#and then you dig a little bit and realize he thinks killing someone is a neat efficient way to resolve most conflicts :| | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

souliebird · 4 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || Ch. 32]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3k🌶️

ao3 link

The billboard across the street shifts from casting a blue glow into Matt’s apartment to a warm purple one. It is bright enough for you to be able to see your keyboard, but low enough that everything is still in shadow. You can maneuver around easily enough, which makes it the perfect level considering you are apparently the only one in your family who needs light to do so.

Paired with the overall lack of decor, it fosters a nice working environment, with the ambience of the city providing the perfect background noise.

You have a fair bit of invoicing to catch up on, so you have set yourself up at the dining table as Matt readies himself for his own night of working. Luckily, all the excitement of temporarily moving into a new place left your little Mouse exhausted and getting her down to sleep was as easy as it has ever been. You wish you would be able to go off to Dreamland as quickly as she does, but you know your brain won’t let you drift off without hours and hours of worrying first.

“You don’t need to wait up for me,” Matt says for about the millionth time. He’s changed mostly into his red Devil suit, and it still baffles you how different he looks in it versus his Lawyer suit. It is like he’s been possessed or switched out with a twin - it’s not necessarily evil but it is a completely different aura. All his fun and charm has been replaced with a caged animal ready to rip someone’s throat out, and you just happen to be his keeper who he knows isn’t a threat. He’s of no danger to you, but anyone outside these walls is fair game.

“I have about forty emails to answer and even more orders to review and this is the only time I’ll be able to sit down and focus on doing all that. These are my working hours, too,” you reply as you finish connecting your VPN. “Plus, I’ll be up worrying until you are home safe. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“No killing anything,” he chides, his voice dropping an octave. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you are starting to think you may like this Devil-y side of Matt.

“You know I can’t even kill a cockroach.”

He huffs from across the room, then in a few long strides, he’s behind you, putting his large, gloved hands on your shoulders and rubbing at them, “I mean it. If you finish before I’m back, try to get some sleep. You need it.”

You let your head fall forward and enjoy the way his thumbs dig into your muscles. “I need to make sure I get my work hours logged. When you get home, we can both get some sleep.”

Behind you, a pleased rumble comes from Matt’s chest. He bends forward and nuzzles just above your ear, whispering in that deep voice that makes your core clench, “call it ‘home’ again.”

Your eyes flutter shut as your entire being heats up again. It isn’t just his voice and actions - it's the implication of his request - that he wants a home with you. He wants your home to be here with him. You can’t even take a moment to think about it, because you just want to please the Devil behind you.

“Come home to us.”

He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply while his hands tighten on your shoulders. He nods after a moment, then you feel him have to force himself to step away.

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear on my life.”

You resist the urge to follow after him and say something cheesy or dramatic. You stay planted in your seat instead, eyes still closed and breathing through your nose, trying to calm your fast beating heart.

Matt strides back to where his gloves and helmet wait for him, and you listen as he dons the last pieces of his armor. Only when he has fully become the Devil do you let yourself speak again, hoping to encourage the beast coming to life inside of him.

“Keep the Kitchen safe. For me. For Minnie.”

----

It’s closing in on three am when you hear the crunch of boots on gravel coming from the roof above you. You expected Matt to be home closer to one in the morning, but that was just a time you made up.

Your emails are still on your screen, so you close them out and clock out just as the door on the landing opens and the Devil returns to the apartment. There is a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and you scrunch up your nose in confusion as he makes his way down the stairs.

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” he growls out and you can instantly tell the poor man is exhausted.

You are up and out of your seat in an instant, making your way to him with your water bottle in hand. You hold it out to him as he comes to a stop in front of you and he quickly drops the bag to his feet in exchange for chugging the rest of your water.

“I told you I had a lot of work. Are you okay? What is with the - “You cut yourself off as the light coming from the billboard changes from red to yellow and you see there is a slice of suit missing from Matt’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

You don’t give him the chance to deny or explain - you turn and hurry back to the kitchen to get the first aid kit.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles from behind you. You hear something thunk on the ground and assume it is his helmet. “It went through and through.”

The words take a second to process and color drains from your face as they do. “You were shot?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. “I just need to wrap it.”

You yoink the first aid kit down from where it’s hidden in a cabinet and whirl back around the face Matt. He’s removed his helmet and gloves and is in the process of taking off his boots. Your mind swirls into overdrive, flying back to your binder pages about gunshot wounds and you find yourself huffing at the Devil as practicality fills you.

“Wrap it?” You almost scold as you march back to him. His head jerks up and his brows furrow, but your Mom Mentality is quicker than the Devil. “You can’t just wrap it; it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what is dripping off your suit into it. You can’t punch away an infection, Matt.”

His face slackens into confusion as you move to squat in front of him so you can open the kit and begin to rummage through it.

“What..?”

“I need to clean it,” you repeat as you inspect the meager contents of the kit. “And disinfect it. I’m not very good at stitches yet, but you have butterfly stripes,” you hold up the pack as you find it and continue your rambling, “and gauze, so we can wrap it, and hopefully that should be good enough. Do you know what caliber it was? Was it a hollow point?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, and you assume he is trying to remember what happened. You focus on reading the different packets you pick up, setting aside wipes and antibiotic ointments. If it was through and through, you shouldn’t have to get out any debris, but you add the tweezers to your pile anyway. Your mind is a step-by-step checklist of everything you need and you really hope all your studying has prepared you for your first real wound cleaning. You are a pro at scraped knees and paper cuts, but a bullet wound is a completely different level.

“What?” Matt repeats and you look up to see he looks completely dumbfounded. “You…aren’t angry?”

It is your turn to be confused.

“Why…would I be angry?” you ask slowly, trying to understand why he is asking. “You..didn’t mean to get shot, did you?” He shakes his head slowly, and your lips turn down into a frown. “Then..I’m not angry.”

You slowly sit yourself down and cross your legs, trying to process your own feelings around your Fix It and Make Things Better thoughts, “I’m scared that you got hurt. And I’m worried..I worry about you every night when you go out, but this…this is small, right? It’s through and through and in your arm and you aren’t bleeding everywhere, and you are standing on your own. You’re…you’re okay. You’re hurt. You’re hurt. But you’re okay…you’re okay and I just need to make sure you stay okay.” Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head to chase them away. “Please let me make sure you are okay.”

Slowly, Matt kneels in front of you and takes your face in his hands. He thumbs away a tear that managed to escape before leaning in to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, the Devil gone from his voice, and he sounds so so tired. “I’m okay, my darling. Let me get out of this and you can clean it, yeah? Then we can go to bed.”

You press into his touch, needing it to ground you and help you keep your emotions in check.

Matt’s hurt, but he is okay. It’s just a little wound, something you can handle. You know he is going to get hurt, going out and acting as a vigilante, and it isn’t always going to be bruises and split knuckles.

People shoot at him. They try to stab him. They might have weird fire breath or laser beams.

He’s going to get hurt, but right now he is okay. He just needs to be patched up and that is something you can do.

You’ve been practicing and studying to make sure he will stay okay.

You take a shaky breath and center yourself, then let your lips turn up into a small smile, “You’re all sweaty, you need a shower before bed. Or Minnie will complain that you are stinky in the morning.”

Matt huffs a small laugh and tips his head up to kiss your forehead. “Well, according to her my whole apartment is stinky and dusty and cold.”

“That’s why we are playing housekeeper tomorrow,” you whisper as he pulls away.

You allow yourself to wipe your eyes with your nightshirt as Matt removes the rest of his armor, leaving him in just his boxers. You then focus on double checking all the items you’ve gathered, letting your mind go back into Practical mode versus Emotional.

“Why do you have a duffel bag?” you finally ask, curious as to what he had been up to all night and why he has a new accessory.

Matt gives a quiet groan, then begins to explain as he sits himself in front of you. “I found an abandoned…lab is the only way I can put it, in one of the utility tunnels. I guess it got flooded out with all the rain and whoever was running it was clearing it out. When I got there, there was only one guy.” As he talks, you begin to clean his wounds, and you are not surprised at how stoic he remains despite the stinging of antiseptics. “I think he was just grabbing files, and that is what is in the bag. Paper files and what I think are thumb drives. I’m not too sure.”

You look up in time to see him turn his lips down into a hard scowl. “The whole place reeked of human blood, though. Not fresh - stale. And there were cages. It was just a few rooms, but someone was definitely up to no good down there.” He flexes his fingers, then says your name softly. “I think it was some sort of government agency. The gun the guy had was standard issue for the FBI and the way he moved was in line with their training, but it didn’t feel like the FBI. It felt more advanced and after everything with Fisk I don’t think they’d try something twice here so close together. But in my gut, it’s telling me this isn’t something like the Hand or something underground.”

You turn to look at the simple bag laying on the floor, your heart sinking as you take it in. You trust Matt’s gut with this - this is not his first rodeo, and he has so much more information about all of this than you ever will.

“Do you want me to read them for you?”

He shakes his head, “No. Well.. yes, but no. I think this is something I need to take to everyone - Foggy, Karen, Frank, Jessica. Another piece of the puzzle of what has been going on lately. I think we all have different parts, and we need to start looking at what fits together.” He pauses, rolls his lip between his teeth. “I’d like for you to be there, too..if you’d like. I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You aren’t out there, like we are but..I’m dragging you into this just by being with you. I…”

He stops, and turns to fully face you, pulling his bicep from your grasp so he can cup your jaw with his other hand. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“I can’t risk losing you. If you being in the know and understanding everything that is going on is what is going to keep you safe - keep Minnie safe - then I can’t lie to you and I can’t hide anything. But I need you to understand that there is a risk of knowing what lurks in the shadows. It is your choice; I want it to be your choice. I need you to be okay, too.”

You don't need to let the words turn over in your mind - you know your answer. “I want to be there. I want to help, even if it is just helping you talk through things. You don’t need to hide things from me. I…I understand what you are doing.” You mimic him and reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb so lightly over his lower lip. “I just want you to be safe, Matt. I want you to come home at night.”

You purposefully use the word, knowing it triggered a reaction before.

It does again.

His eyes flutter close, and he kisses your finger gently.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he breathes out before swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and you wonder if he wants to say more.

Do you want him to say more?

You don’t know.

You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it.

You just want Matt to be safe and right now that means finishing wrapping his bicep. You let your thumb linger on his lip for a moment before pulling away, “I’m almost done with your arm. I..I think it doesn’t need stitches. Everything here should be plenty.”

“Okay,” he whispers as you hand drops, and he turns so you can apply butterfly strips to the holes in his bicep.

You let your mind fall back to your guides as you wrap the gauze, mentally picturing exactly what you need to do while also making mental notes about directions you need to change and products you need to buy to fill out Matt’s first aid kit. While he has apparently been so much better at taking care of himself, his supplies are a bit lacking.

As you finish, you hesitate before leaning in and placing a small kiss over the entrance wound, mumbling as you do, “Minnie would admonish me if I didn’t add a kissie for extra healing.”

“She is the Doctor,” Matt replies gently, and you can’t help but smile.

You start to repack the first aid kit as Matt pushes up into standing to gather his own gear. You both clean in a comfortable silence and only once everything is put away, does Matt come back to you.

“Shower with me?” He asks, his voice soft and low and your whole body quivers for him.

You don’t reply with words. You take his offered hand, and he leads you to the small room.

The two of you can barely fit in the shower together, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you are under the water, you are one.

Matt cups your jaw with both hands as he kisses you like he is savoring every microsecond. It is slow and languid, and you melt together so easily. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his closer, like you want to absorb him because maybe you do. Maybe you want him to absorb you, because you are safe in his arms, and nothing will ever hurt you or make you cry if he is there.

You have Matt Murdock, and you have the Devil and he has you.

You don’t know if it's hours or minutes or days that pass before one callused hand drops to your thigh and with the lightest of touches, urges it up. Once it is around his waist, Matt rocks forward and slides into you with no resistance.

His pumps are as slow as his kisses and you lose yourself in him. If you could think, you would imagine he is lost in you as well, but the only thing on your mind is the pleasure he is bringing you and how perfectly full you feel.

His name is falling from your lips over and over, breathless and needy, but not for a release - just for him and it is like he knows that. His head drops to your shoulder, and he buries his nose into your throat, his lips moving in words barely heard above the spray of the shower.

Your name.

Mine.

Yours.

Perfect.

Please.

God.

Love.

((“I love you.”))

((“I love you, too.”))

---

:) <3

---

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @astridstark13 @hashcakes

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal

@allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

#soulie writes #fanfiction #and then i met you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you

249 notes · View notes

blackbirdsblackberries · 9 months ago

Note

I saw your Anti Hero reader and man, it was really good. Since you asked in the post if family should be Yandere, I think you should. Just think about it, maybe Bruce (Maybe he's already a Yandere, maybe not) is forcing the kids to make you an "ally" (family member), so they start investigating and discover that you have a lot in common with them

Maybe your parents died and that makes Dick think you called Bruce dad, due to the absence of your own parents (he sees you as a version of him without Bruce).

Maybe Jason will find information about how you were abandoned and betrayed by your uncles, throwing you onto the deadly streets of Gotham (he wants to protect you so you don't end up like him).

Maybe Tim figured out that you wanted to be like Batman in the past, helping people, but you lost hope in his no-kill rule, and now he wants to bring you back to the right path (He thinks you're like him, deciding to use your life to help people, even if it's the "wrong" way).

And maybe Damian will find out that all the money you earned when you got paid and what you earned in your mercenary job, was donated to animal refugees AND children's hospitals, starting to see the good things his father sees in you (the little rascal is just jealous AND wants the same affection that you give to those children in the hospital).

Anyway This is just an idea I had, your post really inspired me so I wanted to share it with you and see what you think.

I hope you have a good day AND take care of yourself.

🍁Anon

Are you psychic? You have to be. I was thinking that while writing the mini story!!

Dick, once he digs deeper and figures out you're an orphan/your parents are shit, will immediately compare him as a child to you! So pure, untainted, energetic. You haven't seen the true ways of the world... (You have, he just wants to delude himself into thinking you haven't) He has to protect you from that. Plus, if you see Bruce as a father figure that makes Dick your big brother! Big brother's protect their little siblings, right? Have you not watched any shows with an older sibling? (No, all the ones with good sibling dynamics don't count. They're wrong.)

Jason's pity for you returns but in a different way. You were discarded onto the streets with no one to care for you due to some situation, you didn't deserve that. Jason would spiral from there; what would have happened if Joker saw you while you were on the streets and defenseless back then? Joker could have killed you like he did Jason! Whenever Jason fights someone and it has civilian casualties he'll start imagining it's you and will go absolutely feral. You won't protect yourself as well as you think you can, you're just a child! (You're in your late teens - early twenties but there's no need to mention that, he won't listen either way).

Tim's already done tons of research but the key bit of information sticks with him. He doesn't know why but it strikes a match that won't burn out. He can fix you, he can help you, he can be your support. You don't have to go down the path of killing, you can be good and save lives! Sure, you need his help and love but he's more than willing to give it to you (Delusional). If you're so much like him then that means you need him to help you! Just let him help you. Don't fight it.

Damian doesn't come around easily due to preconceived ideas. It's when he's made to follow you one night that he realizes how great you are, how you'd make a great big sibling. You would've entered an animal shelter to care for the animals in the morning then go to the children's hospital to volunteer during midday. He feels envious each day he watches you treat random kids as if they actually meant something to you. (Maybe they do, it's just best that Damian believes they don't).

#dc #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #yandere #yandere dc #dc robin #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #dc fanart #platonic yandere #yande.re #blackbirds feathers

439 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 19 days ago

Text

THE PHILOSOPHY OF KAGURABACHI

So, Kagurabachi is my favorite manga in shonen jump right now, but my enjoyment of it comes from a different place than most people's. While I liked the first chapter, the manga did not really click for me until chapter 17 when Chihiro was forced to recognize that his enemy had interpreted the actions of his dead father entirely differently, and he was fighting with a conviction too, even if Chihiro did not agree with that conviction.

Since then, Chihiro has slowly been changing his outlook on the world from a simple avenger to acknowledging the complexity of the world around him and this is the most interesting aspect to me - Chihiro and his changing beliefs over the course of the story.

I have been waiting in anticipation for Chihiro's reaction to learning the truth about the war, and the genocide one of the sworsman carried out with his father's weapon. We see his reaction this chapter and I was a little bit surprised to say the least.

Chihiro states that it's wrong to kill all five of the sword-bearers in order to disarm the nukes essentially, remove the potential for anyone else to cause another disaster and wipe out hundreds of thousands of more people. This seems inconsistent with something that has been Chihiro's belief since chapter one, his entire mission is to take his father's swords back in order to make sure they never end up in the wrong hands and can't be used to hurt innocent people.

I had to ask my friend @kaibutsushidousha for Chihiro's reasoning here, but thankfully Comun is really smart and has good taste:

I feel like Chihiro is extremely influentiable. He has a lot of moral opinions inside his head, but can only use one at a time. And the one he holds changes easily depending on the most recent thing people tell him. What he's currently holding is how much he relates to Iori, so he's in it to prevent Iori from losing a father like he did Only once that's resolved that he can start thinking about his other moral opinions that conflict with this one.

When I read that I returned to the question of: what are Chihiro's morals? I finally realized the answer that Chihiro is practicing what we call moral relativism. If we dig in a little deeper we can see some of the ethics and morality that Kagurabachi is exploring in the story as a whole.

LETS TALK ABOUT ETHNICS

Moral philosophy is defined by the oxford dictionary as "sign up to pay a $9.99 subscription in order to read the rest of this article."

Moral philosophy is the study of morals. What people do, how should they act, what principles should guide their lives. Which started out all the way back with Plato who argued for the "form of the Good." Plato was theorizing on where higher-minded ideas like "justice" comes from and his conclusion is that these ideas exist as "Forms", perfect, eternal, and changeless concept existing outside of space and time.

Plato asserts that goodness is a force outside of us, that pushes us to strive towards things like justice. His argument essentially that good is inherent, that people possess the spirit of good inside of them and that drives them to seek out good.

This is what you would refer to as moral absolutes. That morals exist outside of us and they are absolute rules we should follow. "Goodness" isn't just an idea, it's a force which compels us to do good.

Rules like "Don't kill people" are absolute. They don't exist because someone wrote down in a law that it was bad to kill people, but because the moral principle of "don't kill people" is universal and should be followed by everyone.

The question is if these moral principles are absolutes then where do they come from? Plato put forward the idea of an objective moral order linked to a transcendent reality, while Aristotle believed that morality came from objectivity and human nature.

Under Christian doctrine morals are also absolute and there is an idea of good which we all strive for, but the reason those morals are absolute is because they are given to us by god. "Don't kill people" becomes "Thou must not Kill."

The opposite of moral absolutism that morals exist as a set of rigid principles that exist outside of us, is moral relativism. Moral relativists assert that there are not "objective" morals, usually following two basic principles.

1. Moral judgments are true or false and actions are right or wrong only relative to some particular standpoint (usually the moral framework of a specific community). 2. No standpoint can be proved objectively superior to any other. [SOURCE].

If I say "killing people is wrong no matter what the situation because human life has inherent value", I'm arguing for moral absolutism. If you rebuttal with "Chihiro was killing human traffickers, who if they had lived would have created more victims" that is an argument for moral relativism.

To dive deeper into moral relativism though, let's explore one of the biggest critics of moral philosophy.

In Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to the Philosophy of the Future, Nietzsche rejected the works of all of the moral philosophers that had come before him, especially to Plato who argued for that "form of goodness." He took a special offense to the idea that good and evil and in the first place. Nietzsche suggested the modern man and the modern philosopher needed to reject good and morality entirely.

