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girlactionfigure · 2 months ago

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Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott was a Torah prodigy whose cleverness and chutzpah saved thousands of Jews from annihilation by the Nazis.

Born in a Polish shtetl in 1897, Reuven was one of fifteen children. His family were Hasidic followers of the Ger Rebbe.

Reuven’s exceptional intellect was apparent at a young age. He was a gifted scholar of Talmud and Jewish scripture, so precocious that he was given rabbinic ordination when only 17 years old.

The Rebbe took a special liking to Reuven, and every Friday night Reuven sat next to the great man at his festive Sabbath gathering. Small in size - he stood only 5’1” - Reuven was known for his big brain, and big heart.

Reuven was selected by his community to represent them as the Jewish voice on the local provincial council. When the Polish president died in the 1920’s, young Reuven stood at the graveside with other clergy and delivered a eulogy on behalf of the Jews of Poland.

Although life seemed fairly good for Polish Jews at the time, the Ger Rebbe sensed that big trouble was coming. He urged his followers to get out of Poland and move to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), at that time British Mandate Palestine.

As the Rebbe’s right-hand man, Rabbi Reuven Kott threw himself into the mission of helping Jews leave Poland and return to their ancestral homeland.

The British had a quota system restricting the number of Jewish families they let in. Reuven took advantage of a bureaucratic loophole defining “family” as two parents and an undetermined number of offspring.

Reuven collected money and bribed Polish authorities to get blank birth certificates. He would then “create” new families, matching people up, changing names and identities as needed. Every “family" had at least a dozen children.

Reuven told those he helped that they must stick with their fake identity. Most people complied, but a few didn’t and were caught. Under threat of being sent back to Poland, somebody gave Reuven’s name to the authorities.

Reuven and his brother were on a train in Warsaw when three plain-clothes officers approached. After verifying his identity, they arrested Reuven for bribery and forgery and threw him in jail. As a pious Jew, Reuven couldn’t eat the non-kosher jail food, so every day his daughter brought him a kosher meal - a two hour journey each way.

After several long months, his brother finally got word that there was going to be a hearing in the case. He went to visit Reuven in jail, told him the news and asked which lawyer he wanted to hire.

Reuven scribbled something on a scrap of paper, folded it up and slipped it through the bars of his cell. Outside the jail, Reuven’s brother unfolded the note. He was shocked to read the contents: “Hire me the most anti-Semitic lawyer in Warsaw!“

Reuven’s family was baffled. With so many top-notch Jewish lawyers, why would he want an anti-Semite? Had his incarceration led to a mental breakdown? Reuven’s brother assured them that he was of sound mind, and he went to Warsaw and found an attorney notorious for his fierce hatred of Jews.

The day of the hearing arrived, and the courthouse was packed with hundreds of Hasids from Reuven’s community. Reuven was allowed only three minutes with his lawyer, and then the hearing began.

To everybody’s shock, Reuven’s lawyer stood up, made a brilliant argument, and got the case dismissed.

Back home in the shtetl, everybody wanted to know what Reuven had said to his lawyer in those three minutes. Reuven said his Talmud study had taught him that in a business deal, if you get three “Yes” answers, the deal will close.

He asked his lawyer three questions:

- You hate us Jews, don’t you?

- Do you want to see me rot and die in jail?

- Would you like all of us Jews gone from Poland?

The lawyer answered yes to all three questions. Reuven immediately shot back, “What good would it do if one measly Jew rots in jail? If you set me free, I can get all the Jews out of Poland!”

Reuven got what he wanted by blinding the lawyer with his own hate. He continued his work “creating” large families and helping them move to Palestine. The anti-Semitic attorney even helped him procure more blank birth certificates. People often asked Reuven when he would go to Eretz Yisrael. He said, “I’m like the captain of a sinking ship. It is my responsibility to get all the passengers out before I get in the lifeboat.”

Over the course of 20 years, Reuven helped tens of thousands of Jews escape Poland. Today, almost half a million descendants of those Polish Jews owe their lives to Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott.

Unfortunately, Reuven himself never made it to Israel. He was murdered at Auschwitz in 1942.

For proving that one small man in three short minutes can accomplish miracles beyond measure, we honor Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

This story was told to us by Reuven’s granddaughter, Ziporah Bank. She heard it from her mom - the daughter who brought kosher meals to Rabbi Kott in prison.

Accidental Talmudist

#Yom HaShoah #Never Again

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thepinkpanther83 · 28 days ago

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Can you write this adorableness with Eddie as person B and reader as person A. Like reader can't sleep because her mid is racing of thoughts of Eddie and she says screw it at goes to him in the middle of the night? Please?

Sleepy Confessions

One-Shot Request: “Sleepy Confessions” Eddie Munson x Reader

💌 Author’s Note: This soft, sleepy slice of Munson-flavored comfort was requested by the lovely @meankenna, who always seems to know exactly what my heart needs to write. Thank you for trusting me with your vision- you are the reason this tender mess of midnight courage and tangled limbs exists. It was a joy bringing this tender, late-night Eddie moment to life. Hope it gives you all the heart flutters and cozy sighs. 💕

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Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Summary: You can’t sleep. Not with Eddie Munson taking up every square inch of your thoughts. One sleepless night at the trailer, you finally give in and cross a line you’ve been dancing along for far too long. What waits on the other side? Something softer… and far more dangerous, than you ever expected.

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Sleepy Confessions

One-Shot Request: “Sleepy Confessions”

It’s way too late to still be awake.

But sleep won’t come, not even close. You’re curled on the Munsons’ lumpy old couch, a blanket twisted around your legs and your arm tucked under your head, staring up at the water-stained ceiling like it’s got answers. Spoiler: it doesn’t. Neither does the ticking clock over the kitchen doorway or the occasional rumble of a semi barreling down the road outside.

