. When she turned her head, she found Eddie looking directly at her with a small smile on his face.

“What?” Y/n smiled.

“Nothing,” Eddie shrugged. “You’re like the mom of the group.”

“Guilty,” Y/n laughed.

In that moment, Eddie started the van once again and drove away. The two of them sat in the most comfortable silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of wind coming through the cracked window.

When Eddie looked at Y/n, he saw her hair blowing in the wind as she looked out the window. Her facial features seemed to glow in the light of the moon. She looked heavenly.

Much to Eddie’s dismay, he made the turn to her house. He pulled into her driveway and turned the keys of his van. The two of them sat there in silence for a couple minutes.

Suddenly, Eddie turned his head to look at the young girl sitting beside him. He clambered out of his own car, which caused his car to rock back and forth. He hurriedly ran around the backside of his car like the insane kid he was.

He went to open her door for her. He offered his hand to her like a gentleman. She smiled at his actions, gladly taking his hand as he escorted her out of the van. He closed the door behind her.

The two of them walked towards her front door. As she began to unlock the front door, he leaned against the door frame. He watched her movements so carefully. He mentally took note of how her hands shook slightly which caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Well, this is me.” Y/n said nervously. She motioned to the door.

“Right,” Eddie nodded. He shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet.

She said a small goodbye before opening the door of her house. She walked into her house, closing the door in a slow motion.

“Wait! Y/n!” Eddie called.

To stop the door from closing, Eddie took a step forward and slammed the flat of his hand against the solid door. He held it open.

“W-would you still be willing to tutor me? I don’t want to fail my class again. I could really use the help…just didn’t know how to ask for it,” Eddie confessed.

“Of course I’ll help you,” Y/n said with a small smile on her face.

“Say tomorrow? Around 3pm?” Eddie suggested.

“Alright,” Y/n agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll see you then.”

Once again, Y/n began to close the door behind her. But Eddie had to ask her one more question. He put his hand out again to stop the door from closing.

“A-And maybe…i-if you want to,” Eddie said slowly. “I could take you out to dinner afterwards,” Eddie offered.

“Eddie Munson,” Y/n said slowly. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Would that be such a bad thing if I was?” Eddie challenged.

“No. It wouldn’t be.” Y/n said with a small shake of the head.

“Great,” Eddie said. “Then it’s a date.”

In response, Eddie could feel the corners of his lips tugging into a broad smile. He stuffed his hands back into his leather jacket pockets.

Out of nowhere, Eddie awkwardly stepped forward and leaned down to her eye height. He pecked his lips against her in the most innocent manner. It was so quick that either of them could really process that it just happened. It only lasted a second.

When Eddie had pulled away, he quickly dropped his gaze to stare down at his feet. He kicked some of the gravel with the heel of his foot. He was trying to bud the evident blush creeping up his face and coloring his cheeks.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/n was also blushing profusely at his action. She popped her lips into her mouth to hide the growing smile from forming in her face. She balanced her height from one leg to the other.

“Alright,” Eddie announced a little louder than normal. He took a step backwards so she could finally close the door. “I‘ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie said.

“For our date,” Y/n confirmed. She watched him take a couple more steps backwards, heading towards his van.

“Yes! For our date,” Eddie repeated. “I’ll see you there.”

“Bye Eddie,” Y/n said. She finally closed the door behind her.

“Goodbye Y/n,” Eddie said to nothing in particular.

As if he didn’t believe what just happened, Eddie spun around on the heels of his feet. He pondered his thoughts carefully, reliving everything that just happened.

In disbelief, Eddie weaves his fingers through his long locks of hair. He smiled to himself, scoffing at the mere idea that he had a date. He hurried to the driver’s side of his car.

Once inside, Eddie closed the door behind him. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Then Eddie jumped enthusiastically in his seat. He cheered to himself in success. It had taken him long enough to work up his courage. Now he’s be reaping the benefits. And he had a date tomorrow night.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson

5K notes · View notes

tkingfisher · 1 year

Note

I have a question I just thought of. I remember reading that the potato is something that you can discuss at length. I'm curious about the Irish potato famine (as it's called by many people) of 1845 - 52. The potato blight killed a whole load of potatoes, and blight warnings are still a thing today. But... honestly, why? Was just one variety of potato grown? If not, wouldn't different varieties have resisted? The only thing I'm even remotely familiar with is Panama Disease, which is killing off Cavendish bananas because they're all genetically identical - was that the case for the potatoes being grown at the time?