"Let us not be ungrateful toward it, althought it must certainly be admitted that the worst, most drawn-out, and most dangerous of errors hitherto has been a dogmatist error- namely, Plato's invention of the Pure Spirit and the Good as such. But now that it has been overcome, when Europe, rid of this nightmare, can again breathe freely and at least enjoy a healthier sleep - we, whose duty is wakefulness itself, are the heirs of all strength which the struggle against this error has fostered. turning the truth on its head and denying perspectivism itself, the fundamental condition of life, to speak of the Spirit and the Good as Plato of spoke.

Nietzsche's took particular umbrage with the idea that good is fundamental and innate. That these are not concepts just made up, but they just exist... somewhere.

"Here we need to learn to think differently, as we have learned to think differently about heredity and "innateness."

In Nietzsche's viewpoint humans aren't rational creatures striving towards some objective good, but rather they are extremely subjective, and all of them fallible to their own personal biases. People aren't driven by the spirit of good, they are driven by emotions and instincts, and their own personal values.

"Conversely, in the philosopher there is absolutely nothing impersonal; and expecially his morality furnishes a decided and decisive testimony as to who he is - that is to say, in what order the innermost drives of his nature relate to others.'

One of these most important drives is what Nietzsche labeled "the drive to power", but it could also be translated as the "drive to agency".

"A living being seeks above all else to discharge its strength - life itself is will to power - self-preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent results thereof."

A lot of the material covered in this book is a criticism of christian doctrine, which puts forth that we must follow these absolute morals because they are imposed on us by god. Nietzsche pointed out and rightly so that for a large chunk of european history, a peasant class has been ruled over tightly by an aristotcratic class, one that is supported by the church.

His explanation for why the peasants never rebelled against the aristocrats and why this structure remained in place is that christianity wishing to keep the lower class complacent began espousing morals about "turning the other cheek" and "the meek should inherit the earth". Suffering under the boot heel of the rich and not fighting back became a moral virtue. In Nietzsche's mind the church has hoodwinked the general population into believing that instead of rising to power they should remain powerless and suffering in this lifetime, for the reward of happiness in some theoretical afterlife.

"From the beginning, Christian faith is a sacrifice: sacrifice of all freedom, all pride, all self-confidence of spirit; at the same time it is enslavement, self-mockery, and self-mutilation."

I'm not going to go into religious philosophy, but I do think these are important questions to ask. Why does the church tell us we shouldn't envy our neighbor? Why does the church tell us we should not desire for more than we have?

You could apply this very easily to the modern day. Several christians say that trans people are immoral, because god says there are only two genders and these two genders are absolutes there is no wiggle room. Not only is being transgender immoral, but also they have the right to create laws regulating what people do to their own bodies. Governments have to make laws violating people's personal autonomy like this for the greater good? But, for who's greater good is this?

Nietzsche's describes the origin of christian morals as master and slave morality herren- und sklavenmoral. Master and Slave morality has some negative connotations so let's try to explain this using memes instead.

[Source]

Nietzsche's assertion was that the chads of the world don't listen to the church and the people in power telling them that suffering is righteous, that they should fast, and stay impoverished. That they should not make a morality of suffering like it is some kind of virtue.

"It cannot be helped: we must mercilessly call to account and bring justice he sentiments of surrender, the sacrifice for one's neighbor, and all self-renunciation-morality ... There is far too much magic and molasses in these sentiments "for others" and "not for myself" for us to not have to be doubly distrustful...

The chads of the world are out there employing chad morality. They are goated enough to invent their own morals, to think for themselves, and assert their own power. Not only is the nietzschian viewpoint that morality is relative, but also that a free thinker must create their own morals.

Which is where we finally tie this back into the manga, is Chihiro as a character following Nietzschian principles? Is he employing Chad morality to become a truly goated individual?

Has he taken the steps beyond good and evil?

Well, to start with you would have to ask what Chihiro's morals are which is a hard question to answer because they are not consistent. Early on he states that the swords are to: defeat evil and protect the weak. He definitely believes that evil exists.

However, he doesn't view them as absolutes. He admits himself that murder his horrible, that killing people makes him a monster and therefore evil, but he also believes that this evil is killing others can be done to commit good.

There's a pretty obvious contradiction in Chihiro's ideals. He is simultaenously both a killer, but also a hero protecting others. He maintains that same paradoxical view of his father and the other sword-bearers, they are responsible for the deaths of countless people but they are still: "heroes." Chihiro may be going to hell for everyone he has killed, but there's still a nobility to what he is doing.

The idea of going to hell and being punished for his evil means he knows on some level murder is horrible and he'll eventually face punishment for it, but he is going to do it anyway even if he goes to hell?

Is there a paradox to this statement? How can one be a hero and a murderer at the same time? For Nietzsche there isn't. Nietzsche would argue that following christianity's ideas of meekness and turning the other cheek you can never be a hero, and the only way to be a hero is to transgress.

That the only people truly capable of being heroic are not those who passively turn the other cheek, but those who have the strength to to fight back and assert themselves.

"A man who seeks to achieve goathood, looks upon every one whom he encounters on his way either as a means of advance or a delay and hindrance - or as a temporary resting-place. His characteristic, lofty kindness to his fellow-men is only possible once he has reached the height from which he rules."

So, let's touch briefly upon Chihiro's choices again. Chihiro's father is murdered and he is left alive with a scar, and all the blades his father made to end the war are stolen by criminals except for one. Chihiro could have gone into witness protection like Iori and lived a normal life. You could see that in one of two ways, Chihiro is deciding to be above revenge and trying not to continue the cycle of harm. Or you could see it as Chihiro passively accepting all of the harm that's done to him, shutting up and taking it instead of choosing to fight back against the evil done to him.

Chihiro has a second choice which is assert his will-to-power, and evolve into Chadhiro someone who has the power to fight for what he believes is moral.

A man who says: "I like that, I take it as my own. nd will guard and protect it from everyone", a man who can conduct a case, carry out a resolution, remain true to an idea, keep hold of a woman, punish and overthrow insolence, a man who has his indignation and his sword, and to whom the weak, the suffering, the oppressed and even the animals willingly submit and naturally belong; in short, a man who is a master by nature- when such a man has sympathy well! That sympathy has value.

Because Chihiro embraced Chad morality and became the Chadhiro, he gained the power and strength to help people, people who would not have been helped if he did not decide to become an avenger.

So you may ask in the first chapter what does it matter that Chihiro did not quibble over slaughtering human traffickers in the first chapter? He was using his power to do what he thought was right, killing criminals in order to prevent them from selling any more human beings in the future.

Then I would ask: Who gets to decide whether they deserve to live or die?

The Nietzschian response is Chihiro does. Chihiro decides his own morals for himself, and has the power to assert them over others. In fact if he didn't, he would be completely ineffectual. If Chihiro passively turned the other cheek and forgave his enemies, then he would not have the power to help anyone.

Is there something wrong with this? As we see in the story, Chihiro is very principled, he hates unnecessary killing, he has sympathy for people like Hakuri and Iori and won't sacrifice them for the greater good.

He's even capable of putting aside his revenge if it means saving people like Hakuri and Iori. If all morality is relative, then isn't Chihiro just doing what everyone does, deciding for himself in the moment what is moral and what is not?

Even in opposing Samura's decision to disarm the nukes that could potentially blow up the country at some point in the future Chihiro is raising an interesting point, is it fair that an orphan like Iori has to lose her father because of a danger he might represent? Is it alright to trample over an orphaned little girl and take her father away?

If Chihiro has the power to protect the people he wants to protect, to punish the people he sees doing evil and harming innocents, then what is wrong with him asserting this power even if it means killing people?

Is the option to choose to passively suffer somehow more noble?

"It has the same effect on them as Epicurean philosophy on the sufferers of higher order by refreshing, refining and effectively using suffering and finally even sanctifying and justifying it. There is perhaps nothing so admirable in Christianity and Budhism as the art of teaching even the lowest to elevate themselves by a piety to a higher, illusory order of things and thereby keep themselves satisfied with the actual world in which they live in great hardship - but precisely this hardship is necessary!"

Well alright, it seems like we've got this figured out. Chihiro is someone we can trust, because he creates his own morals and he has freed himself from the biases society's morals. We can trust he will do good, because he has the strength to always think for himself and follow his own morals and he doesn't submit to anyone else. Chihiro would never submit to anyone else's morals, and he would especially never join a shady government organization that was totally cool with doing nothing when humans were being sold on an auction block in the auction arc.

Oh, wait hang on a second.

DR. STRANGELOVE: OR HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB

The flaw with moral relativism is that it is at best incoherent and vague. Let's take the nietzschian argument, if there are special people in this world who have the right to transgress over other people in order to achieve great things, like the way Chihiro has murdered so many in order to achieve his revenge then how do you distinguish that type of special person from a normal person.

"They begin executing other people?" "If it's necessary; indeed, for the most part they do. Your remark is very witty." "Thank you. But tell me this: how do you distinguish those extraordinary people from the ordinary ones? Are there signs at their birth? I feel there ought to be more exactitude, more external definition. Excuse the natural anxiety of a practical law-abiding citizen, but couldn't they adopt a special uniform, for instance, couldn't they wear something, be branded in some way? For you know if confusion arises and a member of one category imagines that he belongs to the other, begins to 'eliminate obstacles' as you so happily expressed..." Crime and Punishment

This quotation is taken from Crime and Punishment where the main character Raskolnikov is discussing with a detective his theory that certain people have the inherent right to remove obstacles out of their way in order to achieve greatness. The detective's counter argument is the obvious: Well, what makes them so great exactly?

Well, from Nietzsche's perspective there are in our society members descended from an ancient Aryan race... wait, what?

"Was Nietzsche Woke?" Philosophytube

Nietzsche died in 1900, but fascists loved using his ideas as justification for their actions, especially Hitler and Mussolini. Does that make Nietzsche specifically responsible for it, well not really because he's dead.

Instead of discussing whether Nietzsche's ideas are inherently fascist which I think is a boring discussion, I am going to touch why fascists find these concepts of moral relativism and nietzsche's rejection of morality so applicable to their won ideas and the answer is that it's vague. If your entire belief system is just "everything is relative" then you're not really operating under any kind of consistent rules.

Trying to string together a consistent ideology from Nietzsche's writings is hard because so many of its writings contradict itself, that his message becomes very vague. Trying to describe what moral relativists believe is like trying to describe post-modernism or porn to other people, I don't know how to describe it but I know it when I see it.

I talked about how earlier that if you reject the notion that "Thou must not kill", then Chihiro has every right to assert his power over the human traffickers and kill them in order to punish them. Yet, if as Nietzsche argues that the "drive to power" exists within everyone then what about the human traffickers? Don't they have the same "drive to power" and right to assert their power over other people, in this case by kidnapping humans and selling them in order to make money? If there are no objective morals, then slavery isn't objectively evil either. Neither Chihiro or the Human Traffickers are good or evil, they are just both asserting their power. Then Chihiro isn't the moral victor, he's just STRONGER than them.

"All morals are relative" is in itself, paradoxically, a moral absolute. As much as Nietzsche challenges us confront our own biases and challenge what society taught us to think for ourselves, there's also no such thing as an unbiased person. If you read Nietzsche's work, a lot of what he says is also parroting pretty common attitudes of Jewish people at the time in germany.

Chihiro is definitely not unbiased either, he is extremely biased by his hero worship towards his father. So far we have seen him completely sidestep the greatest moral dilemna of this entire manga.

When Oppenheimer was released, a lot of Japanese people protested the movie, especially the decision to focus on the man who made the bomb instead of the over 200,000 victims that the bomb created.

The swords are nukes. They are explicitly nukes. They were dropped on an island nation and wiped out the entirety of the population in order to end a war. Nothing short of godzilla crawling out of the water to attack Chihiro could make them more obviously a metaphor for nukes. 200,000 is around the estimated number of dead at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The enemy had surrendered, a peace treaty was signed to preserve the civilians of the island, and then one of the five swordsmen decided that was not good enough and killed 200,000 people in an instant.

Who's fault was this?

Well, one obvious one is the guy who made the nukes in the first place. If that weapon had never been placed in the hand of the fifth swordsmen, then he never would have had the means to kill an island full of 200,000 people.

The justification that the Kamunabi give is that they needed the magical swords in order to fight off the invaders, and if they didn't have those swords the number of casualties would be much higher.

I am an American and this is the exact same justification I have heard over and over again for Nagasaki and Hiroshima. "Well, the japanese never surrender so way more people would have died in a land invasion if we didn't drop the bombs."

The underlying point though is that if you decide who gets to do what based upon who has the power to do it, then that very quickly slides into fascism. Why did the last swordsman decide that he had the right to kill 200,000 people because someone gave him the power to. He used his power to do what he believed was right even if it means stepping on other people, and eliminate his enemy.

Is Chihiro killing criminals the same thing as killing an entire island's worth of people? Not necessarily, but in principle Chihiro is killing people because he believes he has the right for himself to decide who lives and who dies, and the way he asserts that right is by power.

Am I being reactionary by saying that Chihiro's philosophy that he is entitled to revenge resembles fascist ideology and can spiral out of control into fascist ideology? Well, maybe - but objectively right now Chihiro is working for a government that committed a genocide against a nation of 200,000 people that they had signed a peace treaty with and then covered up the fact that they committed that genocide in the first place.

It's also very easy to fall right down that slippery slope. Fascism is very appealing to people who are feel they have been injured or victimized by something, and want the power to take vengeance against that vague something.

Chihiro would not kill civilians right now, he draws the line very clearly and will even give his life to protect civilians but it is also true that Chihiro is not unbiased and his morals are very bendy.

As I said above, Chihiro says he that he will do anything to protect innocent people, but if that's the case then shouldn't he be in support of killing Samura and disarming the nukes even if it means all the swordwielders have to die?

He is making a personal judgement that Iori is more important than the potential deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people, not based off of any ethical principle but because his dad died and he relates to Iori and she also loved her father.

Chihiro's morals are not consistent and well-thought out, and that is dangerous because Chihiro doesn't really submit to anyone's authority other than his own and he definitely does not follow due process. We as the reader have to trust Chihiro's judgements that he is a moral person, but Chihiro is biased.

Chihiro is currently working for the government organization that decided to cover up their mistake in killing an island full of people, use the heroes as propaganda and brand the island dwellers as inhuman savages, and then not disarm the nukes.

Why didn't they disarm the nukes? Is it because the government thought it was unfair to kill the four other heroes for the actions of one of the swordwielders and that they didn't deserve to be punished for rewarding their country? Or is it because of the much more likely reason that they didn't want to give up the magical swords that could completely wipe out an enemy army if they ever needed to use them for self-defense again?

For example, if the Kamunabi had done the opposite then what then? What if the Kamunabi had arrested Chihiro's father in front of his son, dragged him into court, gave him a fair trial and then decided to hang him for his crimes against humanity in his decision to build the bomb I mean the swords.

If that had happened would Chihiro have accepted the decision, or would we be reading an entirely different manga where Chihiro was fighting against the government in order to avenge his father?

That's a hard question to answer, because Chihiro's morals are so vague and easy to influence. Hopefully Chihiro will figure it out for himself over the course of the story, because as badass as Chihiro saying that he'll choose to face god and walk backwards into hell in order to get his revenge I think it would be much better if he found some other reason to live for revenge by the end of the story.

#kagurabachi #chihiro rokuhira #kagurabachi meta #kagurabachi spoilers #seiichi samura #kagurabachi 78 #kagurabachi 78 spoilers

93 notes · View notes

after-witch · 8 months ago

Text

How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L Lawliet x Sibling Reader]

Title: How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L x Sibling Reader]

Synopsis: Your brother is dead. What pieces are there left to pick up?

Word count: 3800ish

notes: yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, grief and death mentions

Your brother is dead.

And oh, it’s clear now: whoever said death was an inevitable cold hard fact was a liar. Or stupid. Or both. Because this fact is not cold or hard; it’s warm, oozing, feeling like so much black sludge running between your fingers.

You’ll never get it off--the death, yes, and the awful, sinking realization--

Your brother is dead and their first priority was not to tell you.

They don’t bring you into a quiet room and ask you to sit down, before explaining in sympathetic, gentle tones that something bad has happened. That the brother who carried you through hell as a child, who kept you safe (and locked away) well into your thoroughly stunted adulthood, will never be coming back again. That you’ll never hear his voice or see his face or feel his touch.

No. They don’t bother with you, first.

Their first priority is to gather together two of those damned groomed successors--Near and Mello, of course--and take them into a quiet room and explain, softly but succinctly, that L was dead.

That’s how you hear the news. You’d followed along, hackles raised when they were gathered up, and padded silently into the next room with a sourness in your stomach. And that’s how you hear it. With your ear pressed against the wall of the room next door, gleaning snatches of the conversation afterward through a horrible ringing in your ears.

(And aren’t you an awful thing? That you didn’t know until that moment? That you weren’t struck numb the moment he died thousands of miles away, that some guttural psychic primal instinct inside you didn’t say: Something is wrong and my brother is dead. Aren’t you a shitty person, that you didn’t somehow know without the muffled words through the wall?)

Mello is loudest. He cuts through that awful, disbelieving buzz that courses through you.

“Who did he pick--” And you don’t have to hear the rest to know what he’s asking. Did L pick him--or Near--as a replacement? As if he could be replaced. As if someone could simply step into his shadow and wear his skin.

“He didn’t have time,” answers Roger, and you puke a little bit of breakfast back into your mouth.

What a thought--that L had been snuffed out without warning. Without time to think about it. Without time to regret, to come to terms--to call you.

What was he thinking about, as he died? Was he thinking at all? Was there even the quickest of thoughts about you or your parents (distant, foggy beings that they were) or something else, something you would never know because your brother always kept some parts of him out of reach?

The wallpaper scratches underneath your fingernails, and a dim part of you wonders if they can hear it beyond the wall. Maybe you want them to hear you, hear the way your fingers dig into the paper and drag down as you slide onto the floor.

Your brother is dead, and you’re alone, and what the fuck was any of it for, if he was just going to get himself killed?

They do get you, eventually. Or rather, they find you, quiet and curled up in the corner of the room next door, a room you ought never to have been in.

You don’t respond to the quiet calls of your name. You don’t respond when they step inside and Roger crouches down beside you, asking if--and he doesn’t finish the question, because he knows that asking someone “Are you all right?” when they are in a tight fetal position after clearly hearing news of their brother’s death through an orphanage wall is a stupid fucking question.

So all Roger does is put a hand on your shoulder and squeeze. It means nothing, and you get no comfort from it. No one here could comfort you. No one alive.

“L left a letter for you,” Roger says, and it’s only now that you turn your head to look up at him. “Before he left for the Kira case.”

Kira. If only everyone who uttered that name had their tongue turned to ashes.

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

It is his handwriting. Not a typed letter, which could be a forgery. No, this was written by his hand, his distinct scrawl. But what sealed the authenticity was that it was written in invisible ink, revealed through a solution only you had access to; L made it himself. Because he was smart--and a pompous asshole.

But that’s how you know in the end that it’s not a fake, but a real letter. The last letter you’ll ever get from him.

You bring the paper to your nose and sniff; it doesn’t smell like him. Maybe it did, at first, before whatever filing cabinet they’d stowed it in leached away the scent. Or maybe it smelled like him before you poured the solution on, and your anticipation to read what he said destroyed your last chance at remembering what he smelled like.

It doesn’t matter.

The letter is simple and your hand trembles and the first words on the page hurt--tears drip down stupidly and turn blue when they hit the chemical solution on the paper.

He’d make fun of you for crying, before wiping your tears with his shirt, so you’d call him gross and smile and feel a bit better. He would do that, if he were alive. But he can’t, because, as the letter says--

If you are reading this, I am dead. Kira has killed me.

I was aware that this was a possibility--

Oh, fuck him. Fuck. Him.

