#glee's weird framing

[tuiyla]

I finally found someone who shares my views 🙌. You honestly have no idea how hard it is to find someone like that in glee fandom I’m not even joking. I was wondering if you could help me I’m trying to see about protagonist centred morality and how narrative lets them get away with shit and I was wondering do you have a top 5 moments of bad things finn, schue and puck did? They are the only 3 who seems to get away with everything on the show

Okay wow, I don't know how a month went by since you sent this but here we are. Hi Anon. I'm not sure which views in particular you're referring to lol but IIRC it was the anti Finn and general anti Glee's shitty framing posts, right? Well, in any case happy to be someone people can relate to.

I'd love to hear more about whatever project it is you have going on because it's a fascinating topic. Sorry I couldn't be of help earlier but I'm hoping you'll reach out if/when you see this. Anyway, to start off the actual reply I'll just say that I'm not sure I'd lump Puck together with those two. For me, Finn and Will exist on a very unique level where they show seems wholly unaware of or unwilling to discuss their bad behaviour. Puck, while he does do yucky things and sometimes without repercussions, is overall considered to be a bully from the beginning and has themes of people expecting the worst from him and him doubling down on that. So I wouldn't say he gets away with everything. What he does get away with is pretty heinous, though.

So if we're specifically talking weird narrative framing and a disconnect between what Glee portrayed and how it treated that behaviour, we'd best start off with just that. This isn't an ordered list so rearrange into a top 5 as you see fit.

Puck gets Quinn pregnant: Even my own wording here is much more diplomatic than the actual scene deserves. I've gone into detail before and I can dig up those posts if you'd like but bottom line is that Glee views this as a consensual act between two foolish kids that has serious consequences. The narrative blames them equally, though tbh Quinn a little more because misogyny. But what Glee shows the viewer in 1x22 is an extremely dubious situation with Quinn verbally hesitating and Puck pushing more alcohol on her, not to mention the reveal that he lied about protection thus committing an act of assault in and of itself. Because this was 2010 and written by three men, they saw nothing wrong with this. To modern audiences, it's hard not to view Beth's conception as very questionable, at best.

Finn is the hero in Santana's coming out: I don't wish to dwell too much on this because frankly I've done so enough and it's self-explanatory. Also it makes my blood boil lol. It's mindboggling how they actively retcon Mash Off in IKAG and pretend Finn just really cares about her, actually. Disgusting.

Will's treatment of the kids Mercedes in Booty Camp: And really all of season 3 because he acted like his life depended on them winning Nationals Will's almost always framed as this benevolent father figure and the narrative has the nerve to blame Mercedes for deserting. His behaviour towards her was unacceptable and his double standard was glaring. And yet, we needed antagonists for ND and so the Troubletones was chosen to be in opposition. And for that to happen we needed Mercedes to leave. There are a lot of Will moments but I think the framing might be most glaring here.

Finn tells the Fabrays about the baby: All of this could just be Finn's greatest hits and I shall make him take the last two spots because as shitty as Will is, he's less obvious with most of his bs. So this is another thing I keep coming back to because I simply cannot comprehend how and why the show allowed this to be Finn's decision and his only and how it never once considered judging him for it. Regardless of the baby mess and how Quinn treated him, Finn had zero right to announce Quinn's pregnancy and the callousness with which Quinn getting kicked out of her home is treated is appalling. The show doesn't stop for a second to consider that this might not have been for the best, actually.

Finn beats up Brody: Another shitty Finn moment, another opportunity for me to wonder what the writers were smoking. This isn't one I've talked all that much about before but oh boy. How could Glee turn Finn's violent and frankly psychotic moment into something heroic? Something romantic? He beats up a guy for being a sex worker and we're supposed to find it romantic. Even though they're not together with Rachel and all Brody did was lie. Which was an issue but Glee never deals with that, no, it judges sex work wholesale and has our hero violently attack another guy. Only for Rachel to swoon at the knowledge that Finn would do that for her. Girl, get a restraining order.

So yeah, I hope that was along the lines of what you were looking for. Obviously there's a lot to be said about each and I really focused on kicking Finn while he was down (funny how people do that, huh) but Will's framing is constant throughout the series. Like I said, I disagree about Puck but he does have this one big one and some smaller instances.