Oh boy. Okay, this is a huge complicated topic and I can only do the Cliff Notes version and even that is absurdly long, but here we go.

The cause of the Irish Potato Famine were, in order:

A) the British

B) the British but moreso

C) still the British but also capitalism

and

D) monoculture

I am not nearly so equipped to talk about A-C as many, many other people, so let’s talk about D.

Now, the humble potato is frankly one of the most glorious products of agricultural science ever created, for which we must thank the indigenous people of Peru, who produced some goddamn geniuses at potato breeding (and also figured out how to freeze-dry potatoes centuries before Idahoan.) The Incas had literally thousands of potato varieties, every size, shape, color, growing condition, right down to sacred potatoes only for consumption by the royal family. They did seriously epic shit with a weird little tuber, a feat perhaps only surpassed by the geniuses who made corn out of teosinte.

Quite a long time later—by which I mean about ten thousand years after the potato was domesticated—the Irish were growing a potato variety called the Lumper. It was a big, coarse, ugly-ass potato which apparently didn’t even taste that great. Irish farmers had other potatoes that they liked a lot better! But the Lumper had three things going for it—it gave huge yields, tolerated nutrient-poor soil, and it didn’t mind wet feet.

(Wet feet is the gardening term for plants with their roots in waterlogged soil. Most potatoes do not actually like wet feet and will rot. But the Lumper was fine with it, which meant that basically you could grow the things in poor soggy soil, which large swaths of Ireland had in generous supply.)

Because of a whole lot of really abusive shit by various landowners, a lot of Irish people ended up dependent on the Lumper for their diet, and I mean dependent. You can live for a really long time on cow’s milk and potatoes if you have to, and a potato that would produce massive yields in crappy wet soil was a godsend. So you had vast areas that were planted with just the Lumper. (There are some reports that other, better-tasting potato varieties were grown for the landlords, but while the workers dug them, they were not allowed to eat them. I can’t speak to the truth of this or not, but it’s definitely worth looking up a full history of the socioeconomics of the famine, if you ever happen to be feeling too good about the world and want to be crushed.)

Unfortunately, the Lumper has one other significant trait—it is extremely vulnerable to potato blight, a disease caused by Phytophtora infestans, which is a weird little thing called an oomycete. It’s more like a fungus than it is anything else, but it’s actually in a separate kingdom called Chromista. (Currently, anyway. Taxonomy is where idealistic young scientists go to become old before their time.) Nevertheless, for our purposes, let’s just call it a fungus. (Also, Chromista is a great name for an alicorn in My Little Pony.)

P. infestans loooooves members of the Solanum clan, which include tomatoes and potatoes. This love is not returned. In a tomato, it’s usually called late blight, in a potato, it’s potato blight, no matter what you call it, it’s bad news. It likes damp, cool conditions, and of course Ireland is basically one big damp cool condition, so once the blight got established, it was in heaven.

Blight on a potato takes about five days from start to finish. This sucker is FAST. One day there’s a blotch on a leaf, next day there’s some whitish stuff under a leaf, then the tubers are suddenly turning black and mushy and stink to high heaven. You may even think you got a good tuber and put it in storage and then you open the door to the root cellar and the whole bin has rotted practically overnight.

The spores can spread by wind, and once it landed on a potato plant, all it needed was like two days above fifty degrees with high humidity, and it was off and running. And it gets in the soil. But worst of all, it lives in the tubers themselves.

Potato cultivars, for those who don’t know, are almost always a clone of the parent. All Yukon Golds are basically the same Yukon Gold. You pop a tuber off a plant, you pop it in the ground, it grows another plant just like the first one, asexual reproduction at its finest.*

Now, potatoes can and do set seed, but there’s some variation even in a seed with two parents of the same variety. Two Yukon Golds might give you Yukon Goldish. Mix up multiple varieties and you don’t always know what you’re gonna get.** (I have grown potatoes from mixed seed and thus made my own cultivars, it’s fun, but the results are wildly variable. Some don’t set tubers at all, some contain high levels of solanine.***)

If you want specific, uniform varieties that all perform the same way, you probably use the tubers. More importantly, tubers start growing right away once you wake them up, whereas potato seedlings can be finicky and often won’t do anything impressive the first year.

To make matters more confusing, the little tuber clones are referred to as seed potatoes.