There is the urge to crumple the paper now. To find a fireplace and make someone light it and watch the paper burn, chemicals sparking, with satisfaction. How dare he. How dare he chase after this case, knowing it was a possibility, knowing that you might end up staring at this letter. Knowing that you’d be so utterly fucking alone.

Breath coming in shallow pants, you keep going.

I was aware that this was a possibility and I’ve prepared for it, as such. You don’t need to worry about money. It’s taken care of. You don’t need to worry about a place to live. It’s taken care of.

You realize, dimly, that one of your hands has begun to pound against the wall. Who-cares-who-cares-who-cares. You don’t want to know that there’s money and a place to stay.

What you want is your brother.

You want him here so you can grab his shirt and tug him close and tell him he’s a massive asshole and you love him. You want him to tentatively wrap his arm around you, to give you a pat, to murmur something about being too clingy.

You want him to suddenly pull your hair so you can stomp on his foot. You want to curl up in bed, like you used to, and wait for him to stroke your back to sleep while you asked him questions about anything and everything. His voice would be soft and dull, walking that fine line between patience and annoyance. You’d fall asleep while he told you something especially important, and he’d debate flicking your head to wake you up, a 50/50 chance that he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of these things. Not now. Not ever again. He has no voice to speak with, no body to touch. He has no more life in him at all.

You couldn’t even visit his grave, assuming he had one.

The tears are hot against your eyes as they drip-drop and stain the page now. It’s not fair, none of this. The death and the letter and the gray future ahead of you.

But you have to keep reading. Every word is precious, the last ones you’ll read from his hand. And maybe--this is awful, isn’t it--maybe this letter is where he finally has to admit that he’s been selfish. To keep you locked away, to put his need for control over your need to live a real life, to stay away as much as he does--as much as he did.

Maybe this letter is where he admits his faults as a brother, so you can cry over something other than the feeling of a gutted cave inside your chest.

Maybe this is when he admits he’s kept you wrapped in a useless bubble, and that was wrong, and now you’ll get to--

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

The pounding on the wall stops. Thoughts come quick, snapping, punctuated by a red hot stings of electric hate. The bastard--how could he--why would he--the words don’t even seem to make sense, so you read them over and over and over, trying to understand.

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

But no matter how many times you read them, the words don’t register as anything but a jumble of phrases put together. He couldn’t have written that. But he did. Yet the very thought that someone else would care for you like a brother--

No. Your brother is dead, and no one can replace him. Not as the best detective in the world, not as your brother, not as anything. How could he, why would he, there’s no answer that comes so you let the questions singe the air instead.

There’s a woozy, hazy fuzz that descends on your head like a net, and you lean against the wall. Red-hot anger simmers, bubbled with a hazy grief, as you force yourself to continue.

I have left them detailed instructions on how to care for you.

The words drop into your stomach hard, with no reprieve. He left instructions for your care, like you were a pet being looked after on a vacation. Fucker. You try to determine if it was a joke, or an intentional slight meant to irritate you, or not something he put any spite into at all. Was he being sincere?

Because--well.

Is it entirely wrong? You and the figurative pampered dog both leapt to attention whenever your owners--whenever your brother--deigned to come home from vacation. From solving crimes. Both whined when he left. Both circled and moped, staring out the window, hoping for their return.

Not that there would be any return for L.

You will be safe and protected, as you were under me.

A hand goes to your mouth, covering a smile that no one else is here to see. Safe and protected, sure. Like a princess in a fairy tale, like some maiden kept under lock and key in a dragon-guarded keep. Only the dragon never breathed fire--only familiar platitudes and a comforting sameness that chained you down as well as the actual locks on the doors, the security cameras, the strict instructions for the security guard at the gate.

But you were safe, and you were protected. And here you are, now, wet tears on your cheeks, anger in your stomach and a smile on your face, because your brother apparently put you in his will like some sort of inheritance for whoever takes up his mantle.

Please don’t do anything foolish now that I’m gone. Not that it stopped you, before.

A flash in your mind, the image of your brother’s smirk, curling up at the ends. A thumb in his mouth to soften it.

It aches and it doesn’t, this image, the clear sense of L in these words. Why can’t he be here? Why this pain, this gouged sense of reality that makes you feel like screaming until there’s no more air in your lungs?

Your hand finds the wall again, scratching at the paper with as much force as you can, rippled scratches following in their wake.

Better the paper than your skin--your skin will heal. They’ll have to replace the wallpaper if they want to fix the jagged scratches. Let them replace it. Let them replace it like they want to replace your brother, and see where it gets them. You’ll be there in either case.

There’s nothing more on the paper. You’re not sure if you expected there to be; you can’t imagine him writing soft, sweet words of comfort. He never said them, not exactly, so why write them now? No “I love you,” no “You’ll be fine without me.”

But, ah. There’s more to that, isn’t there? L would never write “You’ll be fine without me,” because he didn’t like to lie.

And who is the successor that will receive these so-called instructions? He hasn’t chosen anyone. Roger, you’d heard, suggested Mello and Near work together. Fat chance. Like they would--like they could.

They couldn’t, and they can’t, and they don’t. It isn’t long before Mello leaves and there’s one less orphan in the building, and Near steps in.

To be trained, to be raised, to study the Kira case--to take care of you, so says your dead brother in his last letter.

But Near isn’t L.

And you’re alone.

It is not terribly long after you become brotherless--and rudderless--that you walk into your room to find Near sitting on the floor, stacking rows of gray, pattern blocks that resemble a cityscape in the center of your private little space.

The sight of him is wrong. He looks--not like L, not in that way. But the posture. The outfit. If you squint--and you do--you can blur him into something like a younger version of your brother. Different hair, of course, but didn’t he sometimes sit like that when he played? When he refused to share his blocks, and made you watch him play, and occasionally deigned to let you place a piece or two as long as you put it exactly where he told you?

And you always did, little fingers trembling, because you wanted him to think you were good enough to listen. Good enough to do what he says, because he was older, and smarter, and you should listen to him.

There’s a lump in your throat before you realize it.

”Why are you here?” Your own voice is a croak, rusted from ill-use. Crying. Shouting. Not talking for hours until you had to.

It’s not like you had too many people to talk to, anyway; but if you get him to talk, then this blurry vision will vanish. Near might look a bit like your brother, might have the same penchant for picking things apart, but he wasn’t L. Never would be, not really.

He doesn’t look up when you speak. Thank God for small mercies. Instead, he takes one finger and pushes it in the center of a block tower, creating a window.

“Roger said you were upset.”

The temptation to blur vanishes with the sound of his young and decidedly not-L voice, and it’s easier to cross your arms, to put up the defenses.

“Obviously.” A little less dry now. A little more sarcastic. And a little more alive than you’ve sounded in weeks, or months, or however long it’s been since your brother ceased existing and your life at Wammy’s became all the more bleak. “My brother died.”

Near’s eyes finally flick up to you before they dart back down to the blocks. He carefully slips a block figure--a bland smiling thing--into the window.

He speaks softly, with little intonation. You hate how familiar it is.

“That is, upset about me.”

The sound of your stupid little intake breath in the quiet room is a little too much to bear, and you try to focus on the sound of the blocks instead. The small shift of the pieces as he slides them here and there, the clacking sound as they stack together.

Click. Clack.

What does Roger know, anyway?

“Not about you… in particular,” you admit. It’s the most you’ve admitted to Near in--well. Ever. It’s not like you were eager to talk to many of the children at Wammy’s, especially when you outgrew them. Yet unlike the orphaned faces that faded from memory in time, you weren’t adopted, weren’t eased into some other life outside these walls; instead, L kept you here, guarded, safe, and completely stuck.

And you are stuck. You’re an adult. You could’ve stormed out the doors the minute L died, you’re sure, legally speaking (before that--even--before that you could’ve left); started walking and taken up a job at some shitty diner and rented a room in a seedy motel until you were on your feet.

It’s something that you’d threatened in L’s face from time to time, and he didn’t even deign to take you seriously, and it’s only now that he’s dead that you understand why.

He knew you wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave? Maybe it’s the same thing. Because he was right. There’s no life for you out there; no life for you in here, except for what L left you, which includes--somehow--this boy in front of you, stacking blocks, who is supposed to take up the position of older brother. In capturing Kira and everything else.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he says, all matter-of-fact. “L left instructions.”

Your chest squeezes. Those fucking instructions. You had asked--stormed up in a huff, demanded, in a tantrum--Roger to read them, and he refused. Said L indicated the letter was for his successor’s eyes only.

So all you had was your imagination; did L write down a list of things you liked, things you didn’t like? Did he rattle off your favorite foods, what time you were supposed to go to bed, what to do if you had a meltdown and began to cry over your social isolation? Or did he--the thought was tempting, however improbable it was--write something more sentimental?

Logic and bitterness win out, and you imagine Near reading the details of the letter meticulously, probably looking for the words-within-the-words, all while flying an airplane with his other hand.

“I’m not a dog.” Your eyes dart over the blocks, over the memory of all the toys you’ve seen Near playing with; there’s something painful in that image, for too many reasons. “Or a toy.”

“Yes, I know.”

Near doesn’t look up again. Instead, he flicks his hand, and knocks over the tower with the window, with the smiling person inside, who topples to your carpeted floor. Something about it makes you want to laugh; makes you want to get on the floor and ask if you can push over the next one. Tears prick at the edge of your eyes.

Instead of swooping onto the floor, you weave around the circular city he’s created in your room without permission, and climb onto your bed. The book you were reading this morning is still there, ragged bookmark jutting out of it. Your bed is unmade, otherwise. Sheets rumpled and unwashed. You haven’t bothered with the bed since L died. Haven’t bothered with a lot of things, besides.

It was an older book. A philosophical treatise from the 1930s, when Europe was on the cusp of war; translated into English and shuffled around the hands of starving artists and avant garde thinkers until, decades later, it landed, battered, onto the shelves of the orphanage for gifted children. Gifted children and you, L’s leftover baggage.

Well. If Near is going to barge into your room without permission, you won’t let it impact your day. Roger said if you didn’t start eating again, you couldn’t borrow books; that’s where you’d been, before you came back. Grabbing something to eat under his watchful eye and eating it with deliberately pointed chewing motions, as if it bothered him.

So you’ve eaten. Now you can read.

“What are you reading?” He asks, like he didn’t already see the title of the book. He probably saw it on your bed whenever he first came into your room. Probably knows exactly where it rests in the Wammy library when it’s not checked out, and who else has read it besides you.

But he’s asking anyway and something empty in you clings to that question, as you curl up on your side--body and soul aching for the physical curled-up nest of your brother that doesn’t exist anymore.

You hold up the cover and shrug, hiding the need, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your pillow and have an imaginary conversation with your dead brother. It wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had this week.

Near’s eyes flick to the book, before he works on creating another tower.

“Do you like it?”

Your heart clenches. You’re reading into it, the way it reminds you of L. The way the question is open and you can’t tell if it’s asked because he thinks the book is pointless trash and will find you silly if you like it, or because he genuinely wants to know.

It’s not a book you’d read again, that’s certain. Not because you think it’s awful, but because none of it really makes sense to you. You’d grabbed it because the thought of reading a novel you’d been eager to read while your brother’s corpse was buried thousands of miles away made you want to vomit. So a random philosophy book was the better option.

You don’t want to tell Near all of this; because of his age, because he’s little more than someone you know, and because like your brother, you want to keep some things secret.

“I don’t understand most of it,” you admit, finally, the words sticking to your mouth a little. A bit of truth would be okay, in the end. “I just wanted to occupy my time, I guess.” Reading words from someone who furiously pushed them out on his typewriter almost a hundred years ago was better than thinking about who wasn’t in the room.

Near smiles, a little, not looking away from the blocks.

“Do you want to help?”

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, picking up each piece carefully and stacking it just-so. He leaves the toppled tower, figure and all, where it is.

You’re not sure how long you wait before deciding. All you know is that in your isolated room at Wammy’s, with only a window to the outside world you’ve barely known to give you any inkling of the passing of days, you slide onto the floor and tentatively pick up one of the toppled blocks.

Near doesn’t tell you to leave those where they are, and that’s okay.

He doesn’t tell you where to put it, either, as L would have certainly done--and somehow, that’s okay, too.

#yandere death note #platonic yandere #yandere l #yandere l lawliet #yandere #afterwitch writes #just wanted to write some angst after listening to The Way it Ends Now on repeat for ages

387 notes · View notes

gh0sts-and-demons · 10 days ago

Text

you thought you were dreaming at first.

you were in bed, half asleep, when something brushed over your skin. it was warm, soft, and you imagined it was just your blanket shifting. belatedly, you realized you hadn't moved, so how could your blanket?

and, if it was your blanket, how was it squeezing your tits when you were laying face down?

your heart pounded in your chest and your eyes shot open. the dark of your room had never been more terrifying. someone was in here with you, groping you. molesting you. without thinking, you rolled over, hoping to identify whoever had broken in.

idiot. if it had been an intruder, and you had seen their face, they would have killed you.

but there was no one there. you swung your legs over the edge of your bed and rushed to the light switch, half-sprinting through your apartment, straining your ears for any sound. nothing. no one.

panting, sweating, terrified, and utterly alone, you stood in your home. unsafe. unsure.

no. it was just a dream. a nightmare. had to have been.

you were almost convinced when the ghost hands returned, sliding up your thighs. you looked down to see nothing but the indentations of invisible fingers digging into your flesh, the fabric of your panties stretching as something squeezed your ass and massaged between your legs.

you tried to step away, to escape the invisible assault. you backed into the wall, only for the paint to stretch as more hands reached through it, pinning you. you tried to scream, and a hand covered your mouth.

"shh, shh." the voice was inches from your face. "don't act like you haven't been craving this. craving us."

pressure between your legs again, soft but unyielding, prying them open and exposing the damp spot on your panties. the ghost rubbed it gently, chuckling in your ear.

"we've seen the things you look at at night. the things that make you scream with pleasure when you slide your hand into these cute little panties." he—it was definitely a masculine voice—pulled at the waistband of your underwear and snapped it against your hip, making you yelp, the sound muffled by the hand still smothering you.

he continued rubbing your mound over the fabric of your panties, and you hated yourself for how wet you were getting. how your hips ground against him of their own accord, desperate for the pleasure he teased.

"so eager," he whispered. "so willing." he pulled your panties down, and you stepped out of them, spreading yourself for him, and cursing yourself for being such a needy slut. "so wet for us after just a bit of groping."

as if on command, the hands from the wall began exploring you, pinching, squeezing, and massaging every inch of you. two hands cupped your breasts, rolling your taut nipples between their fingers, while another wrapped around your throat. more hands grabbed your ass, spreading you wide, while others roamed your thighs, stomach, and sides. your desperation doubled at their ministrations, and you were soaking wet. you could feel it starting to drip down your thighs.

"we have been so interested, watching you," he told her. "it has been a long time since anyone came here who could be... communicated with." as he spoke, he slid his cock between your wet pussy lips, teasing your clit viciously. "but i think you're exactly what we need."

the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, finding only the slightest resistance as it slid inside. your pussy swallowed his cock eagerly, and you moaned into the hand covering your mouth as he filled you. you'd always thought ghosts would be cold, but he was almost hot, making you shiver. he thrust himself inside you to the hilt, and his satisfied groan in your ear made your eyes flutter shut.

this is what you wanted. to be used, to be fucked, to be filled up, to be a good little hole for any cock aching for release. you wanted to be nothing more than the perfect, wet little pussy for anyone—and anything—to fuck. the feeling of a dream coming true washed over you, and you relaxed into the hands as they continued to grope you, met the ghost's thrusts as he fucked you ravenously.

your orgasm was slow, soft, more like a wave on the sand than an explosion. you named the sensation: pure belonging.

"that's right," the ghost grunted as he slammed his cock into you over and over. "you belong with us. to us."

"yes," you moaned, not realizing the hand over your mouth was gone. "yes, yes, i'm yours! oh god!" you came again just as the first wave of pleasure had passed, bucking your hips against thin air. your pussy gaped by nothing, dripping wetness down your thighs. your throat buckled under the invisible hand around it when it squeezed, cutting off your breath, heightening the pleasure and making your eyes roll back in your head.

"fuck, that's it," he moaned, thrusting into you erratically as his own pleasure overtook him. his grunts matched perfectly with the sensation of hot cum spurting into you, painting your insides. burst after burst of warmth, and then—

you fell to the floor, of no further use to him. the hands retreated into the plaster of the wall, the sensation of being in a crowded room dissipated. hot cum leaked out of you as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, your pussy throbbing from the abuse.

used. full of cum. brainless from your own orgasms. satisfied. alone.

you took a shower and returned to bed, your hand slipping between your legs one more time. just before your back arched and you gasped with pleasure, you heard a ghostly chuckle from the corner of your room.

"don't worry," he said. "i'm not the only one who wants a turn with you."

#my writing #ghost fucker #terato #monsterfucker #terat0philliac #ghost x human

59 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 8 months ago

Text

The Penguin: Episode 1 Breakdown

(Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

Thank you Lauren LeFranc, Mike Marino, Colin Farrell and Matt Reeves, we owe you the world for this, good God. It's finally here everyone and I've decided I'm gonna give each episode it's own post/breakdown of thoughts, because hahaha holy shit you guys this is beyond what I even dreamed of, and we're gonna be covering this for a while I think. I've worked out enough madness about this out of my system by talking with friends and I can't seem to be able to work on anything else till I get this done, so let's do it.

Bottom line: This isn't even just a must-watch if you like the Penguin or if you like The Batman, this is something I'd recommend to just about anyone in a heartbeat, something I can point to when people ask "why do you like The Penguin so much" and, instead of the elaborate nerd ramble that usually turns them off, I can just tell them to watch this. A friend of mine (who already loves Batman and digs the Penguin quite a bit) even told me as much, that he's starting to get why I love the character so much, and truly, is there a better feeling than this? Well, there is, and it's watching the show. Let's dig into this first episode:

Right upfront I'm gonna say that this doesn't really seem to be the Sopranos rip-off that people have been calling it before release, although there are definitely Sopranos comparisons to make here. I've spent the past months finally watching The Sopranos in order to get the comparison and definitely want to talk about those comparisons after I finish it (and this show ends). This thing aims to stand on it's own legs as a crime show and it's smashing out of the gate with an extremely promising first episode.

So this just casually opens with the reveal that all along, there was a second rich Gotham the whole time that was completely unaffected by everything we saw in the movie, already throwing a great twist on the events of that movie, and further reinforcing how fucking full of shit The Riddler was. All we saw Batman and the others deal with in the movie was just affecting the poorer parts of the city. All Eddie did was drown rats, and make life worse for the people already in the bottom, while never even getting close to targeting the systemic rot that ruined his life. He retains ideological worshippers in subways obsessed with the corruption of the city without doing anything to actually improve it, and because of him, the streets of Gotham are waterlogged shitholes while the rich Falcone suburbs are doing just fine, peachy even.

I said a while back that, in spite of having about 6 scenes/10 minutes of Penguin runtime, The Batman managed to squeeze impeccably controlled Penguin Trademark Scenes, and this show opens with the last one they didn't get to then: Penguin killing someone for making fun of him. In the movie, he tries doing that with Falcone and is beaten to the punch, so here he gets to actually do it to disastrous consequences.

Fucking adore that the inciting incident of the show is based on the fallout of Oswald killing someone for making fun of him. He pours his heart about the dream he lives his life for, his new boss makes fun of him for being an embarassment to their profession and then he does the most typical Penguin thing by killing him for it and laughing afterwards. And then he realizes how badly he fucked up, and then we get a fucking perfect titledrop with his musical theme, the exact moment we finish The Batman and enter The Penguin.