Wayne’s on another night shift, and the whole trailer feels like it’s exhaling without him here. Too still. Too quiet. Except your brain.

It’s racing.

Eddie. That’s the problem. That’s always the problem.

You replay dinner in your head- how he offered you the last slice of pizza without blinking, how he flicked his straw wrapper at you, and then laughed so hard he nearly snorted soda. The way his eyes had lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe he wanted you to see. You don’t even know anymore.

And God, the way he said your name earlier… soft, like it meant something. Like you meant something.

You drag the blanket over your face and groan into it. None of this is helping.

You toss the blanket aside with a sigh that’s more frustration than fatigue. Every part of you is buzzing- limbs heavy with sleeplessness, but your brain? Fully caffeinated on a potent cocktail of What ifs and Just kiss him already.

You mutter it under your breath before you’ve fully decided:

“Screw it.”

The floor is cold under your bare feet. Your oversized hoodie barely covers your thighs as you pad down the narrow hallway. The trailer creaks under your weight, groaning softly like it’s in on your secret. You wince at every little sound, half expecting to wake a grumpy Wayne from the ether- but he’s gone. Night shift. It’s just you and Eddie. Like always.

Eddie’s door is cracked open, just a sliver, but it glows with soft amber from the string lights looped haphazardly around his wall. You catch a flicker of lava lamp motion- swirling, slow. There’s music playing faintly from the cassette deck, something dreamy and distant. Maybe Floyd. Maybe Sabbath on a softer night.

You hover there for a moment. Two. You think about turning back.

But then you remember the way he smiled at you tonight. Like he wanted to say something but bit it back.

So you knock.

Well. More like you nudge the door with your knuckles. It creaks open a little wider, betraying you.

He doesn’t stir.

You step inside.

His room smells like cedar, cheap cologne, and the faint remnants of weed. It’s stupidly comforting. His curls are a mess on the pillow, one bare arm tossed over his head like he’s auditioning for a Renaissance painting. He’s breathing slowly. Peaceful.

You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You inch closer, every step a minor rebellion.

“Eddie,” you whisper.

No response.

You swallow, nerves finally catching up to your heart. God, what are you doing?

You linger beside his bed like you don’t belong there- but also like you’ve never belonged anywhere else. His room is a cluttered mess of band posters, worn tapes stacked in milk crates, and that familiar scent- Eddie. Something about him always smells like smoke and the woods in fall. Like trouble and comfort in equal parts.

He shifts under the blanket, mumbling into his pillow. You reach out, fingers trembling, and brush the slope of his shoulder. “W-wake up,” you whisper, like you’re afraid the moment will break if you speak too loudly.

He groans softly, long and dramatic, like a grumpy teenager, a gravelly rasp that rumbles low in his throat. His brow scrunches before he pries open one eye.

“Mmmm… what do you want…”

Your heart seizes. But you’re already here. Standing in the warm glow of his room, barefoot and shaking.

You bite your lip.

You could still back out. You could say you just wanted a glass of water. Or ask him what that weird noise outside was.

But none of those lies would fix the way your chest feels like it’s going to cave in.

“I… umm…”

He rolls, sluggish and bleary-eyed, one arm flopping across his chest. His curls are a halo of chaos, face still slack with sleep, but one eye peeks open- barely. “You could’ve chosen someone else to wake up and bother, ya know?” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek into the pillow. “Just tell me what-”

“I love you.”

The words hit the air like a dropped glass. Sharp. Sudden. Irretrievable.

Silence.

And then… He freezes. Not in that awkward, I’m-about-to-reject-you way. No, he freezes like a man hit by lightning.

There’s a moment of silence.

The kind that stretches thin and golden, heartbeats suspended in time.

Eddie blinks once. Twice.

Then he shoves himself up on one elbow, sheets falling off his bare chest, curls in his eyes. He looks at you, like really looks at you. Like the world just flipped upside down, and he’s trying to figure out which star you fell from.

“…I love you too,” he says. Voice low, hoarse with sleep but sure, like he’s never meant anything more.

Then, with a lazy smirk curling his lips: “Now get in my bed right fucking now.”

You blink back at him, stunned.

“Wait- what?”

He throws the blanket open with one hand and reaches out with the other, fingers brushing yours. “C’mon, sweetheart. You wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that, and you think I’m letting you walk outta here without at least one solid cuddle? Get in here.”

Your feet move before your brain can catch up. Your oversized hoodie rustles as you slip into the warm cocoon of his sheets. He pulls you in without hesitation- no dramatic speech, no overthinking- just wraps you up like you’ve always belonged there.

His arms settle around you, one draped heavy over your waist, the other sliding up your back like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like he’s been dreaming about this exact moment for weeks.

Your forehead finds his. His nose bumps yours. Neither of you says anything for a while.

It’s just quiet breathing and the hum of his lava lamp, casting gentle waves of red and orange across the room. Your fingers tangle with his beneath the covers- warm and twitchy, and when your pinkies loop, he gives the tiniest squeeze.

“About damn time,” he murmurs. Voice like gravel and honey. “Thought I was gonna have to write a ballad about you or something just to get it outta my system.”

You smile into the dark, your hand brushing the soft spot at the base of his neck. “You still gonna bother me in my dreams now that I’m in your arms?”

He chuckles- a sleepy, rough sound that vibrates through his chest. “Sweetheart, if you’re in my arms, I hope I bother you in your dreams.”

A moment passes. “Hell, I hope I wreck ‘em good.”

You laugh, and he pulls you closer, tucking your head under his chin like he’s shielding treasure.