Anyway, back to the blight. Everybody was growing from little tuber clones, which could be infected with the blight. This means that if your seed potatoes are infected with blight, even if they look fine, if you plant them, your whole crop is infected. The minute you get a cool wet day, the oomcyte wakes up and goes to town. And if you leave an infected potato in the ground, it infects everybody else—and if you’ve ever dug potatoes, you know that you always, always miss one.

Well. The blight came, it hit the Lumper, and it spread like wildfire. The Lumper grew in the wet conditions the blight loved, and was also really susceptible to it, so it was a match made in hell. There were potato varieties even then that were more resistant to the blight, but they were tiny islands and a sea of blight was washing over them daily, so they eventually succumbed. Even if you planted a different potato, if it was in soil that had previously held the Lumper, it was likely doomed.

This is the problem with monocultures. You plant all one variety and it’s susceptible to some particular bug, when that bug hits, you have no fall back position. And potatoes, being more or less clones, are even more vulnerable than most seed-grown crops, and this bug is particularly nasty and the spring of ‘45 was exactly the right weather and the British government was being particularly evil and ultimately a million people starved to death because of a perfect storm.

The Lumper still exists. Somebody turned up some heirloom seeds back in 2008 and grew them out, and what they got is probably pretty close to the original. Being seed grown, it doesn’t carry the blight. It’s an ugly, watery, kinda waxy potato that even its champions think tastes sorta okay, I guess. Cultivariable, one of the few sources I can find, says that in addition to not being resistant to blight, it’s not resistant to anything else either, and there’s not much point in trying to grow it unless you have long dry summers and no local blight.

And that is the saga of the Lumper, the blight, and why I personally always plant at least four varieties of potato.

* There’s some subtleties here, but for layman’s purposes, we’ll go with this.

** It’s actually way complicated, but this is already hella long.

*** Same stuff that makes green potatoes toxic. Super bitter, so you know right away it’s inedible and spit it out. We still refer to taste-tasting the new crop from seed as “the Potato Suicide Pact” but it’s not actually dangerous.

#gardening #potatoes #potato famine #long #agriculture

1K notes · View notes

malleusarcanum · 10 months

Text

⚠️: make sure you're not eating

Mc: *pulled the wrist of Sebek vigorously* you owe me a brief discussion about-

Sebek: Human! Why would you come up with such uncommon subject.

Mc: What? I haven't said much...

Sebek: don't underestimate my knowledge my human friend. I already know what your discussions about.

Mc:....

Sebek: do you really want to discuss this.

Mc: Ahh.. yes that's what I'm here for

Sebek: Well if that's what you desire

Mc: ???

*Sebek looked at his pants and starts to unlock his belt*

Mc: what are you doing?

Sebek: discussing about my brief---

*almost unziping his pants*

Mc:what?!!! THE HECK!! THATs NOT IM---

*stopped after hearing the creak of the door then looked who opened it*

Riddle: Disgraceful...

Trey : Why only...the two of you?

Deuce: What..

Cater: the...

Ace: F***

Vil: the bird is ready to soar

Rook: Je n’en reviens pas!

Epel: the horror

Jack:?!

Leona: Why not mine?

Ruggie: Not the time for those

Azul: My contracts are available for memory erasure...

Floyd: this is more worse than on tv

Jade: you just said what's on my mind.

Ortho: hey I can't see! *Jeered while struggling to take off Idia's hand on his eyes*

Idia: some things in this world are not meant for little ones

Jamil: We should have rescheduled this meeting

Kalim: So that's why they're missing

Silver: I wish this is just a dream.

Lilia: Mc! Sebek! How could you?!!!

Mc: T-this was j-just a misunderstanding!!

Jade: tsk, tsk tsk looks like she is no longer innocent

Floyd: Off all creatures?! Why Sebek!

Sebek: Well she said about brief discussions....

*all of their heads turned to Mc waiting for an explanation with eyes almost aching to kill*

Mc: not in a literal way!!! it means I need to talk to him about something!!!

All of them: about? *Eyes still fixing on Mc with disbelief*

Mc: about..... * Doesn't want to tell the secret only Sebek knows. That they broke the queen of hearts statue.*

Leona: alright I'll forgive you as long as you ask mine?

Riddle: as if she'd ask to a potato sack.

Ruggie: speak for yourself tomato head!

Ace: No one talks to riddle like that! Except me...

Jack: were you saying something? *Said while punching his fist together*

Deuce: Why can't you shut your mouth in times of trouble? *whispered to ace*

Ace: I can't stop when I'm pissed!