God it is so fucking cool how the make-up/lighting, the scar across his face, makes it look like he's got a genuine beak from certain angles, how they're able to achieve that effect without giving him a more literal beak for a nose. Everytime they talk about the character, Reeves and Farrell always emphasize how integral the make-up was to them figuring out what to do with Oz, how little they knew what to make of his six scenes until Marino created their monster and suddenly everything fell into place. Mike Marino fully deserves co-credit for the creation of Oz.

Pretty amusing that Victor, as designed to be Penguin's Robin, has exactly the same origin as Jason Todd, a poor street kid trying to steal the hubcaps off the Penguinmobile (I'm sure this bodes very well for his odds at survival), as is the way in which Oz goes on about his recruitment. He press-gangs this kid at gunpoint to help him bury a body arguing with himself and eventually the kid why shouldn't he just kill him to be safe, while trying to impress the kid with his car and air freshener and later that bullshit about "What, you think I hire any schmuck off the street?". From the tile drop onwards, he's doing everything on the fly while also spinning long-term plans set in motion as soon as he's on screen, he's taking this kid in out of sympathy and because he enjoys a power dynamic over someone weaker than him and because he very much needs someone to help him get stuff done. I'm extremely interested in exploring Penguin having a mentorship dynamic and I'm beyond curious as to what happens with Victor from this point onwards, but that poor kid is in for a terrible fucking time.

Found it very funny how much he half-asses the murder threat to Victor. Like it's his first time actually doing it and he's trying to be serious, but not too scary because he's already seeing himself in the poor kid with a stutter and wants the kid to think he's also a cool guy like he wants everyone to think he's a cool guy. I also think having Victor as the POV helps to sell moments like these, because it's still terrifying to him. Even as we follow their stories, these power players of Gotham are still big scary monsters to people caught in the dregs and Victor helps to reinforce that.

I enjoy Oz being friends with sex workers and drag queens off the street as much as I enjoy Oz being depicted as the kind of guy who deludes himself into thinking the prostitute he's with actually likes him, Lauren and Farrell launched into a bit about in on the podcast and I'm curious to see what's going on with him and Eve here.

Lots of perfect funny little character moments across the whole thing. Oz insulted by the idea of taking extra pickles off a poor kid's dirty mouth, but with zero hesitation whatsoever for picking jewelry off his boss' corpse. Dude is governed by principles even as he actively has to break them to survive.

"Technically it's plum." "He is the - or was the - new kingpin", "He's got nurse-like qualities." The show is not overtly trying to get you to find Penguin likeable as much as it wants you to find him engaging - making you think he's likeable is Colin Farrell's job and he's masterful at it, definitely a lot more matured within the character compared to the movie.

If there's anything in particular I'm thankful for regarding Gotham (well okay Gotham led directly to Telltale Penguin which was the basis for this one, so really I do have a lot more to be thankful with Gotham), it's the decision to give him a legit waddle via the broken foot, but the way they incorporate it here with the club foot does so much for him, so much as a modern day reinvention of The Penguin. Adds so much to why he's never been a serious candidate for mob leadership, why he kinda had to spend all his time in the Lounge, why he actually needs someone to help him run affairs, why he has such a gaping ego wound and is so murderously angry at people making fun of him / calling him a goddamn penguin, adds so much validation and so much darkness and nuance to Oswald's overwhelming anger and bitterness over how the world treats him (and so much power should he opt to reclaim it, in turn). It's the kind of thing that frankly feels like it should have always been part of the character, like what all the previous versions were itching closer to or trying to get at. Of course this is a guy gets called a penguin and he hates it badly enough to murder people over it, of course.

This gets to really highlight how differently Oz acts depending on who he's with. Traditionally, one of my favorite things about The Penguin, and one of the things that puts him above the other villains, is that, due to his position, he has to interact with a lot more people than the other Bat-villains. He has to manage a lot more relationships and dynamics, he has to play peacekeeper and puppetmaster. he's the only one in the United Underworld who's regularly interacting with and recruiting other villains to do business with. He's the guy who you pin stuff on like the Gangland Guardians, Team Penguin, doing betting pools with the Rogues taking cover in his Lounge while Joker War is happening, having to rig games to keep good standing with Maxie Zeus and Frenchy Blake in Batman Audio Adventures, and so on. So I greatly enjoy this beat here of him talking about how makes himself smaller before the Falcones, and that moment of him adjusting his outfit and practicing expressions in the mirror before meeting with them. How he contorts himself is present in all of his relationships, and retroactively adds to the way he carries himself in The Batman.

It seems that Oz is functionally regarded as the Paulie Walnuts of the Falcones: useful muscle, loyal for the most part and amusing to keep around, but largely an unstable self-serving dumb asskisser kept where he belongs, a liability if not kept on a short leash. I think the show does a good job of highlighting all the reasons why Oz has never been seriously regarded as a viable option for a boss, even putting aside his disability. He is a fundamentally embarassing person for these serious respectable criminals to be around and of course, the joke is ultimately on them..

Of course, there is only two people in the show who actually know what he's capable of, Francis Cobb and Sofia Falcone, said to be the central relationships defining the show moving forward. Both of them also a defining commonality with Oswald, being people who are looked down on and dehumanized, and characters who are underestimated until it's time to bear their fangs.

Extremely invested in where they're going with Sofia Falcone, Cristine Milioti's been killing it, and will in fact not stop killing it. What a perfect villain for Penguin they've set up with her, someone who has his Kryptonite: she does not underestimate him. Although we know in advance that Oz is going to live and be in the next movie, the question here isn't even so much who's going to win the gang war, and rather how much damage these two freaks will do to the city until Batman gets back. In many ways, Sofia represents the shape of things to come just as much as he does.

She is this embodiment of both the pristine unfathomable wealth and privilege and power that he both detests and strives for, as well as this brutal new breed of madness and violence attacking the streets that he has to survive against and make deals with (and is himself very much a part of, however he denies it). She is Falcone's legacy in every way that matters, both a Kingpin of Gotham whose existence creates the oppressive conditions under which a Batman or a Riddler are created, as well as the Arkham Rogue, the larger-than-life sadist with a tragic origin and a signature torture-murder method and an embarassing name for the papers.

Even the fact that she is The Hangman, and Carmine was defined around his penchant for brutally strangling women - regardless of whether or not she did the crimes that got her in Arkham, she's become this larger-than-life themed expression of a violent obsession in a way that sets her up as every bit the Batman villain that The Penguin is. The two champions of the two Gothams, duking it out in this new world The Batman and The Riddler made, The Penguin vs The Hangman.

I am so glad Lauren LeFranc made the call for binning Alberto in the first five minutes so the rest of the show can focus on Sofia and make a real character out of her in a way nobody's ever really done before, every step of the way so far LeFranc has been perfectly on the ball about where to take these characters and their conflict. And speaking of those,

I feel very confident in saying that this is the first time anyone's ever really had something worth doing with Oswald's mother as a character in her own right and not just a source of anguish for Penguin (Gotham was almost onto something with Gertrude, but not nearly enough). When it comes to Penguin origin stories, my favorite's always been the Pre-Crisis one, where he's poor and bullied but happy with his mom and birds until she dies and the government seizes everything he has, which doesn't necessarily involve her much. But here? Francine Cobb is a real character in what little time we get to know her, and what a character she is. We quickly understand the role she's playing in Oz's life, not just as his mom and person he loves and strives to protect, but the person who's sculpting him into the man he's going to become.

She is vulnerable and she does need meds and she's not quite all there, and Penguin's need to care for her is visible in other actions of his. But then they turn it around by showing how strong and demanding she is, how she is fiercely ambitious and pushing him to be something he would otherwise not be, how much she loves him and sees greatness in him. She knows he's a people pleaser, she knows how to push his buttons, and she wants him to be more, so of course he's going to be more, because he lives to please his mom.

Related to this is this absolute bullseye of a summation of The Penguin, that Lauren LeFranc delivered in the podcast: "Perhaps his greatest fear is that love is transactional. And that yet, everything he does, every decision he makes, is as if that's true. As if "love is transactional" is a truth he abides by". Oswald's conception of power is being loved and revered like Rex Calabrese, and the love he wants most in all the world is the one from his mother. So in turn this, and all extensions of it, drive him to greater and darker lengths.

He doesn't have that ambition quite down yet, it's his mom that does. She who's pushing him to take over the city and not just be a guy scraping by for survival. He's smart and ambitious and extremely good at slipping out of trouble, but she's pushing him to be the guy who will be taking the city by the horns because that's what he has to be for their sake. Her legacy to her son is nurturing him having that dog in him that will make him the supervillain who picks fights with Vengeance. She is the force that's turning Oswald into The Goddamn Penguin and I can't wait to see how she's developed.

Of course he reprimands Victor in that scene for lacking ambition, who do you think he gets it from?

Really love what they've done with Sal Maroni in here so far. I like adaptations that take these throwaway Batman backstory gangsters and make something out of them, in this case, with Clancy Brown lending his power and voice and reputation as The Grand Boss of Villainy to play the last Respectable Gangster of Gotham, this intimidating principled old tiger who's inversely proportional to how much of a petty and scummy piece of shit Carmine Falcone was. Extremely a guy I'd want to see playing a hand in the creation of Two-Face. Just as crucial is the fact that he is the one who gets the most effortlessly outplayed by Oz here, because this is The Penguin Show: no room for traditional or respectable gangsters anymore, their purpose is to be crapped all over by our wacko birdman.

There's a lot about this that re-contextualizes his behavior in The Batman and the one I'm gonna point out is: even though he can't be sure his plan didn't completely go to shit, he is still keeping his wits and not being terribly scared about being beaten up and tortured and staring down the scariest Falcone with a gun shoved in his throat. But he craps his pants at the sight of the Batmobile. He gets pain, he gets indignity, but he doesn't get Vengeance, what kind of sick freak would come up with the stuff that guy does. A gun in his mouth and Falcone torture is just Tuesday, but a car that wants to eat his soul is some psycho shit he's just not ready to deal with.

It is the delicious tasty fucking irony that Oswald thinks Vengeance is this weird freak who doesn't play or bend to any rules and is here to fuck up everything, just like the madman who flooded the city, and thinks of himself in turn as a justifiable guy standing for the respectable old-fashioned empathetic way of doing things, instead of the exact same thing that Riddler and Batman are. Only Sofia gets what he really is, the same thing as her, and that's why she is the arch-enemy / the biggest thing he's gotta defeat in life for now.

God, how fucking PERFECT it is that he gets caught and tortured because he, after stabbing out a man's eye and causing him to get run over by a schoolbus, stops to wave at the kids in that schoolbus while covered in blood. Just the Rex Calabrese of it all, the self-image, this guy who's both a mean nasty son of a bitch and also a real bleeding heart softie and in ways that ruin his life and allow him to slip and wriggle his way out of shit he has no right to, as demonstrated by the finale.

Thinking about Sofia chastizing Oz saying he thinks she is a toy to play with, while rattling off the ways in which she owns him and everything he has, all the ridiculous little accessories her daddy let him play him, and he in turn is a ridiculous little accessory for the family she is twisting until it breaks. Perfect fucking villain for him. Can't wait to see how badly these two are gonna burn Gotham.

I knew deep in my heart that all I wanted out of a Penguin show, the thing that I simply needed to have in it, was Penguin pulling a heist set-up in advance, and it fucking delivered. He doesn't even complain at Victor for being late, because if anything, getting captured and tortured while the car crashed was even better for him. No, he complains at Victor for not being sufficiently gruesome with the body. See, unlike other cowardly anti-hero reinventions of Bat-villains, the show never wants you to forget that Oz is a weird freak and a disgusting piece of shit, even if he is a very likeable and even aspirational one. Only by the most random stroke of fate it wasn't Victor that he fed to the wolves at that moment, that he sees himself in the kid isn't exactly ensuring that he's gonna make out of this in one piece.

Mr. Vengeance gets Nirvana, and Mr. Boniface gets Dolly Parton, perfect credits.

In conclusion: Out of everything they could have done following the thunderous success of The Batman and it's ensuing influence over the DCU, out of all the offers Reeves must have gotten to helm their new universe after delivering a megahit reinvention of their breadwinner blockbuster character, Matt Reeves went "Nah, I listened to my crew, and what we really want to do is 8 hours of television about the waddling freak who's in my movie for 10 minutes", and he and his crew deserve the world for that. I dreamed as a kid of getting to make a big Penguin story or show, a wild impossible idea that would never actually happen, and now it's here and it's better than anything I'd ever imagined.

I'm fit to burst with joy and riding a high of no longer having to hunt for scraps and washing away decades of put-downs for the character and enjoying a Penguin renaissance like one I never imagined happening. I am extremely not an unbiased reviewer here, this show rules and I've waited for it since I was a kid and it's here, drink it the fuck in cause it's only the beginning.

#dc comics #dc #the penguin #penguin #oswald cobblepot #oswald cobb #hbo #max #the penguin hbo #matt reeves #lauren lefranc #mike marino #colin farrell

158 notes · View notes

snailsgoingdowntown · 20 days ago

Note

Fun thought.

The reader having feelings for someone else and even trying to kind of pursue them before her engagement to Dion.

Nothing serious, but I think it’d be very serious for Dion.

Hahaha

HAHAHA

WARNINGS: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior/thoughts, implied thoughts of murder, physical violence, choking, black mail, blood/self harm (Dion'd nails dig into his skin), thoughts of kidnapping the Reader. Please tell me if I missed any. Suggestive as well.

I don't really consider this a spoiler, but I'll put it utc just in case.

===

Murder is the only thing on bro's mind. Well, that and the urge to kidnap you - it's always been a thought he shoves to the back of his mind. While tempting, it wouldn't work in his favor.

You see, back when he was 18 and you 17, he noticed that something was different about you around the time you had this... Crush.

Prettier dresses that showed a bit of your figure (everything you wore was pretty, but the style changed into something slightly more mature, but clearly still appropriate for your age. You had stopped wearing such clothing once the worthless man rejected you in favor for a woman who would cheat on him a month into the relationship. It was funny.

And little did he know that Dion was the one who steered that woman to his direction - money speaks louder than words. And carnal lust sometimes overtakes genuine feelings, especially when the 'love interest' was saving themselves for marriage. Not always, but there's always that one person).

It was a fleeting crush, but a crush is still a romantic and perhaps even a physical attraction - did you imagine that man kissing you? Hold you in a warm hug? Holding hands in the stairwell as you both escape from the busy ball room? Did you imagine whispering sweet nothings to each other under the stars?

No.

He wouldn't have it.

He noticed it during a gathering one day. Narrow crimson eyes as the second floor railing cracked under his grip, holding back every urge that would result in bloodshed.

You giggled with that man. Shyly smiled like a school girl. Seek him out in crowds. Brushed your fingers against his by 'accident' and whenever that would happen a faint shade of pink would spread on the apple of his cheeks. Innocent 'love' that you clearly deserved, but Dion has always been selfish.

Too selfish.

When you confessed, his nails broke skin, digging into his palm as he balls them into fists. He saw red. He thought about killing the bastard, but you were in Yggdrasil. Neutral land that was on the verge of cracking if someone made a move. Peace was never stable but breaking it right now?

Probably a bad idea.

The man told you, after a long pause, that he would think about it.

Obviously, you felt dejected. And Dion wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, keep you, chain you up, hide you, isolate you -

Dion Agriche was always selfish. So much so that he put aside his true nature just to have you. But his leash is thin, ready to snap. No matter how much he wants you to want him in the same manner he does, he tries to keep his claws and teeth hidden.

Without realizing it, he had become your dog.

It's your fault. You changed him. Ruined him and there's an ugly part of him that wants to ruin you. Of course, he doesn't want to break you, he wants you to smile genuinely at him, maybe even kiss him.

He always feels disgusted with himself. But he yearns for you.

So much so that he made a plan to have the man walk away from you. He was 18, Dion's age, but his sexual urges were starting to show.

A woman who agreed to seduce him for money and to break his heart.

A knife grazing his neck. Hands around his neck as he choked him. Promises to ruin him and his family.

Listen, it's not just a crush to him. It's competition. A threat. Only because it's you, and the fear in your eyes the day you got rejected when you met his eyes? It could have driven you to another man, had you figured out he wanted you.

It's not a crush.

It's you taunting the beast that is Dion Agriche.

#yandere x reader #yandere #twtptflob #dion agriche #dion agriche x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #yandere dion agriche #male yandere #yandere x you #twtptflob x reader #roxana #deon agrece

52 notes · View notes

fictioonbanger · 2 years ago

Text

reader in denial a bit with bestie eren!

eren x black reader

sub eren hinted a bit, alcohol usage, rough sex, facd fucking, smut, profanity.

thinking about how you and eren fuck almost every night, and i mean every night when eren finally realizes you need him as much as he needs you. but you both dont have a title yet, now dont get eren wrong. he would love a title, he wants to call you his, and for you to do the same. you just don’t know how to take it, your bestfriend of childhood being your boyfriend. it was always what you wanted, but how would it seem to others around you both when you denied multiple times already. no one to blame but yourself for digging it deeper and now being a little werry of wanting to admit your feeling for eren.

eren doesnt let you both not having a title keep you away from each other. he loved you, that was a fact and obvious. on the other hand you might say no if someone were to ask if you and eren were dating. eren on the other hand tells the full honest truth.

“nah we not together, but she still mine as i am of hers.” eren spoke sipping his cup of alcohol at the bar him and his friends were at

“so she has you under a leash?” jean chuckled taking his last of alcohol fully and tilting his head back.

eren mean mugged him and spoke up glaring at his snarky comment. “no, she doesnt.. and if she did it wouldnt be too bad.” eren shrugged and his friends laughed he rolled his eyes and looked away. day dreaming about you and how he’d kill to be with you right now.

and thats exactly what he did, except of the killing part. he grabbed his keys off the stand and began getting off the stool. “where ya goin?” armin tilted his head to look at eren from over jean. “hes gonna see his little owner.” jean chuckled to himself at his own joke causing both them to roll their eyes. “its better than being with shitface over here.” eren stood and started to walk towards the door, jean scoffed rolling his eyes and ordering another drink.

you were in your room of your pretty decorated apartment, pink picture frames, gray marbled counters, stuffed animals on your couch and little lights everywhere was how you’d describe your apartment. eren, would say different “ ‘ts too pink, make my eyes hurt baby.” hed mock you and cover his eyes as you rolled yours, the “baby” word going completely over your head. it wasnt out of the blue for eren to call you petnames, i mean you’ve asked him before and all his response is. “what? you dont like them pretty?” of course you’re gonna say you do, thats how you felt and honestly hoped he didnt stop.

you were watching a movie on your laptop snacking on whatever was in the kitchen, getting distracted by a message at 11:12pm. you really knew who it was though, eren comes at this time. not everyday of course but only when hes been out or busy.

eren <3; im at the door ma

you; mhm here i come.

rolling out of bed and straddling through your living room and towards the front door you began unlocking it. finishing then opening the door to see erens slim figure in the doorway. he had already a cracked smile on his face, he couldnt wait to see you. its been awhile and it was his fault, he knew hed have to make up for it. he thought you’d greet him with a hug and a peck on the cheek, the usual. instead you stared at him for a bit before turning around and letting him. not saying a word eren sighed and closed the door locking it then began to walk behind you. he slid his hands on each side of ur waist and put his head on your shoulder from behind. “cmon y/n, im sorry you havent seen me in awhile..i havent been ghosting you honest.” he spoke softly in your ear, he sounded so sincere and pretty upset he hadnt seen you either. “been real busy..you know id rather be here.” he said as you stood in place as he rocked you both softly side to side as he held onto you.