Then, quieter- like it’s just for you and the night to hear:

“You better be here when I wake up. Or I swear on my entire Dio collection, I will come drag you back.”

You grin. “Promise.”

His thumb strokes along your spine once… twice…

Then it stills.

Eddie Munson falls asleep with a smile on his lips and the one he loves in his bed.

And for the first time all night, your mind finally shuts up.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @meankenna

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story-box · 2 months ago

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STATIC ON THE LINE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | Eddie Munson x Y/N

Summary: Eddie ghosted you to “set you free”—so you came home to ruin his pity party and remind him you're nobody's damsel.

—

You should have set his trailer on fire.

Okay, maybe not literally — arson was still technically illegal — but metaphorically?

Oh, absolutely.

Because if Eddie Munson thought he could ghost you like some coward in a metal band who suddenly decided he was too emotionally fragile to answer a letter, then he clearly forgot who he was dating.

You had written twenty-one letters. Twenty-one. Plus, three postcards you thought were charming and a freaking cassette mix you made with actual effort and very questionable transitions. ("Careless Whisper" into Black Sabbath — sue you, you were emotional.)

And what did you get in return?

Silence.

Avoidance.

The occasional 'your letter was received' from Wayne when you called the Munson trailer, followed by an uncomfortable pause like the old man wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

You had tried to be patient. Really. You reminded yourself that Eddie wasn’t exactly known for healthy coping mechanisms.

But there’s only so much you can take before you start imagining exactly how hard youmee going to throw that shoebox full of unsent letters at his stupid, beautiful, stubborn head.

Because here’s the thing: You didn’t fall in love with him because he had perfect grades or a five-year plan. You fell in love with the idiot who played Dio songs like they were sacred texts, who gave voices to dungeon monsters and talked about fate like it was something he could fight.

And now? Now he was playing tragic martyr like it was some noble sacrifice.

You stared at your phone, hanging up on the wall. Again. Like it might magically spring to life with his voice on the other end.

It didn’t.

Instead, you whispered to no one, "If you think you're protecting me, Eddie Munson, you're dumber than that time you tried to climb my dorm window and got stuck halfway like a stray cat."

Maybe it was time to come home for a weekend.

And maybe it was time to make some noise…

. . .

The trailer looks smaller than you remember. Maybe it’s the winter light — flat and grey, like everything’s been dulled down without you here. Or maybe it’s just Eddie.

Because he’s standing in the doorway, sleep-creased and shoeless, hair a mess, looking like regret and cheap weed had a baby and named it "avoidant behavior."

You cross your arms and lean against your car, giving him the kind of look that says: Go ahead. Explain yourself. I’ll wait. Probably won’t believe you, but I’ll wait.

He blinks like he thinks you’re a hallucination. Which, fair. You did show up unannounced, in your Friday jeans and a pissed-off aura that could probably kill a small god.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“That’s all you’ve got?” you ask. “‘Holy shit’? After ignoring me for three months?”

He rubs the back of his neck. Classic. You’d almost missed that stupid nervous tic.

Almost.

“I thought you were… I don’t know. Gone.”

You laugh — sharp, not sweet. “Yeah. That tends to happen when someone stops answering your letters, calls, telepathic pleas—should I go on?”

His mouth opens like he wants to defend himself. Then closes again, like he realizes there is no defense. And honestly? Good. Let him stew. Let him feel the way your chest has felt every time you checked the mailbox and found nothing but silence.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he finally mutters.

You throw your hands up. “Try anything. ‘Hey, I suck at feelings, give me a minute’? ‘Sorry I’m an emotionally constipated disaster’? Even a postcard that just says ‘still alive’ would’ve been better than radio silence.”

He flinches. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

But then he says, voice low and stupidly sincere, “I thought if I let you go, you’d move on. Meet someone better. Someone who doesn’t live in a trailer and get held back and—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan. “You don’t get to martyr yourself and act like you’re doing me a favor. I’m not some romcom character who blossoms without the sad boy weighing her down. I chose you, you idiot.”

He stares at you, like maybe he didn’t quite believe it until you said it out loud. Like he’s terrified hope might be real.

You step closer. Close enough that he can see the tear line in your eyeliner and the months of unsent anger burning just behind your eyes.

“If you ever ghost me again,” you whisper, “I will break into your room, steal your favorite guitar, and replace all your good vinyls with Barry Manilow."

He chokes on a laugh.

You almost kiss him right then. Almost. But he has to earn that.

So instead, you say, “Now let me in before I freeze out here. We’re not done talking.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #ghosting #yearning #angry love #men are dumb

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dzvelinaskebiyars · 1 month ago

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Inspired by this song˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙ tw: angst<3 tagging: @shintaru dividers aren't mine! I don't remember whose these dividers are(´Ａ｀。

Hajun:

You sat quietly on his apartment floor, the surface cold and hard against your skin. The absence of his little brothers and the joy that they always brought in the house was heavy, only defeating silence filled the dark room like a smoke curling in the air, heavy and choking. Lights were off, the only thing that saved the room from completely succumbing to darkness were windows and bright sun outside. And here you were, sitting on the floor in front of your boyfriend, bandaging his bruised fingers.

His eyes glued on your hands, observing how gently you treated his bruises. And yet, he looked like he was far deep in his thoughts, in his own world, completely detached from reality right now. He knew it was just another day for you, another day of taking care of him after his fights even when he told you that he could do it himself, and he hates it. He hates how it's becoming norm for you, how it's becoming daily task for you. You used to scold him for getting into so many fights, and he really tried to listen, but now you've come to accept it - that you couldn't keep him away from the danger that he, himself, was jumping into. So, you shut up about it too.