[bloggirl8842]

My psych says I don’t like my mom or my ex because they make me vulnerable but I think it’s because they are/were both serial boundary violators. Well serial boundary violators sounds serious but I mean they are just good kind people who would not leave me alone when i ask(ed)

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[pricelessemotion]

poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween. 

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up. 

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets. 

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer. 

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas. 

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.  

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.  

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity. 

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him. 

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique. 

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths. 

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with. 

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses. 

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located. 

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.” 

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.   

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable. 

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?” 

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?” 

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.” 

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies. 

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest. 

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic. 

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” 

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils. 

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else. 

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—” 

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets. 

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!” 

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity. 

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.” 

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.” 

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place. 

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.” 

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door. 

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.” 

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate. 

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm. 

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns. 

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded. 

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted. 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help. 

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots. 

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you. 

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him. 

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

 Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?” 

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side. 

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care. 

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match. 

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit. 

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her. 

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry. 

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it. 

[yandere-romanticaa]

Honestly I love the idea of dabi gaslighting you into being crazy for him, because it mixed the two camps yandere dabi gets written as, the first being cruel and awful with darling as a plaything, the second being softer with darling as a fragile doll. Personally I think it's a little bit of both, because Dabi is no where near a good man, but the idea he'd completely abuse darling just the way his father did to his mom, seems to hypocritical. Instead framing it like Dabi hates the vulnerability but sorting accepting it hatches a plan where if he can slowly but surely convince you that you are the crazy one, you somehow need him, that you'll need him and that's more stable than love and when he's that insurance he can trust you enough to be softer and all you'll be is grateful. It mixes his love with the awful means he chooses to take it, since he can't be vulnerable enough to trust love but taking it is what a villain can do

I just can't see him as the 100% sadistic bastard which some fics portray him to be. While I do agree that sadism would be a big aspect of his character, there would be times when he would just. Hold you. Cling onto you.

It's weird when it happens for the first time. You've been alone for a few days and then Dabi is home. He kicks off his shoes and wordlessly makes his way towards you. He reeks of ash and blood but you find it difficult to focus on that when you feel the scorching feeling of his arms enveloping your frame.

You still as Dabi gently rests his forehead against the crook of your neck. You feel the staples of his marred flesh against your own as he uncharacteristically inhales your scent.

"...I missed you." he mumbles in a tone so quiet that if he weren't sitting so close you could have sworn that you made it up. As much as he makes fun of you, Dabi loves your fragility. He loves just how easy you are to break but he has the fire power to ensure your safety. The thought makes him giddy like a schoolboy but he's sure not to show it.

His glee would give you an inkling of power over him. He doesn't want that.

As time goes on, it starts becoming hard to judge Dabi properly as a person. You slowly unveil the truth over the ages you spend with him and, to be frank, you are lost at how you ought to see him.

It really is his father's fault for turning out the way he did. The man hardly ever spoke about his feelings but one evening a fuse broke and he told you everything. Your horrified reactions only added more fuel to his hatred as you held him in your arms, by your own volition for once. He proudly boasted how he lost the ability to cry ages ago but the pools of blood leaking out of his eyes told you a different story. The scarlet liquid stained your white t-shirt, the splotches a grave reminder of this evening.

In that moment, you were not speaking to Dabi but rather the lost little boy who could never be good enough. He made your heart swell with all sorts of colorful feelings.

By the time he fell asleep, you were still wide awake, terror running rampant in your heart with the realization that you started to fall for your captor.

And in no time, Dabi picked that fact up. Let me tell you, it made his life so much easier.

Whenever he wanted to prove a point he would just thug at your heartstrings and make you feel like a fool. He has done so much for you, is this how you are going to repay him? Depending on the severity of the fight he might threaten to burn you, but that would be a last resort.

Dabi would like to keep you in one piece, thank you very much.

He is awful and he knows it. But he's just gone too far, he is too attached to you. If you were to ever leave, he would simply go haywire. It has gotten to the point where he needs you like air but you will not have a single clue about that.

The less you know, the better.

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

A (very) incomplete list of things I loved in TSC: (obviously, spoilers)

Jean having no sense of time at the beginning. he has literally zero idea how much time has passed and has no frame of reference. it feels like weeks; we only know because we read the original series

the shift once again, this time from Jean's POV, from Nathaniel to Neil! it being a mark of respect

seeing how Neil really relayed the deal with Ichirou to Kevin and Jean (that Neil totally glossed over in TKM)

all of Jean's internal and spoken insults for everyone around him but especially all the Foxes

Jean's complete and utter disdain for short people and how many there are, just, everywhere. why are short people allowed? they should be illegal

Andrew's single word in the entire book being, "Leaving." just classic

the whole scene where Jean watches the final game? where he is so invested in how the Foxes are doing that when they win he shoves the tv?