Deuce: then control yourself! I'm not a babysitter watching out a kid bragging nonsense.

*they started to fight and all of them watched as they do*

*Floyd secretly hold the hand of mc out of the meeting room*

Floyd: Let's get out of here shrimpy

Lilia: Hey! Where'you taking her?!

*Lilia's voice is too loud it reached everyone's ears and their eyes fumed once they saw Floyd ready for battle*

Vil: So this is a battle to whom apple will do it.

Mc: D*mmit just stop the nonsense

Azul: can't hold back to such divine price

Kalim: Charge!

*they fought at each other, throwing various magic while speaking sharp interactions that filled the room with war like scenery*

*Mc wrenched it jaws*

Mc: When I count to three and no one stops!

*Thinking of what can make them stop*

Mc: No one will receive a lick on a neck from my own tongue!!!!

Mc: one!

*they already stopped*

Mc: .....

Mc: Curse you d*mn brain

Malleus: Mc! Want to taste my egg!

*exclaimed after entering*

*all of them turned their heads on him ready for another round*

Malleus: what did I miss?

*tilted his head while holding a plate of well cooked and mouth watering omelette*

356 notes · View notes

honeybadgerwritings · 2 years

Text

Never Trust An Elevator

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Requested: “12🧍‍♀️angst with Eddie Munson”

Prompt: “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

Warnings: Angst, Arguments, Public Embarrassment, Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks

Summary: Eddie’s been quite a dick to you lately, can things be mended?

~~~~~~

In all those cliche teen drama movies it was always a given that the nerds and freaks would stick together no matter what. They’d find solace in each other and were accepted. It didn’t matter how weird they were; if they were band kids, math geeks, or video game nerds. They were better than the jocks and preppy girls, and there was a lot less drama. Turns out, real life is actually quite different.

Moments ago you had been happily chatting with everyone at the lunch table and listening to Dustin ramble on about his new D&D campaign. And then Eddie showed up.

He slams his lunch tray down onto the table and takes a seat next to Gareth like he has been for the last four months. You immediately shut your mouth and hang your head low at his presence, playing with the goopy mashed potatoes on your tray. He used to sit next to you. He used to steal food off of your tray. He used to wrap his arm around you while he went on his over the top theatrical spiels about how high school is a waste of time.

He used to.

You have no idea what happened between you and him. You’d been best friends for the longest time, and you’d grown up living next to each other until he moved to the trailer park. But one day four months ago he never came to pick you up before school, and when you confronted him about it after walking three miles, he just started giving you the cold shoulder. You have yet to figure out why.

“So Y/N,” Mike starts, oblivious to your reluctance to speak, “Are you excited to finally join us for the campaign tomorrow?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you in excitement and your heart immediately sinks. You’d missed so many recently and you could tell it was really starting to disappoint them, so you promised them that you would be at this one.

But you couldn’t hold up that promise.

Three months ago your mom had gotten sick. Really sick. She’s been bedridden and unable to work. So you had to not only take up an extra job, but you had to take care of her and your little brother as well. Because of this you had to start backing out of hellfire campaigns to work your shifts or pick your brother up or take care of your mom. But you couldn’t tell any of them that, you didn’t need to burden them with your life problems. You did wish you could tell Eddie though, he would understand. At least the old one would.

“Um,” you nervously rub the back of your neck, trying to figure out how you should say this, “About that actually..” You can practically sense everyone’s disappointment without even looking up. Suddenly, two hands loudly slam onto the table shaking everyones trays, and startling you.

“Let me guess,” Eddie starts, “The princess can’t make it again?” You bite your lip, not looking up to meet his eyes as you slowly shake your head in shame.

“I have something else I need to do-“

“You always do dont you?” Eddie laughs, mocking you, “You just never have time for your friends anymore I guess.” You scoff at his words and shake your head again.

“Yeah as if you’ve been such a great friend recently...” you mumble under your breath. Eddie’s head perked up at that and he glared at you.

“You know what I think boys?” He speaks loudly, standing up onto the table, “I think, that she thinks she’s too good for us.” By now there were a lot of eyes on your lunch table as Eddie loudly declared your betrayal. He slowly walked down the length of it, continuing to speak, “I mean why else would she skip out on our campaigns with no actual explanation?” He mockingly wonders aloud.

“Eddie stop it.” You hiss, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment as almost the whole lunch room was paying attention to this exchange. He only laughs and the rest of the table stares at you with sympathy.

“C’mon Eddie that’s not fair-” Jeff attempts to chime in, only to be cut off by the man himself.

“Oh and what she’s doing is?!” He asks incredulously, “She hardly even shows interest in us anymore, and when she sits here she doesn’t even looks at us, let alone talk to us.” He eventually stops in front of you and you refuse to look up at him, visibly shaking in both embarrassment and anger. Tears prick at your eyes and begin to drip down your cheeks.

“So what else am I supposed to think when she starts breaking promises too?” He squats down in front of you, eyes studying you carefully. “The only possible explanation is that she thinks she’s too good for us....” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You tear your face away from his hold and stand up, angrily grabbing your chocolate milk from your tray and dumping it over his head in the process. The entire lunch room audibly gasps.

“Fuck you Eddie Munson.” You seethe before storming out of the cafeteria.