There was time when Hajun used to admire MMA fighters as a kid and had passion in boxing but now all those innocent times have passed. He doesn't even know why his heart keeps his old fixations when he already lost the spark for it. The moment it became his only weapon to survive, the moment it became something that got him involved in underground gambling and the moment he had to surrender himself to rich people and get locked up in cage - one he couldn't return from - his heart grew numb to something he had passion for.

That's when his world became grey, that's when he grew numb to most things in his life, that's when his lifestyle got dirty and his life messed up. But then there were you. You, who brought some colours back in his life. You, who made him feel something. You, who he felt more like human with, instead of a hound dog abandoned in the ring. But even so, he has already gone too far in something he couldn't come back from. And he could see that it also affected you.

"Done." You spoke out of nowhere, snapping him back to reality. When his eyes meet yours, you could tell that something was bothering him. His gaze looked so...lost. But he was looking at you.

"Thank you." He said, his voice rough from staying quiet for so long so he cleared his throat.

You observed him for a second before speaking again. "You don't have to feel guilty." Hearing that, he looked at you again with slightly wider eyes, caught off guard. "You said they attacked you first. Of course you'd have to protect yourself." You gave him dismissive shrug as an attempt to show that you don't blame him for getting into a fight.

"Yeah, I know..." Hajun answered, almost whispering. He looked like he had so much to say but didn't know how to, didn't have right words for it but still, you patiently waited for him to make up his mind. "But...I'm sorry." He finally added, his fingers tightened together in a firm fist.

"You don't have to apologi-"

"I do. I'm sorry that I've been worrying you all this time. And I shouldn't have accepted his request again, knowing what he'd want from me and rest of Sabbath..." He murmured loud enough for you to hear, but he sounded so tired that he could barely control his tone.

With a sigh, you reached to cup his cheeks with your hands. "You didn't have bad intentions though. And don't apologize to me. If you have anyone to apologize for the most - it's you." You explained while eyeing his bruises and wounds he got from his fight and that shut him up quickly.

You do understand that it's his job, that he's doing this for his brothers, that he gets into few street fights which isn't rare in Korea, but you dislike it. And what you dislike more than his violent environment is how he treats himself, how he doesn't care what happens to him as long as his brothers will be fine and well fed. It breaks your heart to see him acting like a vessel for his family.

Hajun remained quiet, he didn't have anything else to say. What you didn't expect him though, was him wrapping his arm around you and bringing close to his embrace. His silence only adding to the heavy situation. Then he rested his second hand on your waist and his chin on your shoulder. He didn't know what to say in that moment but he really, really wanted you to stay.

Vinny:

Today was the day half of Korea dreamed of, people were busy cheering for the winner of League of Streets, Jay Jo. But he wasn't the one you were looking at, looking for. Instead, it was the boy next to him with ruby red hair, his face down in shame, his hands trembling.

Vinny....

It's beyond the imagination of crowd how useless he feels right now. He sacrificed everything, he worked hard, yet why...why?! Why is it that he could never have the win? Why is that he's just never enough? Honestly, even you didn't know how to cheer him up anymore.

But still, you waited outside for him while he was getting tested for doping, putting your jacket back on due to cold weather that doesn't seem to be changing. While you were waiting, your thoughts were on Vinny. What were you supposed to say to him? What could you possibly do or say to cheer him up right now? Would he even accept it? Or would he push you away?

While these thoughts kept haunting you, Vinny came out of the staff room with gloomy face. Your attention immediately shifted to him and your heart ached at the sight of him. He looked so devastated but as always, trying to mask it up.

"Vinny!" You called out his name to grab his attention. He raised his head at the sound of your voice, turning around to face you with surprised expression. But his face turned gloomy again in matter of seconds.

You walked towards him, getting closer and closer with each step while nervously thinking about what to say. You'd congratulate him but what should you congratulate him for? If you ask him how he's doing though, that would make him feel even more pathetic, considering Vinny doesn't like getting pitied. Then maybe you should tell him that he tried his best, but even tha-

"What?" His voice snapped you back to reality, realising you're already standing close to him - too close. His heterochromic eyes rest on your face.

"I...Um...You were amazing out there." Your voice came out hesitant and you immediately cursed yourself for that. C'mon, you were supposed to say it confidently!!

Silence.

Neither of you said anything after that. The only thing you heard was the sound of his breathing and your heart that was going to burst out of your chest any time soon.

"Are you kidding me?" He snapped. Vinny's voice wasn't loud, he wasn't yelling - no. But his tone was sharper than any blade, enough to catch you by surprise.

"No? I'm not kidding. I think you were amaz-"

"What about me is amazing?" He asks, this time without any bite in his voice nor sarcasm. "No matter how hard I trained, I still couldn't win this competition. How is that amazing?" His eyes narrowed at you but not in distrust, but in desperation he tried so hard to hide.

"Vinny, no matter what you say, you were amazing today. And I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks so--"

"Shut it."

"I'm proud of you-"

"I said stop."

His sharp voice kept cutting you off, leaving you no other choice than shutting up. With a soft sigh, you gave up. His eyes were now glued on the ground, lost in whatever he was thinking. After that, he turned around to walk away but your voice stopped him.

"I didn't say it out of pity. I truly am proud of you, Vinny."

Wooin:

The sound of water running filled the quiet bathroom, the unpleasant smell reached Wooin's nose, so he held his breath. He washed blood off of his hands, his knuckles were bruised, his lip cut open, blood making his lips sticky. He tried to clean himself up as fast as he could since his dad's guard was waiting for him. His dad...He would be so mad...