“doesnt matter to me..not like we’re together right?” you looked away to the side, you knew your words were bad. and that they wouldnt effect eren, he listens to all your fits and upsets. doesnt bother him a bit, only about the situation that made you feel that way in the first place. other than that he knows how to get you out that state. “dont be so mean y/n.. you hurtin my feelings.” he said sarcastically removing away from you and fake grabbing his heart. “im serious eren-“ “how about we change that then?” you were shocked at his words, eyes widening and you quickly turning to look at him. “what?” you spoke softly eyes glistening a bit and gazed upon erens face. “can we please change it..” eren spoke up then got onto his knees infront of you, holding onto your legs with both hands. he put his face by your stomach and inhaled your scent he loved so much. “i really want you y/n.. want you to be mine.” he mumbled looking up at you. you were hot in the face, feeling your blood rise up to your cheeks. “i-i want you too ren..” you spoke softer, gazing down at how he held onto you.

and this just made eren so much bolder, your emotion changing quickly at how swift he moved to leaning over you. he held your waist again and peered into your orbs with his green ones, a snarky smile on his face. “you do?” he questioned tilting his head down at you reaching close to your face. your lips barely touching as you breathed in each others air. “badly.” you breathed out, thats all eren needed to hear before sweeping you off your feet. carrying you with both hands on your ass supporting your legs wrapped around him. walking you both towards your opened bedroom noses touching as eren goes in for a kiss. you took in his tongue and slipped past your own, moaning into it and squeezing around eren. he chuckled and laid you onto the bed, he was leaning over your body. humping his hard crotch into your clothed cunt in missionary. he groaned staring at just how your face looks when he makes you feel good.

eren didnt hold back the whole night, putting you in positions you didnt know you were capable of. he fucked you into a babbling mess under him. “ ‘s too much!! cant take i-it ren!” you squealed out as he pushed deeper hitting the spot he hit earlier making you yet orgasm again. your eyed rolled in the back of your head as you released onto him, cum dripping down and sliding his shaft wetting his balls. eren saw this and looked up to were your mouth was open. he smirked and quickly grabbed a fist full of your braids making you do a soft yelp that moved into a low moan. “how bout you clean your mess up hm?” with a handful he moved you up and towards his leaking dick with his precum standing pearly off the tip and your cum that covered it. you willingly took him fully into your mouth without another word, you let him into your throat and placed soft kisses on his tip. feeling your throat once eren couldnt get enough and forced your head onto him more, now guiding you. you loved when eren was like this, when he was in control. he liked when youd do it to, but pleasuring you more was his ideal choice. you licked him up and jerked him off while doing it making erens toes curl. he tried to move away at a point but was stopped by a hard hand on his thigh that kept him down. “m-m gonna fuckin cum..” he seethed out through his teeth as his hips started to move on his own fucking your face as you kinda took control. he was eager to nut and his hips had a mind of their own chasing his high. you took him fully one last time in your throat as erens hips buckled. he grabbed ahold of your head pushing it down one last time as he came into your mouth. moaning a loud mess and breathing ever so heavily, he caressed your cheek hand leaving your head, wiping away the tears that poured while he face fucked you.

“this means you’re mine now yeah?” eren thumb was still wiping under your eye, tilting his head he slowly moved it to your plumped lips parting them and making way for his thumb. you took it into your mouth and gave it a soft suck as you kissed it after

“mm yeah.” was your response, and it couldnt have made eren happier hearing this. causing you both to go into your 7th round? counting yes.

#black reader #black y/n #eren smut #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren x you #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader smut #eren jeager smut #eren headcanons #eren x black yn

963 notes · View notes

deadgirlsnoring · 1 year ago

Text

* Dirty boy * — sub!coriolanus snow

Content - sub!coryo, humiliation kink, gagging, slightly sadistic reader , slight dacryphilia, overstimulation, black!reader. Mdni !

Who would’ve thought that the great Coriolanus Snow, soon to be president would look so pretty all tied up? His eyes met yours, unshed tears blurred his vision. “Aww, don’t you cry, I haven’t even started yet.”

It all started when he began having a weird obsession with you. You’d see him creeping around you, always being where you were at the right time.

You were gonna trip? Suddenly he appeared like a knight in shining armour. At first you thought how cute, your own body guard, but that didn’t last long. He must’ve realized this all seemed orchestrated, because the boy suddenly stopped appearing, instead little minions would.

Flowers on your doorstep from an ‘unknown lover’. You weren’t dumb, it was all too obvious.

“Sooo, little one. What d’ya wanna do?” You softly caressed his skin with the flogger situated in your hand, a small pout on your face when he visibly flinched. “I wouldn’t hurt you, not the way you wouldn’t like at least.”

Tugging the homemade gag out of his mouth he took a deep breath of air, sighing at the way it filled up his lungs.

“Fuck you.” He spit out, the tears flowing down his cheeks gently.

“How sweet” you mumbled, before roughly turning the flogger onto his hip, “F-Fuck! God… mm please.” You looked around the room, your manicured finger lying gently on your bottom lip. “Oh.. Gods not gonna save you. You’re mine to ruin now, mine to hurt.”

A creepy smile crept on your face, placing the flogger down to crawl above him, careful not to let his body touch yours. You were in your favourite set, hugged every curve. He wanted you under his control, but bad boys don’t they what want, they get want they deserve.

“Coryo baby, don’t get sad. Mommy’s gonna help you okay?”, his heart fluttered, and he nodded, just before you finished your sentence. “In my own special way.”

His eyes landed on your chest, whilst trying to buck his hips up towards your center, anything to get off.

“Such a dirty boy, huh?” You leaned your bottom half down, a dramatic expression plastered on your pretty little face. “Mhmm..” He dragged out, but it wasn’t to your liking.

Why don’t boys know what you want without having to say it?

Your palm met the side of his face, gasping at the power of your own slap you giggled, doing it again, and again. “You better fucking say it.” He kept rutting up against you, his wetness seeping onto your panties.

“Aht aht, go on.” You lifted yourself out of his reach, a raspy whine escaping his lips. Kicking his lips he made an attempt to speak.

He wasn’t submissive, it didn’t come easy, “I’m a-a—I won’t say it.” The boy braced for impact, but you wouldn’t give him it.

Instead your hands massaged his smooth, white chest. Thinking he got through it, a sigh came out but was soon turned into a scream.

He couldn’t believe it, you bit his nipple. “Holy fuck! St-stop. What the fuck?”

Your hand roughly gripped onto his chin, “Oh come on, that’s the worst someone’s ever done to you? I will ruin you. You won’t be president, you’ll be some slut when I’m done with you, you’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Panem’s personal cumslut.”

“I wonder what everybody’s gonna think of you. Do they really want a man who drools over any woman to be their president? They might even kill you.”

Nails digging into his skin made him moan out, gritting his teeth. Trailing your sharp nails down to his scorching hot cock, you gripped the base.

Hungrily, your big pouty lips met his. At first it was rough, two alpha animals fighting to the death, but only one could live to tell the tale.

The rough pace on his tip caused him to slip up, becoming overtaken by you. The groans escaping his teeth grew louder and louder, his body shaking as he was getting closer and closer to his release. The knot tightened, the burning fire in the pit of his stomach beginning to get too hot.

He couldn’t breathe, you took all his air from the kiss; attack on his lips. A line of spit intertwined between your lips. His red and swollen, and yours being the cause of it.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Nodding his head incoherently, his body was about to grow stiff, until everything stopped.

You ruined his orgasm.

His brain was about to turn to mush at your own hands, but you stopped it.

Before the whining could start, you covered his mouth and nose, before resuming your fight with his leaking cock.

“You like that? Getting your dick ruined by a pretty girl? You fucking disgust me.” Seeing him losing air but seeming not care because it looked like you might let him cum made you more hungry for a man like him.

A pathetic man, who could only hold his dominance for so long.

You could tell he was gonna cum, the way he was trying to grasp for something knowing his hands and legs were tied down. The way his brows furrowed.

You wanted to hear the beautiful sounds a dumb little man like him could make, “Go on, cum. Just know I’m not stopping.”

His eyes rolled back, made you snicker as you continued your abuse. “Can, can I t-touch you?” He embarrassedly whimpered.

“Filthy boys don’t touch expensive things.” before he could say anything else your fingers made their way into his mouth, unwanted of course. A choked cry, and an open jaw was all he could manage as his body shook in your cold embrace.

“So much fucking cum, god you’re so dirty.” His high made him see white, static almost. Best orgasm in his lame, by the rules life.

His poor, spent body twitched even after you let go, your finger picked up his slick and waved it in front of his face.

Coryo’s tongue lazily licked his lips, his eyes low and drunken. In a low and torn voice he mumbled, “I-I’m such a fucking dirty boy, please can…. Can I?” His voice cracked while he looked up at you with those blue eyes.

“Oh, please. Fuck, mommy…please.” You obeyed; it’s what he deserved, but just because he asked nicely didn’t mean he was gonna get it nice.

You bruised his throat with your fingers, making him taste himself while touching the back of his throat.

The man gagged, but all he could do was take it. Take the pain and shut the fuck up.

“It’s good?” You asked, pulling your wet saliva coated fingers from his mouth, “S’good”, he coughed out, an amused expression on his face.

His hips bucked up and he winced at the feeling of overstimulation. Never had he ever exceeded that level of intensity before.

“Hurts, shit.” Your eyes looked deep into his soul as you only focused on his tip, your teeth nipped his earlobe, moving lower to aggressively kiss his neck.

“M’gonna cum again, I don’t want to. Please.. oh God please, fuccck.”

“Do you want me to take a picture of you? Show everybody how much of a pathetic fucking whore you are? You don’t know how far I’m willing to go Coriolanus. Shut up, and take it.”

Your words only made him more excited, until it set in that you were being for real. You extended your hand to your dresser, grabbing a Polaroid camera.

Keeping your hand wrapped around his aching cock you kept pumping. “No! Fuck you!, please c’mon n-no.”

He was about to explode and you knew it, and when he did you couldn’t resist. Had to keep it in memory.

The mans cock squirted out his holy liquid, it felt so good he almost forgot about the photo. You snapped more and more while his eyes were closed, calming down from his tough orgasm.

“I’m gonna keep on going until my hand aches coryo.”

xo, reblog and like!

#black!fem!reader #dom reader #dom!reader #sub character #black fem reader #black reader #black!reader #sub!coryo #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #corio snow

222 notes · View notes

wrxangel · 9 months ago

Text

Johnny Joestar with Yandere Reader

a/n: I've been listening to NEW MAGIC WAND by Tyler the Creator, perfect song for obsessing and being crazy over Johnny lol

cw: violence and gruesome scenes, possessive and obsessive reader, dark thoughts

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

The camp was quiet, save for the crackling of a fire and the soft murmurs of conversation. You sat close to Johnny, your shoulder brushing against his ever so slightly. His Kentucky drawl filled the air as he talked, telling you stories from his past races—his voice like a melody you never tired of hearing. Every word he spoke made you feel like you were sinking deeper into a warm, comforting fog.

You smiled at him, soft and sweet, the way you always did. You were gentle. Kind. Everything Johnny seemed to need after everything he’d been through. Your presence made him comfortable, and the way his blue eyes sometimes lingered on you—longer than on anyone else—told you everything you needed to know. He liked you. You could see it in the way he blushed when you touched his hand, how he stumbled over his words sometimes when you smiled just right.

“Y-you’re… uh, you’re easy to talk to,” Johnny muttered, his gaze shyly dropping to the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was quiet, like he was nervous.

You giggled softly, your heart fluttering. You loved that he was so bashful around you. Loved how his cheeks would flush whenever you gave him even the slightest bit of attention. It made your heart swell with adoration. You leaned in just a little, close enough that your breath brushed his cheek, and you whispered, "I like talking to you too, Johnny."

His face turned red, and he looked away quickly, swallowing hard. "Y-yeah, well, it's nice… havin' someone like you around."

You giggled again, feeling the warmth of your affection for him spread through your chest. But beneath that soft, tender exterior—beneath the sweetness that made Johnny blush and stammer—was something darker. A shadow that clung to your thoughts whenever another woman dared to approach him.

Like tonight.

Your smile faltered slightly as you saw her. That fangirl was back again. The one who hovered like a vulture every time Johnny and Gyro took a break. You watched her now, that sickly-sweet smile on her face as she talked to him, giggled at something he said. The sight of her was a thorn in your chest. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t know him like you did. She didn’t understand him like you did.

She doesn’t belong here. What, did she think he's up for grabs?

I fucking hate sharing.

Johnny turned toward her, an uncomfortable frown in place, and you saw the way she leaned in too close, the way her hand touched his arm. Your heart twisted violently in your chest, and the darkness inside you flared up, uncoiling like a serpent.

You felt your teeth grind together, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Your hands, which usually rested so gently in your lap, were curled into fists, nails digging into your palms so hard it almost bled.

I should kill her.

The thought came easily now, like a whisper that slipped into your mind, soft and persuasive. It was rational—necessary even. You could see it so clearly. Her fragile little neck in your hands, bones snapping like brittle twigs. The light in her eyes dimming, flickering out, as her life drained away. You’d feel her heartbeat stutter beneath your fingers, watch her struggle, watch the fear bloom in her eyes when she realized she’d never get to speak to Johnny again. Not ever.

Why does she think she can touch him? He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

You clenched your fists, the sickening saccharine smile still on your face, but your mind was racing. Images flashed through your thoughts—dark, terrible thoughts. You imagined her gone. Erased. Out of the picture, like she never existed. You imagined your Stand, the one that had awakened after you crossed the Devil's Palm with Johnny and Gyro, wrapping around her throat, squeezing until she disappeared like smoke in the wind.

I need to get her out of the picture.

Johnny’s voice reached your ears again, low and guarded for someone who was clearly unwanted.

These goddamn bitches didn't know how to properly approach him. They were clearly fucking too stupid to handle him, with the way they endlessly chattered, sounding like a bunch of annoying chihuahuas with the way they demanded his attention.

They didn’t fucking know what it was like to need him, crave him, like air, like blood. They didn’t know what it was like to feel like your world would collapse if he so much as looked at someone else.

You shifted closer to Johnny, your fingers gently brushing his hand, drawing his attention away from her.

“Johnny,” you said sweetly, your voice soft, “do you want to come help me with the horses?”

His eyes flickered to you, and you saw the faint blush creep up his neck again. He nodded quickly, like he was relieved to have an excuse to leave the conversation. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

The bitch’s smile faltered, but she quickly covered it up, giving Johnny a lingering look. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you saw her disappointment.

Good. She should be disappointed. She should know that Johnny wasn’t hers. He wasn’t anyone’s but yours.

The thought of her hands touching him, her fingers brushing against his skin—it made you fucking sick. Your stomach twisted with revulsion, but more than that, with rage. You could feel it building inside you, dark and violent, a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path.

I’ll crush her batshit ugly skull.

The image was vivid in your mind. Her head in your hands, blood pouring from her broken mouth, eyes wide with terror. You’d leave her body in the dirt, somewhere far away where no one would ever find her.

She’d be just another forgotten casualty in the Steel Ball Run. Another nameless girl lost to the wilderness.

As you walked away with Johnny wheeling himself beside you, your hand brushing his shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel the rush of satisfaction fill you. She was nothing. Just another obstacle in the way of what you and Johnny had. But obstacles could be removed. With your Stand, it was so easy. You could make her vanish, like magic.

The two of you reached the stables, and Johnny looked to you, offering a small, awkward smile. “Thanks, I uh… didn’t really wanna talk to her.”

Your heart soared at his words, even though a darker part of you whispered, Of course you didn’t. She’s not like me. She could never be like me.

You smiled sweetly at him, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from his face. “I know, Johnny,” you said softly. “I just wanted to protect you.”

His blush deepened, and he looked away, clearly flustered. “Y-you’re always lookin’ out for me, huh?”

Your fingers lingered on his skin for just a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, letting your hand fall to your side. I always will. No one else deserves to be near you. No one else can love you like I do.

As Johnny leaned up to check on one of the horses, your thoughts drifted back to the annoying bitch from earlier. She was still out there, probably waiting for another chance to talk to Johnny. To touch him again.

She won’t get the chance.

Your Stand stirred within you, waiting, eager to act. You didn’t even have to go back to camp. You could do it from here—send your Stand to take care of her, to eliminate the threat without anyone ever knowing.

I’ll do it for you, Johnny. I’ll do anything for you.

Your smile remained soft, kind, as you watched Johnny work. He was so perfect, so fragile, and you needed to protect him. From the fangirls, from anyone who thought they could have a piece of him. They didn’t deserve him.

I’ll make her disappear.

The darkness in your mind whispered promises of safety, of a world where it was just you and Johnny. Where no one could come between you. Where no one else mattered.

“Johnny?” you asked, your voice gentle.

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The way he looked at you—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat, enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

“Yeah?”

You smiled, stepping closer to him, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. “I’ll always protect you, Johnny,” you whispered, your voice sweet as honey. “No one will ever hurt you.”

He blinked, surprised by the intensity of your words, but he smiled shyly, his cheeks flushed. “I know you will,” he mumbled, stumbling over his words like he always did when you were this close.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his cap, and watched with satisfaction as his blush deepened. He had no idea. No idea how far you’d go for him. How deep your love ran. How much you were willing to destroy to keep him safe.

You’re mine, Johnny.

And anyone who tried to take him away? They’d be gone.

Like magic.

Without another moment of hesitation, you let your Stand slip into the night, invisible to the eyes of those around you. It moved like a shadow, gliding through the dark with lethal precision. The girl didn’t even notice as it crept up behind her, hovering just out of sight.

You didn’t need to raise a hand. You didn’t need to say a word. Your Stand already knew what you wanted, what you craved. With a single thought, it struck—silent, deadly.

It was a great thing, Stands. And if you didn't have one...

You couldn't see them.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the chance.

Her body stiffened, eyes widening in shock as the invisible force closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe. Her hands flew to her neck, clawing at the air, gasping for breath, but it was futile. Her limbs convulsed, her face twisting in agony as the life was squeezed from her lungs.

You watched, your heart racing not with fear, but with satisfaction.

She collapsed to the ground, her body limp, her face frozen in terror. You felt a dark satisfaction settle over you as you stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward your shared camp with Johnny and Gyro. The rest of the camp had fallen into a quiet hum, unaware of the crime you’d just committed in plain sight.

No one would ever know. No one would care.

Johnny’s head turned toward you, and when he saw you walking toward him, a soft blush spread across his cheeks. He smiled—that smile—the one that made your heart stutter, the one that made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

Gyro grinned at you, waving with a Nyoho!, perfectly unaware of your sins. One he'd surely be disgusted by if he knew.

And he'd surely convince Johnny to leave, if he ever found out.

Well, it's a good thing that nasty little pest was taken care of. That way, Gyro wouldn't do that!

Right?

Johnny patted the spot right next to him, always eager to have you near him.

He's so damn cute.

“We can finally be together,” you whispered, your voice soft, loving, as though you hadn’t just snuffed out a life moments ago.

Together.

The word echoed in your head, images of you and Johnny spending the rest of your lives together flashed like it was your last moment alive.

Johnny blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t know. He would never know. All that mattered was that he was here, with you, now. There was nothing stopping you from being at his side forever.

“I…” Johnny’s voice wavered slightly, his blush deepening. “I’ve always felt like—well, like I could count on you. Like you’re always there.”

He smiled again, that shy, boyish grin that made you weak in the knees.

"Always and forever!" You beamed, lips bitten and cracked from endless nights of habitually chewing them while fantasizing about him.

For now, another problem was gone.