~~~~~

It was now 7pm and you were shifting through old newspaper articles in the basement of the library. School had ended hours ago and you were incredibly thankful when that last bell rang out, signaling the start of the weekend. Everyone had been staring at you since lunch, and you could only hope that they would forget about what had happened by Monday.

You had a huge essay due next week and you were searching for sources to back up your thesis. You normally weren’t so focused on your grades, but you couldn’t afford to fail your senior year. In the fall you would need to be home to take care of your mom and brother, not retaking Mr. Figs english literature class.

The old elevator in the corner of the room made a loud clanking noise, startling you. The stairs were being remodeled or some stupid shit so people were forced to use the metal death trap if the wanted to come down here. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you realized someone was on their way down, already missing the peace and quiet you had. The doors creaked open and you looked up to find the last person that you wanted to see right now: Eddie.

He’d very obviously showered and changed his clothes since lunch, as there were no remnants of chocolate milk left on him. He looked extremely out of place surrounded by books, magazines, and newspaper articles filled to the brim with information and knowledge. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but you looked away as soon as his eyes met yours, attempting to pretend like he wasn’t there.

“Fancy seeing you here.” he says as the heels of his boots click into the room. You ignore him as you continue digging through different articles, attempting to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Okay...” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. You can tell he feels bad about earlier but you couldn’t care less. He had humiliated you in front of the entire cafeteria over something he had no idea about. You rolled your eyes, continuing to look through the articles you had collected before they were ripped from your hands. You whirled around to find him shuffling through the articles looking very confused. “Eddie! Stop it give them back!”

“You’re actually doing homework?” He asked, obviously surprised.

“So what if I am? It’s none of your fucking business.” You snap at him, feeling incredibly agitated. His eyebrows raised in both surprise and irritation.

“Wow...touched a nerve I guess.” He huffed out, handing the articles back to you. You snatch them from his grip and shove them into your bag, turning away from him to continue digging for the last article that you needed. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head while you did so and you sighed, giving in to your curiosity.

“Do you need something? Or are you just here to stare at me?” You ask, pulling the last article you needed from the filing cabinet and slamming it closed, before turning around to face him. He looked incredibly annoyed at your newfound attitude towards him, but you couldn’t give two shits.

“Well I did come here to apologize, but now I can see that was a mistake on my part.” He snaps at you. You roll your eyes, marching your way over to the elevator. “Yeah it was because I certainly don’t want your fucking apology.”

He scoffs, trailing two steps behind you, not wanting you to get the last word in this ridiculous argument. “You don’t deserve it either. I was right at lunch today wasn’t I? You think you’re too good for us, to good for me?” You enter the elevator and jam your thumb into the ground floor button repeatedly. You wish that the elevator doors would close on him so you could end this stupid bickering, but you unfortunately were not so lucky. You never seemed to be lately.

“I don’t know how the hell you got that stupid idea in your head when you’re the one who stopped being friends with me.” You practically growl at him, watching as he only grows more angry, his voice rising to a yell. The elevator doors close as he does, and the death trap starts to move upwards.

“You’re a selfish fucking brat you know that? I never should have started being friends with you in the first place!” At this point something in you snapped, because how dare he call you selfish. You didn’t know what else to do other than scream,

“Why do you hate me so much?! What did I ever do to you?!”

He freezes for a moment, surprised at your aggressive outburst. His eyes soften significantly and he opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a loud clang. You both stumble as the elevator came to an abrupt stop. The single light overhead began to flicker on and off and your eyes widened in horror.