The sound of door opening caught his attention. Wooin thought it was probably his bodyguard checking if he was done, so he didn't look up, he didn't even want to see him. But then-

"Wooin?"

The familiar voice of female, that familiar voice he grew to love, reached his ears and he didn't hesitate to turn around, despite being surprised. "[Reader]? What are you doing here...in boys' bathroom?"

You stared at his cut lip, bruised knuckles, blood on his clothes, messy hair and exhausted eyes, like he just wanted to give up. Your heart ached at the sight of him. It's so unusual to see him looking so vulnerable. "I...heard that you got into fight so I was worried." You answered, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Wooin, however, didn't let you do that due to his shoulder already aching and shifted away instead. "I'm surprised my guard let you in."

"Oh I forced him and threatening that I would snitch on him about his relationship with our history teacher." You said in light-hearted tone to ease the tension and thankfully, his lips twitched into ghost smile, but it faded away too quickly.

"Anyway.... Do you need help in cleaning up?" You gently offered.

"Hm, maybe if I was four and still taking bubble baths." He sarcastically says and turns around to wash his knuckles again.

"Okey... Why did you get into fight though? You could get in trouble."

"I already am in trouble." He corrected. "Surprising, isn't it?" His tone drips in sarcasm again, habit he accidentally picked on since he was young.

"Answer my question." Now you demanded after noticing that he tried to avoid it. "Did they say something to you?"

Wooin sighs and mutters something under his nose but you couldn't catch it. Then he puts his hands in hand dryer, the machine immediately activates. "Just something stupid." He states dismissively.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you questioned him further. "You wouldn't act like this over something stupid."

You watched him take his hands out of the dryer, checking if his hands were still somehow wet - they weren't. "Does it matter? I've set an example of why they shouldn't get cocky with me. Doubt they'll do it again unless they want free tickets to hospital."

"Fear isn't solution, Wooin..." You spoke again, now concerned to how he started thinking. Like him. "Well-" you tried to change topic to don't sound accusing but he cut you off.

"If they refuse to show respect, making them scared will force them to."He says, not looking at you.

At that, your heart broke. He has changed so much after that accident, it's like he's completely different person. You know that he was defending himself, it's not like him to throw fists out of nowhere without being provoked to do so. But... "Is that whar your father taught you?" Before you could stop yourself, the question rolled off of your tongue on its own.

At that, he froze. Not visibly, but he still did. His eyes slowly moved up to your face and he opened his mouth to say something but the sudden knock on the room made you both go still.

"Sir, are you done? We should hurry." Wooin's so-called bodyguard - that was literally taking him to man he needed to be protected from - interrupted, calling for Wooin with urgency.

"Yeah, coming." Wooin answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking away from you. Leaving you with thousands of thoughts and heavy heart but maybe you also left him with one.

#Spotify #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker manhwa #sabbath crew #wooin windbreaker #wooin yoo x reader #wooin yoo #yoo wooin #yoo wooin x reader #joker wb #joker windbreaker #joker windbreaker x reader #vinny windbreaker #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #this is shit but whatever

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corroded-hellfire · 6 months ago

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Oh Red may I please request little Eliza playing at drinking tea with her brothers and dad? Maybe she even puts make up on them and paint their nails too

Oh absolutely, my darling! Your wish is my command 😘

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: pregnant!reader

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Daddy?” Eliza sing-songs as she skips over to the couch. She doesn’t bother to wait for her father to take his eyes off the television before she climbs into his lap.

“What’s up, sweet pea?”

“Will you play with me?”

He smiles down at her and grabs one of her small sock-clad feet in his hand.

“What do you want to play?” Eddie knows he isn’t going to be thrilled with the answer by the way the four-year-old looks up at him with her wide brown eyes and adorably bats her eyelashes. He makes a mental note to tell you to stop teaching her ways to use her cuteness against him.

“I wanna have a tea party,” she says.

Eddie holds in his groan. Tea parties always had an air of pretension about them that Eddie didn’t like—even ones hosted by little girls. He blames his metal “lifestyle” growing up, but you’ve called him out on more than one occasion for just not wanting to do them because they’re boring. He has yet to admit you’re right.

“Doesn’t Mommy want to have a tea party with you?” He has no shame in pawning this off on you. In his opinion, you fit in better with the pink frilly tablecloth and the teddy bears wearing lacy hats than he does.

“Mama’s sleeping,” Eliza says, sadness evident in her tone. Your daughter has noticed you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Both you and your husband explained to her that you get tired easily since your body is growing two babies, but it’s not something a little girl so young can easily understand. All she knows is that her mommy doesn’t do as much with her anymore. It tugs on Eddie’s heartstrings, and he can’t bear to deny her.

“Okay, let’s have a tea party,” he says.

Eliza claps her hands together in rapid succession before leaping off her dad’s lap and running down the hallway to her room. It’s impossible for Eddie not to smile as he turns the television off and pushes himself up off the couch. By the time he reaches her room, Eliza has her table and chairs set up in the middle of her room and is digging her Disney Princess tea set out of her toy box.

Once it’s clutched in her little fists, Eliza turns around and disapprovingly looks over her father’s outfit.

“Daddy, you can’t wear that to a tea party,” she says, walking forward to set the tea set on the table.

Eddie frowns as he looks down at his black jeans and faded Black Sabbath tee.

“Why not?” he asks.

“It’s too dark!”

“Well, I don’t own any pink clothes, Your Highness.”

“Fine,” she huffs, conveying her disappointment. But she quickly perks up and runs back to her toy box. “I got an idea!”

“What might that be?”

The top half of your daughter disappears for a few moments as she dives headfirst into her toy box. Objects clank and bang around inside as she pushes them around, looking for one item in particular.