Jean mentally adding Andrew into the Perfect Court because they need a goalkeeper, deciding that if Kevin and Riko die it would be ok because Jean, Andrew, and Neil were enough to rebuild around

Jeremy standing at baggage claim playing with a yo-yo until he gets it tangled in his headphones

Cat teaching Jean to cook

Jean being adorably horny and constantly swayed by beautiful people

Cat thinking Renee is hot

Jean just...not understanding how people function if their every move is not controlled at first? and then starting to come around?

Jean buying clothes! picking out things for himself!

Jeremy buying people in need gift cards because he can

Barkbark von Barkenstein being the silent unwitting center of a tiny war between Jean and Jeremy

Rhemann starting to realize what Jean/the Ravens have been going through at the hands of their coaches and needing to take a minute or fifty to get over it

Jean finding himself adopted into a queer family and just rolling with it

Jeremy and his complete and utter avoidance of every possible personal problem. nothing to see here, folks

Jean's glee when the Trojans first curse, being absolutely certain that this is revealing some deep well of depravity

the Trojans' techniques for staying sportsmanlike on the court (while really aggravating the fuck out of their opponents)

the fact that Neil and Jean together are basically a buddy comedy (which I NEED MORE OF)

Neil from an outside perspective as a weird little man who can negotiate without flinching with dangerous people, navigate an unfamiliar city after briefly studying printed off Mapquest instructions, coolly order a hit in the middle of a restaurant, and develop a convincing lie at the drop of a hat

Neil's tactless but relentless kindness?

"A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads. Friends."

[euseokz]

@ anton — i've never felt this way before . . i hope it never ends ! . cws : virginity loss . oral (f) . wc : 0.6k+ . genre : smut + fluff

a/n : happy (belated) anton day !! decided to finish up this wip for our sweet boy’s day hehe 🫶🏻🫶🏻

FIRST LOVE! ANTON who is in complete awe of you, so enamored he can barely hold it in.

he has never felt this way for someone, how he always wants to be close to you, how he always seems to smile more around you, how your touch always is so warm and comforting, how being away from you leaves him with a weird feeling of longing. he can’t quite describe it, but he wonders if this what love feels like, if it is this giddy feeling he feels bubbling inside his chest whenever your name is mentioned or when he sees you. maybe he does love you, and thankfully, you love him too, feeling everything he feels perfectly the same, your first time experiencing all of this too.

maybe what led you two to take so long to fully find your ways to each other was the fact you were so inexperienced in this department, but regardless, eventually, you found yourselves in each other’s arms, every kiss leaving you filled with more glee than the last, perky smiles always making their way to your lips whenever you were together. all you needed was to take the next step, completely devote yourselves to one another, wanting more than just the make out sessions and daring touches. you wanted each other badly, drawn to one another like a moth to a flame — and anton hoped it would always be like this, that he’d always want you like he did the first time.

his touches were soft, tender, each layer of clothing getting peeled off of you with a sort of gentleness only anton could give you. he gazed at your naked body with wonder, already imagining all the things he wanted to do with you — and the feeling was mutual, as soon as he too was completely bare your eyes gluing themselves to his wide frame, looking curiously, expectantly waiting for what would come next.

anton left small kisses down your neck, each one fleeting but hotter than any other one he had ever given you, making you squirm under him, a sort of fire burning in your middle, begging to be put out by anton’s plump lips. he left his last pecks on your inner thigh, then moving to press them over your folds, anxiously gulping before peeking his tongue out, licking a strip up your pussy, attentive to your reaction. you whined, arching your back ever so slightly, already desperate for more, anton’s arms wrapping around your upper thighs while your hands held them, trying to find solace in touching him. experimentally, and almost curiously, anton continued, trying to flick over your clit, the swollen bud twitching at his touch, your unintentional reactions to him something that made anton smile, only adding fuel to make him want to keep going.