Like magic.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

#jjba #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #jjba part 7 #jjba sbr #johnny joestar x reader #johnny joestar imagine #jojo sbr #jojos bizarre adventure

64 notes · View notes

madockisser · 9 months ago

Note

I just read How the king of Elfame learned to hate stories, the "So long as you are begging, he doesn't mind a bit." line at the end of the blurb stuck in my mind

He mentions begging in the books. Although he also begs Jude at some point iirc

Do you have any thoughts about how this almost power dynamic is important to him? Or why he'd be fond of it

I'm not sure how to word it properly, he's in a precarious position with the rest of his siblings for a good part of his life, Balekin manipulates him amongst other things.

why is cardan such a sadist?/ cardans struggle w power

hi! great question, i hope i answer it to your liking!

from what we can tell of cardan and his character, he doesn’t have much. he has his status as prince, and that is all that he can cling to. it’s his only advantage.

we know that he is not fond of courtiers, faking their admiration for him, allowing him to slap and use them; all while they can go home to someone they truly love.

all his life he assumes that cruelty gets him what he wants, it ensures that he keeps the little amount of power that he has, while his brothers scheme and kill for the throne, he hurts and humiliates those that question his power.

but any sort of dig against ppl, making them feel lesser so he can feel greater, making jude beg and submit to him so he no longer has to feel anything for her, so she won’t consume his thoughts with her disobedience, gives him that small amount of power, since a human girl opposing him, all while he sorta loses that battle against her, makes him look weak. in the eyes of his friends, family and the court/gentry

anyway, while he ofc can “fall out of favor” w his siblings, those sort of relationships w them do not matter to him, he insults caelia to her face in htkoelths, he does not care for dain, he cares a bit for rhyia, perhaps bc he sees most of himself in her, the way she is casual when it comes to her royal duties, and bc she is kind to him when the rest are not, when the rest have deemed him as balekins princely little monster, with an awful prophecy over his head.

what matters to him is his father, not that he likes him much but he still strives for what seems like attention from him. so he is cruel and sadistic for the sake of his father taking notice of him, bc thats all he knows

in twk, jude finds a crystal ball where asha neglects cardan until he hits another boy, and at that she laughs greatly and pays attention to him. being cruel is all he knows, the only way for him to be seen by his father, even if it is bad attention, atleast it is attention at all.

as for that power dynamic, again, he relishes in any chance to show ppl he is powerful, that he is important, even when he really isn’t.

so as jude opposes him, he is reminded time and time again that not only does jude have everything he wants, a loving family, but she has a strange sort of power over him, the power to make him feel not only desire but eventual care for her well being. which isn’t a feeling that he feels often

pair those feelings with the fact that she is human, and the fact that balekin encourages him to kill humans but cardan instead frees them, and takes beatings for them, he is very conflicted and angry and upset at his feelings for her.

he doesn’t want to care, it would be easier to act as though he has a heart of stone.

i assume his feelings make him feel awfully powerless, which is obviously a feeling he does not like, since he consistently goes out of his way to show his power to the court by acting without consequence and casting those that get in his way out of court.

anyway, later on he is begging to jude because at this point, i think he’s realized just how far gone he is in his love for her. he is vulnerable w her in a way that he never was w nicasia or anyone.

w nicasia he flaunted his power, pretended that he was more important and influential than he was, w nicasia he formed his group of friends that took advantage of his power and hurt him w it.

but w jude, he felt powerless bc of the powers she had over him, first off, his desire for her, second, his love for her, and third, ofc the bargain that quite literally made him her slave.

until jude, his sadistic power dynamics were used to hurt those around him, but then he learned that he’d much rather feel powerless so long as jude is there w him. he’d also learned that he can be useful, which he’d never thought before jude. he learned that he doesn’t have to hurt and lash out for a power thrill, that he can be powerful in being a good high king.

jude was the only person that taught him that he could be loved and worth something at all, without having to reach out and claw that love from someone’s hands.

jude and cardan understand each other in a way no one else in their lives ever bothered to.

and abt the begging part, im sure he also likes to simply see jude begging as well. after all they put each other thru, im sure they both like seeing each other beg.

hope this answered your question! if not, feel free to leave another ask!! 🫶🫶 and feel free to add on as always!

also i just want to add, i see everyone’s asks, and am working on quite a few, though i am still doing my reread, which is why it’s taking so long to get to my older asks! so sorry!! i answer the newer ones if they are easy to answer, w things that i already know w out having to grab my books to look for it.!

61 notes · View notes

ikamigami · 27 days ago

Text

Some Harleith out of context if anyone is interested :3c

I finally found it in myself to sit and write down this part of my future fic. At first I wasn't sure if I should write cause it happens somewhere in the middle of the story QwQ but here it is nxnxnxnxnxmxnxn

TW: they're half-naked and they do some uhhh weird stuff lol though it's nothing explicit; anyway it's 18+ cause whole fic will be 18+ (also mature audience due to heavy topics).

My silly scribbles are under the cut (also some things may change when I finally sit to write my fic but I hope someone will like what I posted here QwQ)

Also sorry for my poor English cause it isn't my native language.

(it's Leith's p.o.v.)

We were both sitting on his bed panting heavily after a quick session of whatever the hell we were doing. It wasn't sex and we weren't even kissing. We weren't hugging either. It couldn't even be considered romantic. We were just grabbing fiercely at and digging nails and sinking our teeth in each other's skin. Though it wasn't brawl either. Even though if someone caught us together like that they would think that we just fought.

I looked at his chest moving up and down. His skin looked pale even with lights turned off. I could see due to faint light coming from outside glistering sweat on his chest. One of sweatdrops found its way to his nipple. "Why am I looking at his nipples?" my mind wondered but the thought quickly faded away as shiver ran through my body. Only then I realized how cold it was here. I looked at my own chest moistured by sweat. As usual scratches and bruises were almost gone as expected.

I still couldn't understand why was I doing this. Why was I getting closer to him? "It's because you want to break him, remember." I repeated in my head though I didn't feel confident in that. Not anymore. When I looked up I saw his face marely an inch in front of me. I flinched slightly.

- Boo! - Harley whisper-blowed at my face. - Got ya. - he looked at me smugly. In dark room his eyebags caused his eyes to look like they were lurking from the the darkest depths of well.

I rolled my eyes at him and smirked. - You're not scary. - I bared my teeth in sly grin.

- You're not fooling anyone, Leith. - he singsonged baring his teeth as well. - I still remember how you tried to hide from me. - he smiled deviously.

- Oh and I still remember what happened two months ago, in the bathroom. - my smile grew wider and I snickered though I felt for a moment a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. He rolled his eyes at me.

- Ugh - Harley was visibly repulsed by the memory of that event. - Don't mention it ever again. - he almost barked. I snickered at his response. - And don't laugh. - he looked at me as if he could kill me with his glare. My smile grew even wider. I wasn't exactly sure what was so funny in Harley's reaction but for some reason it felt nice.

"No! You weren't supposed to fall for his tricks. Dammit! Is this how he wrapped Yarnaby around his little finger?" Thoughts flew quickly through my mind. I shook my head not wanting to even think about it. I was still smiling at him which made him more irritated.

- Did anyone tell you, that you're annoying? - he huffed and grimaced. I only snickered at that. - I guess not enough times. - he rolled his eyes again and his frown deepened. I chuckled and felt that my cheeks got warmer. Harley looked as if he was getting ready to jump at me baring his teeth like a wild animal when I remembered why I actually went to him.

- Wait! - I raised my hands instinctively in self-defense and he stopped himself with mouth still wide open. He snapped his jaw loudly disappointed that he didn't get to sink his teeth in my neck. I smiled a bit sheepishly. The nagging feeling got back and my body tensed and started filling slowly with dread. - I wanted.. to apologize to you for.. before... - words barely strained out of my mouth. I shifted my gaze to my hands and started absentmindedly playing with my fingers. It felt awkward. It wasn't normal. I rarely apologized to anyone for anything. But I really felt the need to. I felt that I should do so. It only felt right.

The awkward silence lasted agonizingly long. I was unable to look at Harley at that moment. It was so unlike me it felt embarrassing though I didn't know exactly why. A sudden icy-cold touch to my forehead tore me out of my thoughts. I gasped quietly as slight shiver went through my body.

- Are you okay? - he asked me seriously as I looked up at him. To say he was dumbfounded by my sudden apology would be an understatement. His brows were knitted and corners of his mouth were pulled down in comically deep frown. He looked at me as if I was possessed by a demon. - You don't seem to have a fever, hmm. - he took his hand from my forehead observing me carefully as if he tried to dissect what was going on in my head to cause such an unexpected occurrence.

- Yeah, I'm fine. - I replied as if I didn't apologize out of the blue just a moment ago. He opened his mouth slightly as if he wanted to say something but he immediately closed it. He seemed even more confused than before. - Harley, I'm serious. Can't I apologize for anything? - I asked in fake offense as if apologizing was a part of my daily vocabulary.

- Hmm let me think. No. - he deadpanned. I rolled my eyes feeling more and more unease. I didn't know how to explain why I apologized. For obvious reasons I didn't know how to address the elephant in the room. It would only sour the mood further. - People like us don't apologize. Unless we want something. - he continued with dead-serious tone. He was right but this time it was different. Though a part of me was curious what exactly happened to Harley. And this was the real reason to why I came here in the first place. I wanted to know but I didn't know how to start such conversation. Apology didn't seem like the best idea but it felt right to do that first and not just jump straight to the point.

- Mmm yeah. - I looked up at the ceiling and instinctively ran my hand through my dark hair combing few lose strands of hair back. I didn't know how should I start this conversation. The dread was killing me from the inside. - Though.. I apologize.. genuinely. Sometimes. Unlike you. - I couldn't bring myself to look at him but I could feel his eyeroll anyway. - Do you remember what you told me back then in the bathroom? - I blurted out to not let him speak. I exhaled through nose not to show how much this was stressing me out.

- What? - even without looking at him I could see his shocked expression. I could feel the anger building up inside him. He scoffed. - Oh you think that you can play with me like that? - the sarcasm was dripping from every word he said. - You think that it's oh so easy to get me on my knees? - I heard him putting his shirt back on himself and standing up from the bed. I was taken aback but not entirely surprised by his reaction. I shouldn't expect less.

- Wait! - I tried to explain myself when he tossed my shirt at my face.

- Leave! - he only barked. When I tried to say something he glared at me shooting daggers with his stare. I flinched slightly under his gaze. - I told you not to mention it ever again. Which part of that sentence did you not understand? - every word was full of venom. At that moment I realized that it wasn't the best time to talk about it. "But when would it be?" I thought to myself as I shook my head and put my shirt back on myself.

- Okay. Chill out. - I tried to lighten the mood a bit at which he only growled back. - I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Here. - I raised my hands to show that I'm compliant and I mustered a smile as I stood up from his bed and quickly backed up to the door. When I was leaving I catched the glimpse of cryptic look on Harley's face. It was too dark for me to tell if he was still angry at me or not. Only after I left and shut the door behind myself I realized that my heart was pounding hard in my chest.

"I'm not scared of him anymore." I tried to sooth myself. It wasn't like I was doing all of this solely because I wanted to break him because I was afraid of him. No, definitely not. It was an obvious lie but I didn't want to admit that to myself. Though another part of me felt something else. Something that I was even more afraid of than Harley himself. "It's definitely nothing. I just pity him." I reassured myself. "Of course! It's just a bit of sympathy. Everyone would feel the same if they knew." I still wasn't convinced about it. But I preferred it over reminiscing about the past and thinking too deeply about my feelings towards that bastard. It was easier to focus on his past and his feelings rather than mine.

#poppy playtime #ppt #ppt harley sawyer #ppt the doctor #ppt doctor #ppt leith pierre #dr harley sawyer #doctor harley sawyer #the doctor #harley sawyer #leith pierre #harleith #harley x leith #out of context #tw for evil men doing weird things #nnxnxnxnxnnxnznxnxnx

20 notes · View notes

ultralightpoe · 1 year ago

Text

Full House lll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Omg. Me? Staying on schedule? Never.

Word Count: 10112

Warnings: None? Idk.

Part One HERE and Part Two HERE

(Thank you for the gif @psychecreations )

Enjoy!

“When’s the first doctors appointment?” Nancy asks, walking up to where you were currently standing at your jobs wait station. You jump, dropping the order pad you had been scribbling in as you turn to find her leaning on the wall.

“What? Why are you here?”

“I was craving chicken and didn’t want to hear Steves kfc imitation. So we decided to come here.” She smiles, rubbing her stomach ever so slightly. “Plus it meant I got to check on you.”

“Oh I’m fine.” You lie, forcing a smile on your face as she narrows her eyes.

It’s been 4 days since the Christmas fiasco, and 4 days since you realized Eddie was leaving. You tried to pick yourself back up the day of Christmas but ended up telling everyone that you were really sick and should shut the party down early. They had all gone to Steves and you were truly embarrassed to think of what they might have been saying about you.

God, did you have to ruin everything you touched?

“You never answered my question.”

“Oh? I was just sick. It’s not a serious bug or anything. I just didn’t want to get you guys sick on Christmas. That would have been bad” you lie again, feeling a coiling feeling in your gut. “Why don’t you go sit?”

“Y/n, girl I love you. But you’re showing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Especially in this waitressing uniform.” It was true. Normally the old school 70s uniform fit you like a glove, falling just to your thighs and it made tips so much easier. Right now? It was on the tighter side…… which made tips even easier because your boobs looked great but you felt terrible about everything.

“Does he know?” Nancy asks, and you have to stop yourself from telling her or shove off. After a moment of silence she seems to take that for an answer. “Y/n….. Eddie needs to know.”

“Why? So I can trap someone else?” You laugh bitterly. “That poor guy has already put up with enough of my shit. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go grab tables.”

You walk past her, not giving her a chance to argue as you completely avoid looking to their tables direction and move to your own section of the floor to greet a new table.

Pam, one of your favorite regulars, sees you and greets you with a smile. “You never work Friday nights!”

You always spent Friday nights with Eddie and the girls for movie night. But Eddie ran and you needed to make rent so tonight Max was watching them.

“Starting now I will be. You want your usual babe?”

“You know it!.” She giggles.

Steve tried saying bye before they left and you pretended you didn’t see him as you took orders, by the end of the night your feet were killing you and you all but limped inside to where Max was sitting at the table doing college homework with her headphones on.

Either she didn’t have them loud or she was on edge, your guess being a bit of both, she knows you're there and turns to you when you enter the kitchen.

“Thank you so much Max.” You mumble, pulling out the tip money you had set aside for her. “I’m sorry I ran late.”

“No need to pay.” She smiles, pushing the money away. “I like spending time with them.”

That tight feeling in your stomach is back, digging in as you stare at the redhead. She had been part of the reason you chose Hawkins, Billy had (in one of his rare good moments) described the way Max seemed to blend in and find a home here. He told you about the friends she made and how she managed to grow into a brave person and you wanted that for your own. So, assuming she was gone, you moved out here. Little did you know you find her soon enough along with an entire group of people connected to your ex.

You had always been told max was dead.

Max had always been told Billy was dead.

You didn’t know how she figured you out until Eddie told you about VECNA and Lucas told you about his girlfriends sight for things.

“I…. I saw the tickets.” She admits, blush traveling her cheeks as you move to make a cup of tea. The cupboard was still broken and you couldn’t bear to look at it.

“What tickets?”

“You left your folder out on the table. I saw that you were figuring out where to go.” Max admits and you can’t help but tense.

“I just….. I don’t want the girls being surrounded by…..”

“Billy?”

“Yes…..” you admit, still keeping your back to her as you boil water. “And Eddie. I just don’t want them knowing that he left them. They adore him too much.”

Coward. Coward. COWARD.

“I’m not a mom, but I can get your urge to protect them.” Max mumbles. “But what if they end up hating you for taking them away.”

“Then they have someone to blame. I’d rather them blame me than themselves. It is my fault anyways.” You admit, tears springing into your eyes. “Anyways. Take the money, go have fun.”

“Do you need me again this week? I saw that you work on New Year’s Eve.”

“No. You should be going out with your friends.”

“The boys have a start of the year campaign and El is taking a trip with Hopper. I’m free.” She laughs, trying to break the tension built up. “I’ll be here at 2.”

You can’t get the words thank you out because of how tight your throat is, so you just mouth them as she grabs the money and passes.

Steve could not stop laughing when he saw Eddie’s face the day he brought the car into the shop, leaning over on his knees to catch his breath as he wheezed out.

Dylan, the other mechanic, kept looking over to watch the scene unfold as Eddie tried to focus on his friends car.

“Harrington.”

“Dude I know- it’s just that your face is so purp-hahaha.” Another fit of laughter and Eddie is debating throwing his drill at him. He was in no shape to be dealing with him today.

Truth was Eddie had barely gotten a wink of sleep, he couldn’t manage to. Not used to not having you beside him, or not having the girls night light and soft lullabies. It had been 5 days since he saw you and he was beginning to lose his mind and resolve.

Almost every night he nearly talked himself into going back, then he remembered Motleys broken cries as they carted him off and the way she clung to your hip. The way she screamed for her dad as Eddie attacked him.

Monster monster monster.

“Gotta give it to Hargrove. He knows how to punch.”

“Yeah well, hope he had his fun.” Eddie snaps, leaning back to make sure he adjusted the part correctly.

“Did you get him back?”

“I got a few licks in.” Eddie mumbles, feeling guilty about the pride that washes over him as he remembers the way he beat Billy's face in. That was motleys dad. As much as he enjoyed hitting him he probably just scarred the Metalhead for life.

“Oh a few licks.” Steve scoffs, moving to take a seat on the stool at Eddie’s workstation. “I know how strong you are Munson. You got more than a few licks in.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Motley was right there! She’s gonna hate me forever.” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh you mean more than they already do?” This pulls Eddie’s attention, he had been doing so good about not asking but he was dying to know. What had they said? Were they happy he’s gone? Mad that he fought Billy?

“What’d they say?”

“Not much of anything. Nancy knows something is up but your girl is keeping her lips sealed pretty well. I didn’t even know about your fight with jackass until I saw your face.”

“But you said they were mad.”

“Yeah man, you missed Christmas and just dipped. Leaves a bad impression.”

“Oh whatever. They are better off, I just ruin everything.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve gasps, looking at Eddie like he’s figured everything out. “You’re self sabotaging!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! You think you’re the bad guy and so you’re trying to run away which is just making you even more of a bad guy which means my wife can stop threatening to shave your head.”

“I….. no man you don’t get it.”

“I do get it. I get it more than anyone else and let me be the first to tell you that you’re being a massive idiot.” He sighs, standing up. “Motley was waiting by that window to spot you that entire day.”

“S……she was?”

“Yeah Munson. She was.”

“I just….. I don’t want to be the one holding them back. I don’t want her to hate me.”

“Did you ever think that maybe Motley chose you? Like you chose Wayne?” Steve asks, watching Eddie deflate before his eyes before turning to the car. “I’m not paying by the way. Consider my advice enough.”

“Ass.”

Eddie spends the day of New Year’s Eve by the phone, fighting the urge to call.

What would he say? How would he explain?

No. Don’t call. This is for the better.

Yes. Call. Just pick the phone just for the chance to hear your voice.

God damn when did life get so complicated?

“What are you doing?” Wayne asks, watching eddie from his spot on the couch. “Quit wearing down my carpet.”

The carpet has been worn down since Eddie had moved in, but he chooses not to comment instead he sits by the phone, keeping his pinky on the handle of the plastic and glaring at it.

“You expecting a call?”

“No.” Eddie groans, rubbing his chest to try and relieve some of the pain built up. God he missed you guys. “Fuck. I’m gonna go smoke.”

He rushes to the back porch before Wayne could argue, hearing the old man laugh as he slams the door.

There is a dog out there when he exits, chewing on a stick found from the trees and sitting right by the fence. Upon looking a little closer he sees that the dog actually seems caught under the fence, like he was trying to sneak in.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, keeping the joint between his lips as he walks up, socked feet stepping on sticks and stones making him grunt out and try walking on his tippy toes.