“Aha!” Dark curls bob back into view as she stands up straight, brandishing a pink and white box that fills Eddie with dread. Eliza walks towards him, showing him the Barbie makeup kit she had gotten from Santa this past Christmas.

“Liza…” Eddie says. He’s not able to get another word out before she gives him those puppy dog eyes again, though.

“Pleeeeease, Daddy? You have to look pretty when you go to a tea party.”

“I’m not pretty?” Eddie asks, cocking an eyebrow and resting his hands on his hips.

The way that Eliza’s nose wrinkles up as she looks him over says it all.

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head.

“Pfft,” Eddie scoffs as he walks over to sit down on his daughter’s bed. “Mommy thinks I’m pretty.”

“Because she loves you,” Eliza replies, absent-minded, as she sets the makeup kit down next to Eddie and begins to open it up. He has no time to be offended before she asks, “Can I paint your nails?”

Eddie lifts a ringed hand up and looks over his short, stubby nails. It wouldn’t be the first time they were painted, honestly. In high school they’d sometimes be painted various shades of black, blue, or green courtesy of Brittany. He internally cringes at the memory. It’s definitely time for a much better girl to paint his nails.

“Sure, kid,” he tells her.

Eliza grins and picks two small bottles up from her kit. She clicks the glass jars together before she holds them up for her dad to see.

“Red or pink?”

“Uh…” Eddie wrinkles up his nose as he inspects the two bottles held in her small hands. The red is nice and dark while the pink is full-on shimmery and sparkly. “Red.”

Eliza nods once and puts the pink polish back in its case.

“Turn,” Eliza says, hoisting herself up on her bed and patting the comforter between her and her dad. Eddie twists, tucking one leg beneath him so he’s able to face the little girl properly.

The room is notably quiet as your daughter opens the bottle, holding the cap and brush in one hand, and setting the bottle down on the Barbie kit with the other. An involuntary smile quirks Eddie’s lips as he watches Eliza get to work. Her round little face squishes up as she situates Eddie’s larger hand on the lid of the makeup kit and sticks her fingers between his to spread them open. As she leans in and presses the tip of the brush to his nails, Eddie notices how Eliza sticks her tongue out–just slightly–as she concentrates. Whatever gene Eddie inherited that gave him that quirk is strong; he’s given it to all three of his children so far. Silently, he wonders if the twins will do it as well.

As expected, Eliza paints most of the skin surrounding Eddie’s nails along with the nails themselves. It feels cool and sticky against your husband’s skin and he wrinkles his face up almost identically to how the little girl did just minutes ago.

“Okay, switch hands.”

Eddie does as he’s instructed, bringing the freshly painted one up near his mouth so he can blow on the wet polish. The last thing he needs is to smear the red on something, forgetting it was there.

“What’s going on in here?”

Luke leans against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the beauty parlor in front of him.

“Gettin’ ready for a tea party,” Eliza says, not lifting her head from her task. She switches to Eddie’s ring finger and glances up at her brother. “You wanna play, too?”

Normally, Luke would flat out decline. But he spies the makeup sitting between his father and sister and his mischievous mind starts concocting.

“Sure,” Luke says, taking one step into the room. “On one condition.”

The look that Eddie gives his middle child warns him not to start anything with his sister.

“What?” Eliza asks.

“I’ll come to your tea party if you put some of that makeup on Dad’s face.”

Eliza sits up straight, eyes widening in excitement as she looks between the two men in the room. Her eyes turn pleading as she leaves them on her father.

“Pleeeeease, Daddy?” she begs. “A tea party is more fun with more people!”

One look at the various colors of eyeshadows and lipsticks is enough to make Eddie cringe. But the look on little Eliza’s face is so hopeful and Eddie can’t bear to crush it.

“Only if Luke gets Ryan to join, too,” Eddie compromises.

“Luke?” Eliza bats her eyelashes at her older brother, who, admittedly, isn’t as susceptible to them as Eddie is. But they’re still pretty damn convincing.

“Oh, he won’t want to miss this.” Luke smirks and slips back into the hallway to go find his brother.

“Yay!” Eliza cheers as she goes back to finishing up Eddie’s hand.

The two brothers come into Eliza’s room just as she’s recapping the red nail polish.

“What do you think, Lize?” Eddie muses as he rests his freshly painted hands on his thighs. “Think your brothers need to be made prettier for the tea party, too?”

Eliza nods, looking over the two boys. “Oh, yes.”

Eddie chuckles, somewhat evilly, as he stands from the bed.

“Red or pink, gentlemen?” Eddie asks, offering his previous seat to them.

“You said he would be getting makeup put on,” Ryan grumbles to Luke.

“Nail polish isn’t really makeup,” Luke argues with a shrug.

“Yes, it is,” Ryan and Eliza reply simultaneously.

Ryan gives his younger brother a gentle shove towards the bed, leading to the fourteen-year-old stumbling over to Eliza’s bed.

“Why are we having a tea party, Liza Bean?” Ryan asks as Luke takes a seat.

“Cause I wanna,” Eliza answers, picking up the two colors of polish for Luke to see. “And Mama is always tired, so I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Both Munson sons share a look, and Eddie can see the resignation in their gazes, hearts once again gripped by Eliza.

Luke takes a deep breath as he turns back to his sister.

“Pink,” he says.

Ten minutes later, Luke has sparkling pink nails, and Ryan has dark red ones to match his dad.

"I think red is my color," Ryan comments as he takes a seat at the small tea table set up in the middle of Eliza's room. The chairs are comically small for everyone in the family but Eliza, but she is quite happy about that. It always makes her giggle to see her parents or brothers attempt to situate themselves on the tiny pink wooden chairs.