he sucked on your clit, continued pressing his tongue over it, kissed your pussy and even tried pushing his tongue into your hole. anton did anything he could think of that’d possibly make you feel good, all of his guesses right enough because sooner than later you were cumming against him, your walls clenching around nothing as he continued stimulating your sensitive clit, slowing down when you started whining that it was too much, until he eventually stopped, coming up from between your legs with a satisfied grin, his lips and chin glistening with a mixture of his saliva and your slick. anton’s eyes shined, glossy arousal covering them — much like your own, so without wasting more time he moved up to kiss you again, ready to keep going with you, his first love.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum

Chapter 26

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Your fingers gently knocked against the firm wood of your boss’s closed office door, your opposite hand clutching a closed envelope.  It had been an incredibly slow day with very few meetings and a large project having just been finished, so you felt slightly more comfortable approaching her during the work day.  After a few minutes, her cheery voice beckoned you to enter.  You slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside with a small smile on your face.  

Your boss was ridiculously gorgeous.  You often wondered why she was busying her time working in a graphic design firm rather than modeling on international runways or selling luxury clothing, but at the same time, you were more than happy to be working under her.  She came from a long line of strong, independent women, and made sure to instill the same values in her workplace.

“Ms. Boa, thank you for your time,” you stated politely as you sat down in the plush seat in front of her desk.  Directly beside her computer monitor was a framed photo of her and her two younger sisters.  The sight made your smile widen.

“It’s never a problem, darling,” she responded, a small grin on her own lips as she finished typing an email, sending it off with a sharp click on her keyboard before turning her full attention to you.  “What can I help you with?”

You pulled out the envelope from behind your back, slipping it over the top of her desk.  Curiously, she took the parcel and peeled up the flap on the back, dipping her perfectly manicured nails inside the paper and pulling out a small stack of photographs, held together with a wire paperclip.  Her eyes widened almost instantly, making your heart skip a few beats as you watched her absorb what she was holding.

“No way,” she uttered under her breath before turning her sharp gaze towards you, her eyes sparkling with glee.  Her next sentence came out almost as a squeak.  “Twins?!”

You nodded eagerly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap.  “I’m about 13 weeks along now.”

Boa Hancock launched herself from her rolling chair, almost sprinting around the desk to envelop you in a hug.  She had been one of your biggest under-the-table supporters of your pregnancy struggles, having allowed you generous time off that most companies would strongly turn their noses towards.  She almost jumped off of the ground as she pulled you from your seat and wrapped her lean arms around your shoulders.

“I could cry right now, I really could!”  She pulled away from you, her hands still gripping your shoulders.  “13 weeks… that’s longer than the other two, right?”

“Yup,” you stated curtly.  “It’s been really weird coming to terms with it, but I’ve made it this long and everything’s been progressing normally according to my doctor, so I’ve finally started telling more people outside of our immediate friends.”

Hancock smoothed her hand over your cheek, a mothering gesture that made you smile brightly.  “You’re already glowing, look at you!”  

After a few moments, she finally retreated back to her desk and gazed lovingly at the ultrasound pictures you had handed her.  They were from your 12-week scan just a week prior, and you could already see their individual traits.  Large, alien-like heads, little nubs for hands and feet, two little bodies curled up tightly in your womb.

“This is probably the best news I’ve heard all year,” she sighed, clipping the pictures back together and handing them back to you in their original envelope.  “I take it you used IVF?”

“We did.  It was an insanely long process, but clearly,” you held up the envelope with a cheeky grin on your face.  “It worked.”

Hancock squealed again, spinning around in her chair.  “I’m so, so happy for you and your husband, I mean it!”

Her sentiment made your heart flutter in your chest.  Knowing sparing amounts of her history, you knew topics of maternal nature were very important to her, and the fact that one of her best employees was finally succeeding in something she had wanted for so long was an act of pride for the female boss.  She collected herself, still maintaining a smile as she folded her hands on her desk and looked at you.

“So what can I do to help you out?” she asked, her dark gray eyes focused.

“Well, I wanted to hopefully discuss maternity leave sooner rather than later,” you offered.  “I know I’ve taken far too much time off of work, so even if you wanted me back after four months–”

“Absolutely not,” she stated flatly, cutting you off.  “Sweetie, you’re pregnant with twins.  The least I would give you is a year and a half!”

You backpedaled, your eyes widening.  “That’s too much…!”