He looks back with a smile, expecting a giggle from one of the girls at his weird walk before he realizes he’s alone. Shit.

The dog is panting patiently when Eddie comes up, and the man reaches a hand to let him sniff before moving to help. The dog chooses to kiss at his arm, tongue lapping at the skin as Eddie lifts the fence to try and help free him.

“Why you sneaking in pal?” He grunts, bending the fence. “You hungry?”

Within moments the dog is out, jumping up and kissing at his face for being rescued. “God. Motley would love you.”

“Shhhhh Ziggy.” Motley whispers to her baby sister, pulling her closer to the corner. The way daddy eddie set up her room was perfect.

He had put her bed in the center which left a small corner by her nightstand hidden from the door.

Over the past week she had looked for Daddy Eddie’s number, finding it sprawled under the label emergency numbers where he had written it under Wayne.

It was so weird that Daddy Eddie called his dad Uncle Wayne. Adults were so confusing.

Before you had left for your shift that night you made sure to wish Motley a happy new year and made her promise to behave. Little did you know that she had crossed her fingers behind her back.

The second you were gone she dashed to grab the closest phone, pulling it into her room and hiding it as Max struggled to cook nuggets for dinner.

Later that night when Auntie Max was reading on the couch Motley tiptoed to Ziggys room before sneaking her sister out of her crib and tip toeing back as Ziggy giggles happily.

“Sissy…” She giggles, pulling at Motleys cheeks happily. “Zigsy.”

“No your Ziggy silly. I’m motley.” She corrects as she shuffles with her sister in an awkward half hold half walk carry until they are in the corner. “Okay Ziggy. Sissy needs your help. You remember the plan?”

“Zigzy!”

“Oh boy…..”

The phone rings late, and Eddie sits up in the couch to lean his upper body to answer it, stressed and annoyed.

The stray dog lifts their head, huffing at being woken up and tilting to hear, one ear shooting up. “Easy Zeppelin.”

The dog barks, and Eddie likes to think he enjoyed the name as he picks the phone up. “Munson residence.”

God it felt weird saying that again.

“DADDY!” Motley whispers, sounding scared. Eddie is instantly up, standing on his feet and swiping at his face to wake up a little more.

“Motley? What’s wrong baby?”

“Someone’s trying to get in daddy.”

“Get in where? Where are you?” He’s already reaching for his keys, heart beating through his ears as his hands shake.

“We’re at home.” She whines.

“Where’s mommy?”

“At work!” Fuck. “Okay. Okay. Just hide. Just like daddy told you, remember? If anything happens, hide. You know where Ziggy is?”

“She’s with me.”��

“Good girl. Get under your bed or in your closet. I’ll be right there.” He mumbles, calling out to Wayne to grab the phone before booking it out of the trailer.

He gives no time for the van to warm up, tearing out of the trailer park so quickly he’s sure he hit someone’s patio chair, mumbling under his breath a panicked “fuckfuckfuck”

The van is uneven as Eddie pulls in quickly, shifting gears to park so hard it makes a grinding sound before he is swinging the door open and tearing out. His feet hit the gravel before the grass as he rushes to the front door, using his shoulder to shove it open harshly.

A scream tears out in to the air at his entrance before a book is thrown at him which makes him yell out at whoever is in the house.

“EDDIE?!”

“MAXINE?!” He snaps, blinking at her. “What the fuck you doing?”

“What am I doing?! What are you doing?! You physco!”

“Motley said that someone was trying to break in!”

“I put Motley to bed an hour ago.” Max grunts, confusion lacing her features.

“You’re babysitting?”

“Obviously.”

“But her car is in the front.” Eddie felt like he was going crazy. “And since when does she work nights?!”

“Her car wouldn’t start so she took the bus today.” Max sighs, rolling her eyes. “And she needs extra cash. Probably for the plane tickets to get out of here.”

“Tickets out of….” Before Eddie can process her words any further there is a small pair of eyes looking around the corner drawing his attention.

Ziggy moves quickly, coming around the corner with a very excited giggle, walking to him as fast as her little feet would allow. “Da-Ed-ay!”

“Hey there baby girl.” He smiles, picking her up and swooping her into his arms to kiss all over her face. It was odd, just how much he missed this and it seemed like she had gotten so much bigger in the 4 days he missed.

“I swear to god I put her to bed. How did she get out of her crib?!” Max glares, right as the culprit behind it all comes rushing out to run at Eddie.

“I knew you’d come! I knew it daddy!” She giggles, running at him and throwing her arms around him tightly. “You came back!”

“Motley?” He starts, brain beginning to process what she was saying. “Did you…. Lie to get me here?”

“I did!” She smiles, peering up at him with big doe eyes. “I lied daddy! And now you’re here and you can take all my Barbie’s!”

“If you know lying is bad and you’ll get punished, why did you do it?” He asks, pulling her off before squatting to her level. “Metal head, that was very dangerous-“

A gust of air leaves him as her arms wrap around his neck tightly, tears springing from her eyes. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”

“Motley I’m not mad, that was just dangerous and it scare-“

“No! About Billy. I’m sorry daddy.” His heart plummets, his brain racking to figure out what she was talking about. Why was she sorry?

“No. No I’m sorry.” He sighs, turning to see Max staring at them intently. “Hey max. Think you can take Ziggy for a moment?”

“Sure thing mop head.” The redhead scoops Ziggy up causing the young toddler to scream and kick, reaching chubby fingers out for Eddie. As much as he wanted to take her back he had to focus on Motley.

“Come sit.” He nods his head, leading her to the kitchen table sitting in the chair beside hers and angling it so they were facing. “Listen….. Daddy ha- Well I have been feeling really bad about Christmas Eve. I never meant to do that, or to attack your dad in front of you.”

“But-“

“I owe you a big apology for that Motley. And I don’t know what you’re feeling sorry about, pretty girl, but it’s not your fault and you have no reason to be sorry.” He murmurs, swiping the tears that fall from her cheek. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I told Billy he couldn’t come for Christmas Daddy!” She blurts, her tears hit against his thumb as he keeps swiping her cheek. “I’m sorry!”

“No no no. You don’t be sorry.” He moves to pick her up, sitting her on his lap with her face pressed into his chest as he rubs his palm over her hair to try and soothe her. “Let’s just take a deep breath, okay? Then you can tell me what happened.”

There’s something coiling in his gut at her tears. Pain, anger, sadness. He truly could not tell, but he kept her close and rocked her back and forth to let her cry. When she finally calmed down enough to talk she started telling him.

“He was really mean daddy. And he kept t-telling me that y-you we’re gonna replace me-“ her body racks with sobs again. “He said you didn’t want me. A-and I was upset! But he w-was mean to you-“

“Easy.” He whispers, wiping her cheek once more. “You gotta breathe pretty girl.”

“He was m-mean. Said mean things about you daddy and mean things ab- I’m sorry! I-“ her sobbing gets worse and Eddie shushes her, choosing to rock her back and forth and keep her in his tight embrace. “And you w-were ma-you were madatme.”

“No no. I was never mad.” He sighs. “Daddy was never mad at you.”

“You were.”

“No, I was just scared. I…. Daddy didn’t want you hating him.” Eddie explains. “I just wanted to give you space. Having 2 dads is confusing. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“He hit you.”

“Did he ever hit you motley?” Eddie asks sternly, squeezing her a bit in comfort.

“He spanked me.” That feeling in his stomach settled on rage.

“That’s not fair. And you shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Please don’t leave again.” As much as he wanted to promise her that he wouldn't, that wasn’t a promise he could make. You probably hated him, and he would have to talk this out with you first.

“Let’s get you to bed yeah? Daddy will tuck you in.”

“I want mama.”

“Well she’s at work.” He mumbles against her hair.

“Can we go get milkshakes?”

“I don’t know…..” it was almost 10. Then again it was New Year’s Eve and he didn’t want you taking the bus home so this would give him an excuse to go pick you up. “Only if they have chocolate.”

“You already know they have chocolate!” She giggles, and he can’t stop the way his heart seems to light up.

It was a busy night, and the smell of the jalapeno nachos all your tables were ordering was making you nauseated and angry. You wanted to throw up, maybe cry, maybe throw up then cry.

Apparently a town next to Hawkins lost power so a bunch of people were driving to this place to have a good new years which meant you were going to be stuck here forever. You found yourself stressing about the bus’ schedule as you dashed to run food.

This is what you had been doing when you spotted him. Running a tray of jalapeño nachos to your table, keeping it a safe distance from your nose as you thought about the fact that you might have to walk, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, leather jacket and wide eyes, as you caught him looking for you. And he was holding Ziggy.

What the fuck Maxine?!

“Y/n get a move on!” Your manager calls and you snap out of it, moving to deliver the tray as the host seats Eddie.

You hear Motley call out “mommy!” And instantly knew that they would now be sat in your section. Did it make you a bad mother if you admitted you would rather die than face him tonight?

“Mama!” Your daughter calls, making you look over as she slides in, Eddie sitting right next to her and then you are forced to confront this. You should have learned about birth control. Better yet maybe you should have practiced the art of condoms more.

Thinking of all the ways you could have prevented this situation as you gaze at your daughters adorable smiling face. God she was beautiful….. still should have used a condom.

“What a surprise. I could have sworn I left you guys with Max.” You try to smile, avoiding looking at Eddie as Ziggy reaches for you. You grab her gently, bouncing her on your hip and she starts playing with your hair clip.

“I got daddy!” Motley admits proudly, pointing to Eddie which makes you look at him. Your heart thumping against your chest, adrenaline rushing through you as he stares at you with those god damn brown eyes.

“Munson.” You greet, turning back to Motley. “Girls, stay in the booth for a moment. Okay? I’m gonna talk to him outside.”

You walk off after that, leaving Eddie no choice but to follow as he jumps up and runs to catch up. The winter hair hits you, and you immediately wrap your arms around yourself to keep some of the warmth, the crappy waitress outfit doing nothing for you.

The second you hear your name fall from his lips you whirl, slapping him in the chest to push him back. “What the fuck is the matter with you munson?!”

“I…. Give me a moment to explain, please.”

“Explain?! EXPLAIN?!” A bitter laugh splits from your lips. “Look. I get it. My life was a bit too messy and fucked up, I’d run too. But you bringing the girls here is just making it worse. You’re going to get their hopes and it’s gonna crush them.”

“Too messy? Who said anything about it being too messy?”

“WHY ELSE WOULD YOU RUN?!” Your voice raises louder than you thought it would, but you don’t back down. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to my daughters without me. Now I gotta tell them-“

The words ‘my daughters’ sound wrong, and you can’t fight the disgust that coats you as you trail off, eyes widening as he stares back at you with a set jaw. “I just mean….. I get why you left okay? My life is chaos and you were really nice for staying and pretending like it was fine. But those girls…. They can’t know you left cause of that. I was hoping, as shitty as it sounds, that after a couple years they’d forget. Y’know?”

You are swiping at your cheeks as tears stream down your face, trying not to look at him. You catch him moving up, his hands outstretched, but you move backwards so he can’t grab you. “Eds. Y-you should just go. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No it won’t-“

“It will. I’ll be fine. I won’t be mad-“ then his arms are around you, pulling you in quickly as he shoves your head into his chest and you get to inhale his scent once more. Doing your best not to outright sob.

“I was the mess.” He blurts. “I was scared, okay? I was scared that Billy was gonna turn everyone against me, and I was scared that I ruined Motleys Christmas.”

You scoff, trying to pull away, not really believing the excuse. Before you can fully move he wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand moving to your jaw to drag your eyes up to his own. “I was scared. I was a coward.”

“But-“

“No buts. I didn’t leave cause I thought you were a mess, baby I think you’re perfect and your daughters are so fucking precious to me. I…. You really thought I was running cause I couldn’t handle it?”

“I just-“

“Y/n!” Your boss calls from the door, looking exasperated. “You gettin sick again? Need to go? Or you wanna get paid so you can afford maternity leave?”

You tense again under Eddie’s touch, stomach curling as you try and take a step back while Eddie’s brows knit in confusion before he turns to glare at your boss. “She’s sick.”

“Fine. Take her home. Just have to transfer tables.” The man snaps, turning to walk back in before Eddie is whirling on you.

“Am I crazy or did he just say maternity leave?”

“Eddie….” You sigh, feeling saliva build up as you panic. He watches you, taking a step back just as you lean forward to puke.

The car ride is silent. Not the serene kind of quiet and more so the anxiety inducing type.

You had no clue what to say to him at this point. Suddenly everything just seemed to….. silly. You’re reaction and his reaction. You should have just called. Why hadn’t you called?

No, he should have called.

You were being a decent person and giving him space and “mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?”

“Ya!” Ziggy yells, making Eddie chuckle under his breath as he leans to turn the heater in the car up. It had been forever since you had ridden in this van, since he deemed it unacceptable to drive the girls around in since it lacked seatbelts or a backseat. Even now everytime he braked he means a hand out to block the girls even with Ziggy in your lap.

“I don’t know…”

“Please! Please please.”

“We will talk about it when we get home.”

Only there was no talking about it, the second you got home with the girls Motley ran to throw away her to go milkshake cup then dashed to your bed quickly which turned into a screaming fit when you tried to tell her no.

The word condom just kept circling your mind as you finally just told her to lay down, she did so and Ziggy soon made her appearance to crawl onto the bed.

Eddie takes off his shoes. Moving to lay with the girls as you turn off one of the lights so the room was dark enough for them to fall asleep, and then you shuffle to the bathroom to shower before bed so you didn’t smell like grease and beer.

It wasn’t even 10 minutes before you heard the door open and shut softly, you turn already knowing he is heading for the shower and watch as the curtain opens lightly.

Normally he would jump right in like he belonged there which would make you laugh, tonight he had a questioning gaze, trying not to over step. You give him a small nod and then the curtain is pushed aside and he dives in, still in his shirt and jeans.

“Edward-“ you warn before his lips are on yours in a searing kiss. He keeps one hand on your jaw to keep your lips connected as his other wraps around your back to keep you close as the water runs over both of you getting his clothes soaked. By the time you pull back he’s already working his way down your neck with kisses as you earn him again “clothes.”

The hand holding your jaw moves to cover your mouth quickly as he peers at you, giving you a fake angry expression that has you laughing. “Do not wake our kids.” He whispers before stepping back to undress.

The jeans take a moment to shuck off since they were wet but the second he is free Eddie dives for you again, showing up just how much he missed you.

You sit with him on the floor of the kitchen by the fridge, using the light above the oven as your only source of light while you both snack, keeping cuddled together in nothing but your robes.

Nothing has been said yet, and you were just fine with that, exhausted and happy that he was there. But he has to ruin it, of course he does.

“I’m still sorry.” He murmurs, scraping the cream of one side of an Oreo using the empty side.

“I am too. I think we’re both incredibly stupid right now.”

“You’re telling me.” He blushes. “I just…. There was a time in my life when I hated Uncle Wayne. I had this image in my mind that he was trying to tear me away from my dad. Fuck I just wanted to be with my dad, I looked up to him whether he beat me or not and- the way I treated Wayne and the way I hated him….. my dad didn’t help, everytime I went back with him my mom and I just ended right back up at Wayne’s with more bruises than last time. And when she passed I was the only one there to inflict it. Wayne for him arrested and I swore my world was ending, swore I would never talk to Wayne again.”

“You thought that was what was going on with Motley? That she felt like you were tearing her and her dad apart?”

“Yes and no. I just was trying to prevent that from happening, I didn’t want her to have to experience that choice.” He whispers, picking at the robe. “I just wanted to protect her.”

“She wanted to protect you too.” You whisper back. “That’s love.”

“Billy told her that…. That I was gonna try and replace her.” He gulps, and you stop smiling instantly. “And now that you’re pregnant, and as happy as I am because I am so happy, I need to make sure she knows that I’m not trying to replace her.”

“We’ll make it work.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder. “We always do”

He hums out, laying his head on top of yours and sitting in the silence for a moment before you break it once more. “Where are your rings?”

“Haven’t worn them since I got arrested.” He answers, holding up his bare hands. “My fingers were too bruised and swollen at first, then I just couldn’t care to put them on.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to bed..”

“Give me five more minutes.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss your own, keeping his nose pressed into your hair.

“Why?”

“I just…. I just want to be near you for a little longer.”

The sun peaks through the curtains, hitting Eddie right in the face which in return makes him groan out, moving the pillow around to try and block it. I’m his attempt to move Ziggy wiggles around, giving a displeased noise that her dad woke her up from sleeping before moving to lay right on his chest.

Motley does not move an inch, mouth wide open and eyes sealed shut, Eddie has to reach a hand out to poke her and make sure she’s not dead.

She wrinkles her nose, moving closer and shoving her face in your pillow, staying peacefully asleep.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, and he can only blink at you trying to straighten his eyesight as he watches you zip up your work boots. (For some reason I imagine go go boots with the 70s look. I don’t know guys. I….. I have no clue).

“You going to work?” He blurts, making you jump.

“Sorry, yeah. Max will be here soon to watch the girls. We agreed on it last night before I left.” You mumble, moving to grab your apron.

“I can watch em….” He whispers, staring at you. The way the sun from the window hits you makes you look angelic.

“Okay.” You smile, moving to kiss Motley and Ziggys heads before you move to walk away. Fully offended Eddie snatches your hand and draws you back, annoyed at the shit eating grin on your face.

“Baby,” he whines making you let out a small laugh and lean down to kiss his lips before rushing to leave.

He lays with the girls for a little longer making sure the blanket is covering all three of them before the day truly has to start and he forces himself to get up. Setting Ziggy down without waking her up was a difficult task but he managed, shuffling to the bathroom to change into todays clothes, thankful that he no longer has to wear all the shit clothes he left at Wayne’s when he originally moved out.

Upon exiting the bathroom he nearly trips over Motley, who had been sitting in front of the door. “What are you doing Metalhead?”

“You took forever…” she whines, wrapping herself around his calf which makes him smile. “I wanna stay with you.”

“Okay,” he answers, moving down to peel her off his leg and letting her climb up for a piggy back. “You’re gonna help me make breakfast then.”

“Waffles?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” He smirks, walking down the hall as the front door opens to reveal Max.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” She rushes out, face red from running. “I woke up a little late and-“

“It’s no problem. I’m here if you had other things to do.” Eddie offers. “Or you can stay and have some breakfast?”

“Sounds great. I’m kinda ignoring the rest of the group right now.” She explains, setting her bag down and following them into the kitchen. Eddie gets Max set up at the table, trying to set Motley with her but the girl wiggles and whines so he allows her to stay.

He listens to Max rant about the group as he moves around to make waffles, enjoying the easy feeling he gets being here. God why did he ever leave home?

“-And Lucas is just always set out to fight Erica. You’d think he had a crush on Dustin and wanted to date him. You know? I get it, your baby sister starts dating your closest friend. A little weird. But get over it!”

“I think Uncle Dustin and Auntie Erica are so cute!” Motley adds which makes Eddie chuckle a bit.

“Lucas is upset because he always thought they were in agreement that Erica was annoying.” He explains, bending down to set Motley down and bring the food to the table. “But it’s been months. Time to move on.”

“Exactly!” Max sighs right as Ziggy comes pounding in with an angry look.

“Alone….” She whines and Eddie smiles at her. “Aweee did you wake up alone? My poor little baby.” He coos, picking her up and bringing her close to kiss before setting her on his lap to help her eat. He already knew she would not be into the high chair based on the way even Motley was clinging to him.

Even now, as she used a spoon to shove waffles in her mouth, she kept a hand on his own arm to keep him close.

“I’m gonna work on mamas car today.” He explains. “I’ll be right outside. So maybe you girls can stay in here and keep Max company.”