Luke takes the seat next to Ryan and leans over to inspect his nails.

"That's too dark to be red," Luke says.

"It's not purple," Ryan scoffs.

"Or pink!" Eliza adds.

"Why am I the smartest Munson?" Luke groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Excuse me?" Eddie grumbles.

"You're excused," Luke says before turning back to his siblings. "It is red, but it's more of a maroon or scarlet."

"Was that crayon you ate when you were five maroon or scarlet?" Ryan quips.

"It was just red, thank you very much," Luke says, sitting up straighter.

"Alright, about Dad wearing this makeup now..." Ryan smirks, eyes darting between Eliza and Eddie.

"Okay, fine, let's do this." Eddie grabs one of the small pink chairs and drags it over to the side of Eliza's bed. He plops it down backwards and takes a seat on it. He tilts his face up and closes his eyes. "Let's see what you've got."

"Hmm..." Eliza hums, looking over the different colored powders awaiting her use. They all look so tempting, it's hard for her to choose. "Should I use blue or green?"

"Use blue on Dad, green on Luke," Ryan suggests.

"Okay!" Eliza chimes.

"W-Wait, what?" Luke stammers.

Ryan smirks and claps his little brother on the shoulder.

"Gotta make you look nice and pretty, don't we?"

"That includes you too then, smartass," Eddie calls over.

"Nah," Ryan says, shaking his head. "I'm pretty enough."

"Uh, no," Eliza says, causing Eddie and Luke to burst out in laughter. "Don't worry, I'll find a color for you too, Ry-Ry."

Now it's Luke's turn to smirk and shake his older brother's shoulder.

Eliza picks up one of the pink sparkly brushes that came with the Barbie makeup kit and jabs it into the blue eyeshadow, creating a cerulean cloud that floats up around her face. With one tiny hand, Eliza holds Eddie's chin still. With the other, she reaches up and brushes the blue dust gently across her father's eyelids.

"Ooh, it looks so pretty!" she cheers before doing the same to the second eye. Not only do Eddie's eyebrows get the royal treatment, but his eyebrows, under eyes, and even the bridge of his nose end up covered with the sky-colored makeup. "Now blush!"

Eddie cracks one eye open to watch as Eliza digs through the makeup kit. She tosses tubes of lipstick out of the way and shoves eyeshadows to the side before she finally pulls out a large blush palette with cartoonishly extreme colors. Your daughter picks up a new brush and flips the clear lid off the palette. Lacking the finesse that only comes with age, Eliza dunks the brush against the brightest pink possible. Eddie internally cringes before he closes his eyes again, preferring not to see how much she's going to cake onto his cheeks.

"Wow, Dad's looking real pretty," Luke comments, the sarcasm clear as day to his father.

"I can't wait to see how pretty you're going to look," Eddie mumbles back.

"No moving," Eliza instructs.

"Yeah, Dad!" Ryan echoes.

Eliza hums in thought, tilting her head from side to side as she inspects Eddie's face. Her chocolate curls tumble and brush against her cheeks with every movement. Deciding she's done with the blush, she sets that brush down and picks up a golden tube of lipstick. Ryan and Luke watch as she pops the cap off and twists the bottom until a magenta head pops into view. Her dark eyes stare at the color for a moment, silently determining if this is the shade she wants to apply to Eddie's lips. Evidently, she decides she likes this one as she sets the cap down and grips her father's chin once more.

"Pucker!" Eliza instructs.

"Huh?" Eddie asks.

Eliza rolls her eyes, thinking that she needs to teach her father everything when it comes to makeup.

"It means do your lips like this! Like a fish!" Eliza puckers her lips up in example.

Eddie blinks his eyes open and quickly moves in to peck a kiss to Eliza's lips. The little girl giggles and swats her dad away.

"Daddy!" she whines.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"No kisses!"

Eddie pouts, but puckers his lips, nonetheless.

Just like with the eyeshadow, the lipstick does not strictly stick to the part of the face it's meant for. A pinkish purple line goes down towards Eddie's chin and a dot even gets on his left cheek. Eliza nods her approval as she recaps the lipstick and lets it roll from her hand back into the box.

"Done!" she announces.

Eddie pushes himself out of the chair and takes a deep breath. Part of him doesn't want to turn around and look at himself in the mirror hung next to Eliza's closet. But, he knows, the boys are going to make fun of him regardless of if he knows what he looks like or not. He twists towards the mirror and hears both of his sons snicker as they get a full look at his face. Eddie takes in his made-up appearance in the princess-themed mirror and can't focus on one single aspect of the makeup. He looks like a mix between the band KISS and The Joker, he thinks to himself.

"I look pretty," Eddie finally says.

"You do!" Eliza cheers, clapping her hands together. "Ryan, your turn."

With only a minor sigh, Ryan stands up, ready to accept his fate. He walks past his dad, pausing to clap the man on his shoulder.

"Really hoping one of those babies is a girl now, aren't you?" Ryan mumbles softly. "They could give each other makeovers."

Eddie chuckles and turns to face his eldest. "You think that would get us out of this? Ry, we'd just have two girls painting our faces."

Ryan winces as he absorbs his dad's words. "Oh God, you're right."

Eddie laughs and gives Ryan a push in the direction of the chair he just vacated.

"Alright," Ryan says as he takes a seat. "Glam me up, baby."

Once Eliza has finished with Ryan, he has pink bubblegum eyeshadow, ruby red blush, and coral lipstick. Last but not least, Luke ends up with forest green eyeshadow--which he complains clashes with his blue eyes, pinkish orange blush, and wine red lipstick.