She shook her head, affirming her stance.  “Darling, think about it like this.”  She tapped one of her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of her desk.  “You are easily one of my hardest working employees.  You put your all into every single project you’re given, you work amazing with the rest of the team, you’re an all-around irreplaceable person to have.  You’re also an amazing woman outside of work.  And your husband is a heart surgeon who can barely get time off.  Twins are a handful, and even if you have good support at home, you’re going to want those extra months to spend with your babies and to share those moments with your husband when he’s home.”

Hancock’s words rendered you speechless, your jaw essentially hitting the floor.  You couldn’t disagree, though, the woman was right.

She seemed to know it, too, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs.  “So?”

You quickly bowed your head.  “I wish there was a way to repay your generosity, seriously.”

“You can repay me by giving birth to two healthy, happy babies.  And the first step to doing that is taking care of yourself.”  The smile she gave you was enough to melt a glacier.

Your eyes began to well with tears.  “Can I hug you again?”

Hancock laughed, once again standing from her seat to embrace you.  “I’m saying this as more of a friend rather than your supervisor.  You are so deserving of all the happiness you can get.  I’m so proud of you for staying so strong and pushing through what you’ve gone through, and anything you need from me over the next eight months, just say the word.  I know the entire company would be more than happy to back you up.”

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your work blouse, your lips forming a smile through their quivering.  “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Boa.”

“Have you told the rest of the team yet?” she suddenly asked.

“No, I haven’t.  Only Ikkaku knows,” you replied.

Her eyes became sparkly as her lips curled into a cheeky grin.  “Wanna go share the news?”

—

“Law, you look like you’re glowing!”  Rebecca’s large brown eyes gazed up at her superior from her seat at the nurse’s station as Law passed by with a cup of coffee in his hands.

With a small smile, he stopped to look at her.  “Do I?”

“You do!”  She stood from her seat, gathering a few papers in her hands before circling around the counter and joining Law in his walk to the break room.  “Has something big happened?  I mean, you usually don’t radiate positivity this much, but it’s just coming off of you in waves!”

Law gazed forward down the hallway as he walked, the warmth from his styrofoam cup warming his hand.  He had to admit, his shoulders had felt significantly lighter, and his chest certainly felt fuzzy in the past few weeks.  “Rebecca, if I tell you, you have to promise not to spread it around.  I’m trying to keep it under wraps for a little longer, but I think I can trust you.”

Rebecca’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly waited for whatever news Law was holding on his tongue.

His lips curled into a pleased grin.  “My wife is pregnant with twins.”

The pink-haired nurse almost dropped her papers in shock, her feet planting her to the floor as she gasped.  It clearly took her a great deal of restraint not to burst out in excitement, so she expelled her quick burst of energy by covering her mouth with her papers and exhaling a long, pronounced sigh.  “Law, that’s incredible!”

He simply smiled, continuing to walk.  Rebecca regained her composure and scampered after him.

“You guys were trying for a long time, right?”  Now it was her turn to glow with happiness.  “That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the surgeon replied, his own voice airy and light.  He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited to share the details of his personal life with someone.  While he had been keeping his surgery team up-to-date with some of the details regarding your procedures, that was mostly due to the fact that his cell phone had become a returning character in the operating theater.  Rebecca wasn’t a part of his surgery team, so her interactions with him were mostly from patient rounds.  Nevertheless, it was clear that the younger girl was more than excited to be told the incredible news, if her bright, toothy smile was anything to go by.

“How far along?” she asked.

“13 weeks.”  He took a deep breath.  “It’s been a stressful three months, but so far everything’s been going smoothly.”

Rebecca sighed dreamily.  “Wow, that’s seriously incredible… Congratulations, Law!”  After a few brief moments, she turned her head to look at her superior.  “Hey, if you want any help with picking out baby clothes, I know a really good seamstress downtown!  She runs a clothing boutique but also does custom orders.  I can put in a name for you and your contact info!”

Law pondered over her offer.  Truthfully, neither of you had started planning anything regarding when the babies would actually arrive.  The thought suddenly made Law a bit nervous.  You were just about starting your second trimester and with everything going well regarding your health and the development of the babies, it seemed like now would be a good time to begin preparing actual baby gear for your apartment.

“That’d be really nice, Rebecca, thank you,” he finally responded with a cordial smile.

Their conversation quickly dissipated as Rebecca needed to depart to go on another shift of rounds, but before she departed she scribbled a name and number onto a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of Law’s white laboratory coat.  With a small smile remaining on his lips, he entered the break room and finally placed his now-lukewarm cup of coffee on the counter before sitting down and pulling out his phone.  He had a few new text messages from you, making his smile grow.