“I wanna stay with you.” Motley whines, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“No it’s too cold. You stay in here. Okay?” And then Eddie gave her his puppy dog eyes. Oh yeah, can’t beat dads game.

She groans and looks at Max who smiles in return. “I’ve been practicing my barbie voices just for you.”

“Fine! But barbie is married to G.I. Joe! Ken is the villain. We’re not arguing about it again.”

“But isn’t it Barbie and Ken? Wouldn’t Joe be the villain?”

“Maxine.” Motley warns, slamming her tiny hand on the table.

“Fine. Got it.”

It didn’t last long.

Eddie had put on his mechanic suit, trying to keep warm as he took a look at what was going on with your car. 15 minutes in Motley came out wearing her snowsuit and smiling. “Look daddy! I can help!”

“I thought I said to stay inside-“ a laugh breaks out when she takes off the hood of the snow suit to reveal that she tied a bandana over her head like a hat. “That’s not how you tie it. Come here.”

He helps her tie it like his, telling her to sit a little closer to the grass as he keeps working, making sure the radio is on a station she would like as he does so.

By the time you get home she is making snow angels in the snow of the lawn as he curses under his breath.

“What’s going on?” You ask, making him jump and hit his head on the hood of your car. “Oh! I’m so sorr-“

“It’s good. I’m good.” He laughs, letting you fuss over him anyways. He takes his chance to kiss at you before you are pulling back.

“You are covered in car nastiness-“

“You mean grease and oil?” He laughs, keeping you trapped in his arms to rub his cheek on your shoulder. You yell out playfully, still trying to escape as he does so.

“Does this mean you guys are good?” Steve appears, dustin behind him. “Are you done being mad at me Y/n?”

“I was never mad at you!” Eddie keeps his arms around you as you turn to look at Steve, making sure Motley is good.

“Yes you were. I waved at you the other night and you completely ignored me.”

“I didn’t see you wave.” You reply and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“I called your name!”

“It was a busy restaurant, how am I supposed to hear everything.” You scoff, pulling from Eddie’s arms and flipping your hair. “Come on Motley. Let’s go inside.”

“Just admit you saw me wave!” Steve groans, following you to the door before Motley turns to shove him and close the door in his face. “Rude!”

“Steve, did you just get beat up by a kid?” Dustin laughs.

“It’s Eddie’s kid. Does that count?”

“My kids are great!”

Things took a moment to get back to normal, but that was to be expected.

Eddie found the folder of all your research on places to go, running his fingers over the math you sprawled across the pages to figure out how you would afford it, he promptly threw it in the trash bins outside.

Motley stayed glued to Eddie as much as she could, and in the mornings when he had to get up for work she made sure to wake him up and give him a kiss by the door making sure that he swore to come back before she would dash down the hall and lay with you.

Makeup Christmas happened, except it was only Wayne that was invited and instead of a whole feast you guys ordered a crap ton of Chinese food.

Wayne came over early, sneaking around the back and coming in through the back door which confused the girls to no end but they were excited to see their grandpa.

Ziggy also proved that she learned 2 more words by saying “shit grandpa!” All excited and reaching her hands up for him to grab her.

He howls with laughter, scooping her up and throwing her in the air as she screams in excitement.

Everyone sits around the tree opening gifts, Wayne on the couch with Ziggy on his lap helping her open the gifts. Eddie sat by the tree, passing them out with Motley right by him and you next to her.

He pulls out an envelope that has his name sprawled on it and looks at you.

“I had a plan for Christmas. But I kind of had to redo it. I planned on giving you the stick, but figured since you already know I’d get the ultrasound.” Yoh blush, watching his excitedly tear it open.

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone watches him admire the photo, smiling from ear to ear.

“Anything you notice?” You ask, waiting.

“What do you mean?” He asks, before Wayne snaps his fingers and grabs the photo gently.

“There’s two.” Wayne grunts before his eyes light up. “You’re having twins!”

“Obviously….” Eddie mumbles, “we already knew that?”

“What?”

“The stick? It had two blue lines? So that means we’re having twin boys? Right?” Eddie mumbles, staring at you like your crazy.

It’s quiet for a moment as you and Wayne process what he said before you burst into laughter, the girls following even though they had no clue what was going on.

“Not even close boy!” Wayne cackles as you have to wipe some of the tears from your eyes.

“Does that mean you’re pregnant mommy?” Motley asks, turning to look at you with wide eyes. Your heart stops, going back to what Eddie had told you.

“Yes. Mommy is pregnant .” You wait to see her reaction and Eddie finds himself reaching for the gift he had added two days ago. “Motty. I have something for you.”

He snatches the tiny box, holding it out to her. “It’s a really important gift though. Okay?”

She nods slowly, taking the box from him and opening it just as slow. Inside held a simple chain necklace, but when she pulled it out it revealed that he had hung his mothers ring on it, the one he normally wore on his right hand by itself. “I was told to give this ring to someone very special. It’s from my own mom.”

She gasps, turning to him. “You’re giving it to me?!”

“Well yeah! You’re my oldest kid. My firstborn.” He laughs, moving to help her put it on. Then he snatches another box and hands it to her. “This one is for both you and your sister.”

She reaches for it and opens it gently, pulling out a heavy chain that has a dog tag connected to it. “Another necklace?”

“Well…..” Wayne laughs, flipping it to reveal what the dog tag says.

“Who is Zeppeplin?”

“Zeppelin, baby.” You correct, already standing up.

“Who is Zeppelin?” She giggles, which makes Eddie laugh, picking her up by her armpits to make her stand as you go and open the back door.

The dog, a young little puppy at most, snaps his head to the noise and wags it’s tail excitedly upon seeing you.

“Come in!” You smile and he bolts from his spot tearing up sticks to get inside. Once he hits the threshold of the house he is everywhere. Sniffing the fridge to the chairs, jumping on his hind legs to clean up the high chair where Ziggy left her banana. After inhaling that he bolts to explore more, completely missing the living room as he bolts down the hall to sniff all the rooms.

Once Motley sees the flash of fur she screams in excitement, which draws the puppy back and they both just feed off each others excitement.

She’s jumping up and down, screaming in excitement and the dog starts howling to match her while his butt starts wiggling at how hard he is wagging his tail.

“I am so excited for Chinese later.” Wayne murmurs, coming to hug you as Eddie tries to calm both the noisemakers down. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, you’re grandpa.” You smile, watching Ziggy from his arms just stare intently at the scene before her. “She can’t tell whether to be excited or scared.”

Wayne laughs, pointing to the dog and trying to help Ziggy see him.

Later that evening everyone sits around the table, Max with you all, as you pile Chinese food onto the plates. Motley keeps showing Max the necklace she got while Wayne keeps bragging to Eddie about his new Jean jacket.

Zeppelin chooses to sit by Ziggy, and it’s very clear that the dog has already figured out who will drop the most food. Ziggy giggles every time she drops a piece of broccoli and he catches it.

“Now we’re gonna have to watch her every time we give her veggies.” Eddie groans. “She’s got an accomplice!”

“Zeppy and Ziggy!” Motley cheers like their superheroes.

February rolls around soon enough, and your daughters biggest catastrophe had nothing to do with the restraining order on Billy, or her dads new bike (which she was terrified of). No. Motleys world was ending over valentines cards.

Eddie had helped her pick them out, little heart shaped cards that you could stick lollipops in, and had sat with her to write in them as you took Ziggy in for a haircut.

The only one that Motley had not written a card for was Troy, and now the morning of Valentine’s Day she was still panicking.

“I can’t write love cause then he will want to get married!” She explains and Eddie nods like it’s super serious. “And I can’t write like, because then he will know I have a crush on him!”

“Glad you can admit it.” He nods and she rolls her eyes. “Here’s an idea! Okay, you ready metal head?”

“Ready daddy!”

“You can write ‘from Motley’.” He laughs, watching her face go serious.

“That’s what I wrote on the others!”

“Exactly.” He watches as she thinks about it before nodding quickly and writing it down, tossing it in her valentines box and dashing to grab her backpack.

“She finally figure out Troys?” You ask, shuffling Ziggy in. “It’s been days.”

“She did. We decided on writing ‘from motley’.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you before leaning down to kiss your stomach then Ziggy.

“Stevie….” Ziggy giggles, running to the phone. It didn’t take long to figure out that she would be the one to run the phone bill up, even now she spent every morning learning to dial her uncle Steve’s number. She dialed Dustin once but deemed him “poopoo head.”

“Nuh uh. Come eat pretty girl.” Eddie calls, pointing to her chair. “Zeppelin is waiting.”

The dog, who just a month ago had been tiny enough to lay under her chair, now sat at full height beside it. Still a puppy, just bigger.

Ziggy runs, her little pigtails bouncing as Eddie picks her up by the overalls to sit her in the chair. Now trained Ziggy eats his dog food beside her rather than everything she drops, and if somehow someway some of her waffle drops in his bowl then it can’t really be considered his fault.

“Motley, hurry up baby.” You call. “We gotta go.”

“You good to pick Wayne up?” Eddie asks, moving to grab his lunch.

“Yes. I’ll drop Motley off at school and go and grab him.” Wayne had injured his hip, so today you’ll be taking him to the doctors to see what the plan was while Eddie went to work.

“Okay. And Ziggy is still good to-?”

“Ziggy and Zeppelin are going to Nancy’s, yes.” You smile. Nancy had just given birth to her third boy, and she liked having Ziggy over because she liked having another girl in the house.

“Okay. Tell me how it goes?” He asks, leaning to give you one more goodbye kiss as you nod before moving to say bye to Motley. “BYE BEAUTIFUL LADIES!”

The day had started off so well, you should have known it would only go downhill from there.

Wayne sat in the passenger seat of your car, irritated and ranting about shitty doctors. “I’m not doing it. You hear me? Just give me some Tylenol and I’ll be fine.”

“MOMMY!” Ziggy screams, from her spot on her car seat.

The doctor had told Wayne he needed hip surgery and could not work, which meant that Wayne was pissed and you were panicking about what to do. He couldn’t work which meant he wouldn’t be able to make rent and he would need some help to move around. Then when you got to Steve and Nancy’s she had told you that Ziggy had taken quite a stumble off the table and scratched her chin on the corner of the table.

It was a mess.

Both of them were not having a good day and Zeppelin was howling at their ranting and screaming and as much as you loved them you truly debated crashing the car.

Then you got home to yelling.

Eddie stood in the living room, still in his work attire with his hands on his hips and his eyes wide. “You’re in rare fucking form today, you know that?!”

The response to his question is met with a demonic scream from down the hall and you can only assume that Motley was having a bad time as well.

“I’m not getting a surgery, you hear me Edward?” Wayne snaps, limping to the couch.

“What the fuck are you on now?” He snaps back, looking at him annoyed as Ziggy rushes past crying. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s apparently a meltdown day.” You sigh, moving to kiss his cheek and go into the kitchen to make a snack for yourself.

Todays pregnancy craving was potato chips with lime juice and pickles, Eddie watches from the entrance of the kitchen with a smile as you settle at the table and enjoy your snack.

He moves and takes the seat next to you, following your lead on snacks.

“Why is Metalhead in ‘rare fucking form’ today?” You giggle, watching his face pinch in annoyance.

“I pick her up and she gets in the car, right? And then she just starts screaming at me! And I mean screaming. The entire ride home! And from what I gather Vinny didn’t give her a valentines card.” He explains. “God. She was yelling like she was possessed. Then I tried explaining that maybe it was lost and that made it worse.”

“Did she get one from Troy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares either.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“Okay, we let her ride out the fit in her room. We’ll call Steve later to see what happened.”

“Sounds great to me.” He smiles. “She scared me a little. Threatened to cut her hair and everything. Then threatened to cut MY hair.”

A small laugh tears from you as he steals the potato chip in your hand before looking to Wayne’s direction. “They recommend surgery?”

“It wasn’t a recommendation.” You sigh, grabbing his hand and tracing the tattoo. “I think we need to move the house around.”

“What?”

“If Wayne gets surgery he needs to be here. I’ll cut back shifts at the diner and help him out.” You start. “He won’t be able to use the stairs so maybe we can move our room downstairs which would give more room for the twins cribs in our room, but Ziggy has problems with the stairs and she likes coming in to sleep with us cause of the nightmares but-“

“Easy. Easy.” Eddie mumbles, turning his hand up quickly to snatch your hand and pull it to his lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

And so you did.

Eddie moved the house around, and turned the basement into a bedroom for you guys. Now with more room and your own bathroom down here he could set up the cribs.

Wayne took your old room, and though the man threw a fit the girls got excited that Grandpa Wayne would be living here now.

He got the surgery in the beginning of March, and Motley and Vinny were still fighting.

You spent your days helping Wayne, taking him to pt and helping him move around the house.

Motley and Vinny got put into separate classes which lead to a whole argument between Steve and Eddie about whose kid was the one to blame.

Life was a bit of a mess.

It all came to head at the children's father dance.

Eddie had dressed in a tux, making sure he looked good as you got Motley ready for the night. With Wayne napping on the couch with Ziggy asleep on his chest drooling (a daily nap these two took) Zeppelin follows at your feet, keeping close to you as you did Motley's hair.

“How do I look?” Eddie asks from the door of the bathroom. “I have a date tonight and I’m really nervous.”

“Daddy!” Motley giggles, rushing to him in her puffy little skirt, hugging him tightly.

“Alright you two. Let me get a picture.” You smile, rushing past to find where the camera had gone. By the time you got a picture of them Motley was rushing Eddie out, ready for the dance.

He struggles to find parking, and ends up finding one right next to Steve’s car, rolling his eyes when he sees Harrington fixing his jacket while Vinny reads in the car.

“Harrington.” He greets coldly, fixing his leather jacket and moving to open the door for his daughter.

“Munson.” Steve matches the tone, scoffing at Eddie’s jacket. “Little Munson.”

“Uncle Steve.” She huffs, fixing her hair.

“Really? A leather jacket Edward?”

“You look like you stepped off a Queen music video, Steven.” Eddie snaps, holding out his hand for Motley. Fighting or not they wait at the front of the car for Steve and Vinny. Walking into the dance together.

“I’m surprised that they even let you in here. Your child is a danger to society.” Steve snaps as they wait in line for tickets.

“Let’s talk about your kid giving everyone but my sweet Angel a valentines card. That’s barbaric.” Eddie defends, watching Motley wave to her friends.

“He didn’t want to. And I don’t need to tell him what to do.” Steve blushes, turning to look at something to avoid looking at Eddie.

“There it is again. You’re acting so fucking suspicious about that card, man.” Eddie points at him, silver rings glinting in the light. “Tell me what you know.”

“Tickets?” The poor woman asks, interrupting their stand off.

“Yes please. Four.”

“No two. I’ll get my tickets.”

“No I’ll get them”

“You’re not buying me ,Steven.”

“He’s buying me.” Motley smiles, snatching the money from Steve’s hands and setting them on the table before grabbing two tickets. “Let’s go get some pop, daddy.”

Eddie can do nothing but follow, letting the little lady lead the way.

After about an hour of Motley showing him everything and introducing him to all her friends she abandoned him to hang out with some of the girls in her class, making sure Eddie was okay where he sat at an empty table nursing a can of soda.

It felt like high school again, watching the way all the other dads surrounded Harrington as the pta moms that decorated huddled together and giggled in the corner. At least the kids were having fun.

Eddie wished you were here, you would be sitting with him.

“Jesus. Gary never shuts up.” Steve mumbles, snapping Eddie out of his train of thought. “I got you a slice of pizza.”

He sets the slice down, giving Eddie a weird smile as he scarfs down his own slice. But eddie wasn’t very hungry, instead he surveyed to check on motley and see her giggling with all her friends as they dance in a circle.

“Your kid has been sitting alone, you gonna help?” Eddie asks, looking to where Vinny sits reading a book.

“I tried earlier. He just said something about me embarrassing him more.” Steve sighs. “Then complained that I ruin everything.”

“What happened? I’ve never seen him alone at a party.”

“Have I not told you? Your daughter is the popular one. They made her move classes and he was left in their old class struggling to make friends.” Steve mumbles.

“Why don’t you get one of the many dads following you around to get their kids over there? It feels like I’m in highschool again, waiting for your cronies to shove me in the bathrooms and lock me in again.”

“How long were you in that bathroom, again? Two hours?”

“Three.” Eddie sighs. “I smoked and set off an alarm so the principal found me.”

“Sorry.”

“Wasnt one of your worst. I was fine.” Eddie shrugs. “Sorry about Vinny.”

“I have faith.” Steve sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I also cannot believe I’m at a daddy daughter dance.”

“It’s a father kid dance?”

“They didn’t want the boys feeling left out.” Steve explains.

“I see.” Eddie smiles, picking at the pizza.

“He wrote one. You know?”

“Sorry?”

“Vinny wrote one. He wrote a valentine for Motley and got her a big chocolate bar. But a girl made fun of him in the parking lot and he panicked.” Steve explains. “Ripped it up and left the chocolate on my car to melt on the seats.”

“I can clean that.”

“You can?!”

“Oh yeah. I got you Harrington.” Eddie laughs right as another dad comes to the table.

“Howdy gentleman.” He smiles, sitting down. Eddie has to blink to recognize, holy shit that’s Tommy. “Oooo. I’m sitting at the hellfire table. So scary…”

“Do you have a kid here…?” Steve asks, blinking slowly.

“Yeah.” He slurs, pointing to the young kid stuffing his face with marshmallows. “You guys want some whiskey?”

“Jesus. I smell it from here man.” Steve snaps, standing up.

“I’m driving. Hard pass.” Eddie laughs, standing with Steve.

“It’s so weird to me that you two are friends! That shit is like….. mind flowing!”

“Blowing.” Steve corrects and Eddie sighs. “Damn it Harrington. It was a trap.”

“Blowing is more for you guys, if you know what I mean.” Tommy laughs and Eddie shakes his head.

“How did you fall for that Harrington? You made that line.” Eddie grumbles, moving to find Motley. “Hey Metalhead?”

“Yeah daddy?” She asks, coming up with her cheeks bright red from all the dancing.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, offering her a bite of his pizza before looking back over to Vinny. “Think you can go help him out?”

“Yeah. I guess.” She sighs, kissing his cheek and rushing to find Vinny and bring him out to dance.

By the end of the night Eddie has danced to about every little pop song she wants, and by the time he is bringing her to the car it’s more of a carrying her situation as Steve tries to trip Vinny up.

“Have a good night Harringtons.” Eddie laughs.

“Sleep tight Munsons.”

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Eddie asks, peering up at you over his book as you shuffle and pace around the room.

“Shut up.” You grunt, waving your hand at him. Your face is pinched up and Eddie finds himself sitting up and staring at you.

“What’s going on here?”

“Edward shut UP!” You snap, pacing back to the wall and holding your hands against it to try and breathe in. “Sorry. Sorry that was mean.”

“Are you in pain?” He mumbles, standing up and putting on his slippers.

It was your ninth month, and Eddie was anxious because he had never experienced the pregnancy part of it all before so every kick and movement made him worried.

“Eddie. Edward. Eds.” You grunt out, and right there something trickles down your leg.

“Did you just pee?”

“EDWARD!”

(Would you guys want me to keep going? I have more ideas {Especially Motley in high school} Feel free to message me if you want me to keep going or if you have any blurbs or requests for them in mind)

TAGLIST:: (Let me know if you want removed)

@mariamayhemrsmunson @bethanyzed @alyisdead

@caseyqdilla @zooboomanfu @avenjames-anderson @hazydespair

@bl1ssfulbaby @username199945 @costellation-hunter @vanessav03 @thehuntresswolf @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @jackiosstuff @mysticpeachobject @animechick555 @natie335 @localemofreak @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @dontcrydaddy

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fan #strange imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

379 notes · View notes