"Now," Eliza declares as she packs up her makeup kit, "time for tea. Everyone sit." She wipes her hands off, clapping them against one another, as she walks up to the table to join her guests. "Oh, no! I forgot we need tea. Daddy?" She grabs the large pink teapot in the middle of the table and holds it out towards Eddie. "Can you put water in this?"

"No real tea?" Luke complains, jaw dropped in mock shock.

"Real tea gross," Eliza tells him.

Eddie goes off to fill the pot with water, and Eliza takes her seat next to Luke. The little girl swings her legs beneath the table and smooths out the skirt of the overall dress she's wearing. Footsteps approach the bedroom and Eliza kicks her legs faster in anticipation for the imbibements' arrival. But when it isn't Eddie that enters the doorway, but you, Eliza gasps and runs over to give you a hug.

"Mama!"

"Hey, sweet pea." You reach down and rub her back as she wraps her arms around your hips. "What've you got going on in here?" You look up and see Ryan and Luke's faces for the first time. A snort of laughter escapes you before you manage to press your lips together to keep it in.

"We're having a tea party!" Eliza tells you.

"I see," you say, struggling to keep your laughter inside. "May I join you?"

Your daughter's eyes light up and it pangs your heart that you haven't gotten to play with her as much lately.

"Yes!" Eliza squeals. She takes your hand and drags you over to the table in the middle of her room.

"Why doesn't she need makeup?" Luke asks as you forgo a small pink chair and opt to take a seat on the floor.

"Because she's already pretty," Eliza says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, Eliza," you say, placing your hand on her arm as you make yourself as comfortable as possible. "Can you go into my nightstand and grab my camera?"

"Okay!"

Eliza speeds out of the room and you turn to look at your sons again. This time, your laughter flows freely.

"Really?" Ryan asks, glaring at you. "A camera?"

"What?" you ask, putting on an innocent act. "You two look so handsome."

"This is your fault," Luke says. "We had to fill in for tea party because somebody is too busy carrying twins."

"Hey," you say, leaning back on one hand as the other comes to rest on your bump. "It takes two to tango, kid."

"I don't need to think about you two tangoing," Luke says with a shudder.

"Got it!" Eliza exclaims as she runs back into the room.

"Thank you, baby," you say as you accept it from her.

Both boys groan as you turn the device on and hold it up to take a few pictures of the two of them.

"Alright, alright, here's our tea," Eddie says as he strolls back into the room. He stops short when he sees you sitting on the floor, holding a camera. Some water sloshes out of the spout of the tea pot and splashes on his socked-foot, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

Before you can get the camera up to snap a picture of your husband, you take in his blue eye shadow, pink cheeks, and purple lips. Cackling laughter breaks forth from you and you roll backwards, flopping flat on your back on the sandy-colored carpet. Tears start to roll down your face, both hands holding your bump as you lose all control of your laughter. Eliza, just as much your daughter as she is Eddie's, swipes up the camera and takes a few shots of Eddie before he can move or protest. Once she's succeeded in capturing the evidence, Eliza begins to laugh as well, mostly due to your own reaction. She lays down on the floor next to you, giggling wildly as she rolls over and buries her head in your shoulder.

"I don't know what's so funny," Eddie says, recovering enough to walk forward and set the full teapot down on the table. He retakes his seat in a small pink chair and turns his nose up. "I think we look rather ravishing."

It's impossible for you to reply since you can't catch your breath. Both of your sons can't help but smile at your boisterous laughter either. They let you get it out for a few minutes, sitting there silently as you girls roll around on the floor. Finally, it begins to subside within you and you're able to catch your breath. Tears leave tracks down your cheeks, and you reach up to rub your eyes.

"Oh my God, that was great." you say.

Eliza pushes herself up off the floor and plops down into the remaining pink chair. She smiles at you as you try to push yourself back up into a sitting position. Only...you're not able to. Your bump makes it impossible for you to get back up without any help. Of course, Luke notices this.

"Oh, does someone need help now? Now that she's done laughing at us?" he asks.

"No," you say with a shake of your head. "I've got Liza."

Your daughter nods and slips from her seat. She walks behind you and tries to help by pushing on your shoulder blades. As strong as she is for such a tiny girl, Eliza isn't able to help upright you.

"Come on, you," Eddie says, sliding out of his chair to kneel next to you.

"You're gonna help her?" Ryan asks. "After all that laughing? And those blackmail photos?"

"Yeah, I kind of promised something about helping her off the ground if she's stuck during our wedding vows and all," he answers.

You grab your husband's hand, and he uses his other one to press against your back, easily rocking you back up to a seated position. You take a deep breath and nod your head in thanks.

"Thank you, my pretty husband."

"You really want to thank me?" he asks. "How about a kiss?"

A shrill squeal that could rival Eliza's escapes you as Eddie begins to press magenta-smeared kisses all over your face.

"I'll save you, Mama!" Eliza calls. She tries to force herself between you and Eddie but only manages to get her own face full of colorful kiss marks.

"Daddy!" she squeaks. "I said no kisses!"

"Aw, come on!" he says. "I'm just trying to share my makeup with you!"

"It's time for teeeeeea!" she yells.

"Okay, okay," Eddie says, ceasing his attack on the two of you. With a deep breath, he hikes himself back into his little pink chair.

Eliza attempts to wipe some of the smudged lipstick off your face as you try to do the same for her. Neither of you succeed, only managing to make bigger messes of one another.

"Oh, well," you say with a chuckle. "We'll be pretty like the boys for this tea party."

Eliza nods and puts herself back in her chair. She shakes her hair off of her face, frizzy brown curls falling to the sides to reveal her pink-purple face. With small hands she smooths back some stray pieces that won't cooperate.

"So pretty."

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