Mama So i might have caved and told all my coworkers today… they want to plan a baby shower now but i told them to take it easy!  But dont be surprised if we get a bunch of new baby items in the coming weeks <3

Mama Wait did you change my contact name???

Mama I didnt know my phone could do that LOL it says you changed my contact name

Law chuckled as he tapped on his screen to begin typing.

I changed it a few days ago.  I can change it back to Wifey if you want.

After a few moments, another bubble from you popped up.

Mama I think i like being mama <3

Mama Ive been addressing you as ‘daddy’ in that journal you got me so i guess its not much different!!!

Law needed to duck his head to hide his broad smile from the other colleagues on their break.  The last thing he wanted was any unnecessary attention drawn to himself thanks to his uncharacteristic grin.

You need to stop making me smile, one of my nurses already told me it looks like I’m glowing.

Mama AWWW BABYYY… YOU ARE GLOWING!!!!

Mama I have to go anyway and take bepo for a walk, i’ll see you later love!

Text me if you want something brought home for dinner.

A little heart bubble appeared next to his response for you.  With a long exhale through his nose, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a long sip from his coffee.

—

Law arrived back to your apartment later that evening, a brown paper bag of take-out sushi in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

“Babe?” he called.  The apartment was eerily quiet, making his heart rate momentarily spike.

“I’m in here!” you yelled back, your voice coming from the living room.  “I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

Law was quick to kick off his shoes and round the corner into the main living space of your home, placing the bag with your dinners on the counter.  A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you sprawled out on the floor.  Bepo was laying flush against your side with his head resting perfectly on top of your belly.

“He hasn’t moved in, like, fifteen minutes,” you said.  “My neck is starting to hurt.”

Your husband walked over to your spot on the floor, sitting next to you opposite the dog and reaching his hand over to card his long fingers through Bepo’s fuzzy head.  The animal slow-blinked like a cat in response, the sight making you laugh.

“Do you think he knows I’m pregnant?” you asked.  “He’s been a lot more attentive of me lately.”

“Animals have really keen instincts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he senses something different about you,” Law replied, rubbing small circles behind Bepo’s pointy ears.  “There have been a lot of reports about animals recognizing symptoms of various illnesses in humans, maybe you smell different to him.”

The thought made you smile.  “Whatever it is, he’s already showing off how good of a big brother he’ll be.”  You fidgeted slightly on the floor, making Bepo pick his head up enough for you to push yourself up on your hands.  Law supported your back with his arm, placing a kiss on your head when you sat up high enough.

“He’s our gentle giant… we’re probably going to need to get a new vacuum cleaner, though,” he offered, holding out his hands to help you to your feet.  You eagerly gripped him back, wheezing slightly as he hauled you off the floor.

“Oh, definitely.  We’re probably going to need to wrap all of our baby things in mesh to keep his fur out!”  You placed a kiss to the tip of Law’s nose before proceeding toward the kitchen.  “Hopefully neither of them have allergies.”

Law snorted.  “Bepo would find a new home with Shachi and Penguin in that case.”

You excitedly opened the brown paper bag, your mouth watering at the sight of your favorite sushi rolls packed neatly into plastic containers.  There were five rolls in total to split between the two of you.  “You know me too well, baby,” you moaned out, removing the containers from the bag and fetching two pairs of chopsticks from your utensil drawer.

Law pulled out two chairs for the both of you at the table, helping you place your food down.  He waited until you took the first bite before digging in himself.

“So I made an impulse purchase today,” you began, pulling out your phone from your back pocket.  A few taps on your screen brought you to an online shopping app which you then showed to Law.

His eyes lit up almost immediately.  “Sora pajamas?!”  He snatched your phone out of your hands, making you laugh at his excitement.  You had ordered a set of footie pajamas for all six of the main Sora characters- Sora and the five officers of Germa 66.  “I didn’t even know they made these!”

“Me neither!  Sanji told me about them today!”  You popped a piece of sushi into your mouth.  “Sanji’s always had a weird connection with that comic.  Have you noticed how much he resembles Stealth Black?”

Law finally handed your phone back to you.  “And his siblings, too.  Have you met his older sister?”

You laughed at the thought.  “It’s uncanny!”