“No...no no no no, c’mon,” you rush over to the buttons, pressing every single one and praying it would get the elevator moving again, “Please don’t do this please!” You beg the stupid metal death trap, beginning to panic. You shove your finger into the “Help” button over and over again expecting something magical to happen, but to no avail, the elevator was stuck.

Eddie watched your reaction carefully, knowing you were prone to panic attacks, especially when you were feeling claustrophobic. You backed yourself into the corner as your breathing continued to grow faster and faster. He took a careful step towards you arms outstretched.

“Y/N...hey it’s okay-“

“No no no no this is not okay, nothing about this is okay!” You cut him off, clawing at your chest in a panic and sinking down into the corner, hyperventilating. “We’re gonna die in here... oh god we’re gonna fucking die.”

Eddie could tell you were becoming hysteric, falling past the point of reason. He’d seen you like this many times and knew exactly what you needed. He didn’t know if you’d want his help though, especially after what he had done to you today. But as he watched tears stream down your face and your lips tremble in utter terror he decided he didn’t care. Your well-being was more important to him than the possibility of you lashing out at him afterwards.

Your vision was beginning to blur and a loud ringing grew in your ears as you rocked yourself back and forth, the idea of the walls closing in on you only adding to your fear. You barely even register the reassuring words that were being whispered to you or the fact that your body was being maneuvered. Part of you realizes you are in a full blown panic attack, but you can’t slow down and try to calm yourself. Your brain is stuck on autopilot and you can’t stop mumbling incoherently. It isn’t until your wheezing begins to slow that you realize you’re pressed up against someone’s chest, your hearing fading in and out.

“...right here...breathe for me...not leaving...”

Eddie’s voice was fading in and out of your ears as you slowly returned to reality. Your body feels numb, but you try your best to relax. A sharp gasp cuts its way through your throat, and you’re able to get one deep breath of air into your lungs.

“That’s it sweetheart, just like that. Keep taking deep breaths for me.” Eddie comforts you, “I’m right here with you, you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Your back is pressed against his chest as you sit in between his legs. His chin rests on top of your head, and one of his arms is wrapped around you, while he strokes your hair.

After a few more moments your breathing returns to normal, but the ache of dread in your chest remains. You slowly try to pull away from Eddie, realizing he probably doesn’t want to keep holding you as apologies spew from your mouth.

“I-I’m sorry...I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to freak out like that-”

“No no no sweetheart don’t apologize. You’re okay, just let me hold you.” He insists, gently guiding you back towards his chest. You don’t argue, resting your head against him, listening to his heartbeat. A few moments pass before he finally speaks up, his fingers still toying with your hair.

“I don’t hate you...” You don’t say anything, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“To be honest with you I...” he pauses for a second, trying to figure out how to word this, “I never did. Quite the opposite actually.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you sit up, spinning around in his arms to look at him.

“What do you mean?” You ask. He hesitates for a moment, before eventually spilling.

“I...I like you Y/N. A lot more than I should.” Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession, as you try to process this new information.

“But-but why have you been-”

“Such an asshole the last few months?” He finishes your sentence for you, and you nod in response. “Because you really are too good for me.” He says, reaching out to stroke your cheek. You shake your head in confusion and he sighs.

“Everywhere I go, things go wrong and I hurt people. It’s like I’m a walking disease. I mean look at me, I’m 20 years old and still in high school, I live in the trailer park with my uncle, I don’t have a job, I have no plans for college and...and...you, you’re just so perfect. You’re too good for me. You were meant for great things and I know that if I continue to hang around you I’m just going to drag you down with me.”

“So your solution is...to humiliate me in front of the entire cafeteria?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles in response to that, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah well I think you got me beat with the whole dumping chocolate milk on my head thing.” He retorts. You giggle at that, eyes crinkling with joy and he beams at you.

“Yeah well you deserved it.” You tease, giggling some more. He goes silent for a few moments, racking his brain before he carefully takes your hands into his, his thumbs caressing them gently.

“I don’t know if you’ll even want to forgive me, and honestly if you don’t I won’t blame you one bit but I really, truly, am sorry for the way that I’ve been treating you. I never wanted to be the reason that you started pushing everyone away and-”

“Woah woah woah, you’re not the reason I started pushing people away.” You cut him off and he looks at you, incredibly baffled by your words. You sigh and bite your lip wondering how you should put this, “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell any of the others.”

He raises an eyebrow at you as if to say, ‘When have I ever told anyone your secrets?’ But still, he places his hand over his chest and mutters the words, “Scouts honor.”