“Well,” Law began after swallowing another bite.  “That makes me feel better.  I might have made some purchases of my own while I was on break earlier.  I was talking to one of my nurses and she gave me the name of a woman who runs a local boutique downtown, apparently she takes orders for custom apparel.  I might have placed a few orders for baby clothes.”  He had a cheeky smile on his face as he shared the information with you.

You practically beamed at him.  “I’m glad we’re both on the same page!”  After a few brief moments of silence passed, you whispered, “Sora pajamas…”

Law beamed back at you.  Maybe he really was glowing.

[evansbby]

Pretty please give us a lil something like a drabble of Steve and Omega with Steve Jr??? Maybe cuddling their floofy baby? Please🥹

Oh I love this idea! I debated posting this drabble bc it’s so out of character for Steve… but he’s drunk so I think it’s alright! Enjoy!

Warnings: inebriation, alcohol mention, daddy kink, a/b/o dynamics, fluff

The strong whiff of beer, whiskey and cigarettes hits you almost immediately when the door opens. You instinctively clutch Steve Junior close to your chest, cowering back as the foreboding, 6’6 frame of your alpha stumbles into the room.

“Baby,” Steve slurs, grabbing you and pulling you into him with so much force that he knocks himself back, taking you with him. Both of you crash land on his bed, you on top of him with his arms locked around you as he rubs his nose against yours, “Whoops. Hi.”

You swallow, wrinkling your nose at the strong scent of alcohol radiating off of him, not to mention how dilated his pupils are. Steve had gone to some frat party with his friends (he’d told you to come too but you’d luckily managed to persuade him that you had too much work — which wasn’t even a lie). Clearly, he’d had quite a bit to drink (and smoke, based on his smell).

“You’re drunk.” You say it almost cautiously, a feeling of dread spreading in your chest. Distant memories surface, the smell of alcohol reeking off your mother’s boyfriends, the anger and fear that followed.

“And you’re cute.” Steve echoes you, kissing your nose and the side of your mouth before his glazed eyes shift to Steve Junior who you’re still clutching protectively, “Oh look, it’s your little friend. What’s his name again?”

“It’s Steve Junior.” You answer softly, the fear within you slowly being replaced by curiosity, “You’re the one who named him, Steve.”

“That’s right, Steve Junior.” He snatches the stuffie from you, the motion clunky yet still strong, and you’re too distracted by his drunken demeanour and how different it is from when he’s sober, that you don’t even notice it.

“Hey little guy,” Steve prods Steve Junior in his furry little tummy with his pointer finger, “You been taking care of your mommy while I’ve been gone?”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat, your heart doing somersaults because this is so weird. Always, in your head you’d categorised alcohol as synonymous with anger and violence. But Steve’s being the complete opposite — relaxed, less stoic, less strict than normal. It’s almost fascinating to watch.

“He says yes!” Steve announces loudly despite the fact that you’re literally two inches away from him. His hand meanders down to give your ass a squeeze, “He says mommy’s been a good girl today.”

He gives you your stuffie back, and you hug the little fur-ball close to your chest, loving how Steve’s alpha scent sticks to Steve Junior’s fur. Meanwhile, Steve grabs your face, raining kisses all over your cheeks, nose and forehead. He’s never been this affectionate with you before, and you don’t know whether any moment he’s going to shift gears…

“Have you been good today, omega?”

You nod quickly, “Y-Yes daddy— I mean Steve. Did all your laundry and ironed your clothes for tomorrow too. I also made some pasta if you’re hungry, it’s in the fridge.” That is, if Bucky or Sam haven’t eaten it, you think to yourself sourly. They’re always eating the food you make — which you wouldn’t even mind if only they weren’t so mean to you all the time.

Steve strokes your hair softly, blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on you, “My perfect baby omega,” he croons softly, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything so softly, “So perfect for me…” He looks down at Steve Junior seriously, “What do you think, bud? Isn’t mommy perfect?”

Steve Junior’s coal black eyes stare coolly back at Steve, unwavering and unblinking, but Steve nods drunkenly anyways, his own blue eyes suddenly widening in glee, “Ha! You hear that? He just told me that he thinks you’re fucking sexy.”

It’s a ridiculous conversation, but you can’t help but indulge both him and yourself. And it’s so crazy how, for the first time in a long time, you feel kind of lighthearted. Your mouth drops open, “He didn’t say that! He’s my baby.”

The mischievous glint in Steve’s eye is almost instantaneous, and he flips the two of you over, pinning you against the mattress, his hard crotch grinding into you, “Want me to give you a real baby?”