You give short laugh at his silliness before you begin to explain to him everything that’s been going on at home with your mom, your brother, your two jobs, and focusing more on your education. By the end of it he held his head in his hands, groaning in regret about how stupid he is for not noticing something was genuinely wrong, and instead exploiting your absence for the whole world to see.

“Jesus Christ I’m so fucking stupid.” He groans.

“I won’t deny that,” you tease him, gently smiling, “It’s okay Eddie really, there was no way you could’ve known-”

“But I should’ve known. I should’ve known there was something going on with you instead of avoiding you for my own selfish reasons. I should’ve never started acting like a dick in the first place Y/N.” He shakes his head again before gently taking your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, “I’m so fucking sorry baby. I should’ve never done this to you-”

You cut him off, leaning in to press your lips to his. You know that you’ve caught him off guard when he freezes for a moment, before he eventually gives in, his lips moving sensually with yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, as his hands settle on your waist.

His lips were soft and pillowy against your own, and a warm fuzzy feeling grew in your chest as he tugged you impossibly closer to him. He gently bit down on your bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you caught your breath.

“Holy shit...” he breathed out, “I’ve been waiting to do that since like eighth grade.” You laugh at him, shoving his chest lightly before looking up at him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are a complete and utter idiot.... but I forgive you. Cause your my complete and utter idiot.” He chuckles, leaning in to peck your lips again.

“I still wanna make it up to you somehow.” He states, still feeling slightly guilty. You look up at him, a smirk growing on your lips.

“How about you start sitting next to me at lunch again?” He tosses his head back in a laugh at your words before looking down at you again, smiling, “You’ve got yourself a deal pretty girl.”

The two are you are startled as a muffled voice blares through the overhead intercom, explaining that they’ll have the two of you out of there within 10 minutes. You sigh in relief and Eddie chuckles as you, placing a kiss onto your temple.

“I don’t know... I think we should get stuck in elevators together more often.” You roll your eyes and shove at his chest.

“Like I said Eddie, you’re a complete and utter idiot.”

#fiction #imagines #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #humor #writers #my prompts #dialogue prompts #panic attack #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort

4K notes · View notes

delcakoo · 2 years

Text

sunghoon with a short gf‧₊˚.﹅♛ ｡‧₊

requested <3 ! jay ver ! jake ver ! niki ver !

PAIRING ! sunghoon x f!reader

WC ! 1.2k

GENRE ! fluff fluff fluff, crack + slight suggestive

WARNINGS ! none just hoon being the most annoying ever <3

a/n: bejdhjd this was in my drafts for a while sorry T-T i hope u guys enjoy hoons ver, my man fr :D

well you’ve got yourself an absolute menace for a boyfriend i’m sorry

mf is so tall that you don’t even make it into his line of sight and he’s rEVELLING in this fact

you’re standing right in front of him and he just

“hmm, where’s y/n? i can’t seem to find her..”

“anyone seen my girlfriend? she’s like.. 4’2.. careful you don't step on her!”

probably has your contact name as thumbelina or smthn

please just punCH him please

kidding he wouldn’t even feel your tiny fists 🧌

when you’re trying to y’know

mind your dAmn business

having a peaceful conversation with literally anyone BUT sunghoon

the big baby gets all annoyed that you aren’t paying attention to him so guess what he does

“—and so i explained that i wasn’t going to go with her!” sunoo exclaims to you with crossed arms

“yeah of course,” you agree, “why would you? that’s totally—“

you don't even get to finish because soMEONE has laid a bulky arm on your head like you’re his own personal armrest??!£<%!]?

yup, there's your boyfriend in his stupid white muscle tank top looking down at the two of you

“hey guys 😎😎”

you give him the ‘why am i dating you’ stare

“what?” he smirks, literally challenging you to TRY and fight back, “go on, keep talking tiny people”

you and sunoo take turns punching him ❤️

it has no effect

damned muscle pig

don’t even get hoon started on how much he secretly LOVES his ability to pretty much do whatever he wants with you

“babe, want me to give you cuddles?”

“what? 🤨 not right now, i’m in the middle of cooking this—heY!“

suddenly you’ve been snatched up bridal style as if you’re a ragdoll

“ahh, if you insist, i guess i can spare you some time 😇”

proceeds to throw you on the couch before juMPing ON YOU

giggles the whole time too

“i don’t think i should hug you too tight, how are you so small?”

you wouldn’t mind dying to one of his hugs anyway <3

but please don’t tell him that

hoon never misses an opportunity to make fun of you for being whipped

another example. playing board games and he loses? bro throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

then he takes you to the nearest couch or bed and tickles you WHILE HOLDING BOTH YOUR WRISTS WITH ONE HAND. 😢

he needs to get his ego back somehow after such an embarrassing loss 💔

watches you squirm under him with a dumb smirk, “you’re so pathetic jagi, i need to take you to the gym with me, seriously”

you don’t know if you should be blushing or scowling

speaking of blushing

eventually sunghoon discovered another one of your weak spots

with your height, all you can see is his chest unless you crane your neck up

that is, unless he takes the initiative to bend forward and get right up in your face like some kind of siREN trying to seduce you??

“sunghoon i don’t know how many times i have to tell you,” you frown, rummaging through your empty pantry, “that was MY ramen, and it was supposed to be for when—“

you have to pause because when you look to your left, sunghoon has an elbow on the counter, bent forward to finally be at your height with his face all in in your personal bubble

and on his lips is a big, FAKE innocent pout, brows furrowed and puppy eyes staring straight at you

you know exactly what he’s doing

trying to flirt his way out of his mess as usual

not that it isn’t working of course, especially due to how weird it felt being face to face with your boyfriend without having to practically break your neck

but you still attempt to stand your guard 🙁

“what do you think you’re doing? you think your pretty face will make me forgive you?” you move away nervously, continuing to reorganise the cupboard

that lasted about 2 seconds before the idiot grabs you by your waist and pins you against the kitchen counter

he leans down even further, whispering in your ear, “c’mon.. i said i’m sorry baby, what else should i do to get you to forgive me..?”

you see where this is going and quickly push him away

“okay okay! whatever, buy me some more ramen and i’ll forgive you..” you mutter in defeat

he releases you right away at that, cheering in victory ☹️ sigh

your weak spot for him never fails to resurface at the worst times

even when other people tease you and he just JOINS IN

you’ll be at the dorms laying on the couch with hoon and niki (the absolute WORST combination, god bless you) watching a movie

and conveniently enough it just happened to be ‘tall girl’

listen

it was for the shits and giggles, but of course mr dumb and mr dumber next to you took every opportunity to make fun of you

niki would punch your shoulder (for what reason sir??) “y/n, she’s like you in an alternate universe!”

your BOYFRIEND immediately laughs in agreement, “maybe if you stack 3 y/n’s on top of each other, it’d equal the height of this girl”

LIKE THROUGH THE WHOLE MOVIE THOSE TWO ARE MAKING THESE DUMB COMMENTS 😭

eventually you save yourself though <3

“sunghoon if you make another stupid comment you’re sleeping on the damn couch tonight 😊”

niki ofc is all “ooOoooooOooHh 😱😱😱😹😹”

meanwhile bro is flabbergasted, “what?! but niki was doing it too!”

“is he my boyfriend??”

“you wish i was—“

sunghoon punches him 😁

but but every once in a while hoon makes sure you know he really does love you for how you are despite all the teasing :c

it’s usually in pretty subtle ways like just. trying to be your one and ONLY assistant

“hey hee, can you reach that plate for—“

“DID somEone SAY hoon can you get that plate? why of course princess!”

before you can protest it’s in your hand already 🧌

“…thanks hoon”

heeseung in the distance shakes his head, muttering about how whipped this man is for you

another time hoon found you crying in the bathroom after a rather unfortunate incident earlier that day

someone SOMEHOW thought you were his little sister due to your height difference

hoons usually very shy with strangers but this time he was NOT pleased

of course he didn’t wanna start anything in public

but he was absolutely passive aggressive

wraps a protective arm around your waist, “uh, no this is my girlfriend actually.” 😐🤨

when he found you crying he literally felt his heart shatter and quickly ran up behind you

back hugs you and whispers softly against your neck

“who cares what those single losers think, you know you’re perfect for me right? you make me feel so useful, always failing to reach everything.. needing my help..”

you laugh through your tears at that, making sunghoon smile as well

“.. it’s okay when i tease you right?”

you quickly nod, “yeah, just not when anybody else does it”

inside his heart just bursts :c

he nods in agreement, “damn right”

hugs for my shorties part 3 🫂🫂🫂 !!

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated and motivating for me to write more :)

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @lov3niki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @l1lac-dreamer @kodzukii @yjjungwon @miou45

2K notes · View notes