You swallow, “I… uh —”

“You’d be even sexier when you’re pregnant.” He continues, and you have no idea what to say when he says things like this. Not that you’re able to say anything at all because the feel of him steadily humping against you has you going weak in the knees and dry in the throat.

“Wouldn’t she, Steve Junior? Wouldn’t mommy be even sexier when she’s pregnant?” He makes the stuffie nod his head, “See? Even our baby agrees.”

Despite the subject matter, you can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your chest at Steve’s light tone, the way he’s talking to your stuffie, the way he said “our baby.” Sober Steve is many things, but silly and playful is not really one of them…

Steve yawns, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep whiff, his body almost immediately relaxing on top of you, “Mmm, can’t wait to knock you up. My perfect little wife…”

He falls asleep like that, on top of you with his arms wrapped around you and face firmly in the nape of your neck, with Steve Junior sandwiched between your bodies. Shyly, hesitantly, you reach up to card your fingers through his blond hair. He looks peaceful and so much less intimidating when he’s asleep.

Maybe he’ll be nice like this all the time now! The omega inside you screeches happily. And you can imagine it: his softness, the laidback jokes, the sweetness, the way he’d spoken to Steve Junior. You can’t help but get giddy, falling asleep holding onto both your alpha and your stuffie, hope swirling in your chest.

A girl could dream, right?

***

The end! What do we think? Oh boy… this makes Steve Junior’s fate all the sadder🫣

[sweaterkittensahoy]

okay if you had to "there was only one bed!" two of the guys, what do you think would be the funniest combo?

Okay, so "funniest" is very subjective. Let's go to the bullets for this one:

Bucky and Buck: Fucking hilarious as mutual idiots pining trying not to touch each other even though they ALWAYS touch each other, so the effort to NOT is actually the funniest goddamn thing. Go to bed back to back but NOT TOUCHING and wake up cuddled like puppies. But they're fucking idiots, so they snap apart like two magnets with the same polarity and try and pretend like NOTHING IS WEIRD. Good news for us, they have to do this A SECOND TIME. And this time. Well, fuck it. "We always touch, Bucky. Why is this weird?" / "It's...intimate." / "What about us isn't?" And then the same second realization hits, and they snap the bed frame with the victory fuck.

Buck and Curt and Bucky: Zero attempts at sex. Curt grew up sharing a bed with siblings and wakes up drooling on Buck's chest with his legs on Bucky's stomach. Kicks Bucky in the dick in his sleep.

Bubbles and Crosby: No platonic cuddling issues. But then they both wake up with boners, and um. Well. Huh. Maybe we should pretend that didn't happen. Crosby makes it ten minutes before his brain sends him into the bathroom while Bubbles is trying to jerk off and frantically NOT say Crosby's name. Crosby shouts, trips on nothing, and takes out the shower curtain as he lands in the tub. They laugh so hard they cry. During their first kiss, Crosby gets shampoo in his eyes.

Rosie and Ken: They both stare at the bed, and then Rosie blurts out, "I can take the couch," and Ken says, "No, I can," and somehow as they argue about it, Rosie ends up saying, "No, look, you have to take the bed because if I take the bed, all I'll think about is you NOT being on the bed." And it's a fucking rom-com moment of cuteness that ends with them both going for the kiss and hitting their noses together hard.

Bucky and Curt: There's no drama. Just some quality fuck and snuggle time. Curt is absolutely the big spoon.

Curt and Ken: Look. Curt's the biggest slut in the 100th. Even past Bucky. And he will remind you. "What do I care, Kenny? I've been in beds with people I've known a lot less about." / "Fuck, your sex life must be average." / "What?" / "The best sex is with someone who knows you." / "Prove it." Anyway, it's filthy.

Douglass and Hambone: Hambone bites in his sleep. Feral motherfucker. In his defense, he got that gold tooth after his brother punched him in his sleep. So.

Douglass and Blakely: Both silently wishing for a tree to run into full-faced to not have to lie next to each other and have the yearnings. Crosby is actually there as well and calls dibs on the couch, which leads them both to yelling WHAT and then staring at each other. Crosby takes the couch and knocks out and sleeps like the dead. Douglass and Blakely figure it out.

Demarco and Macon: Macon calls dibs because of his neck. Demarco offers to rub his neck once he's had a shower because he knows it hurts. Just as they're both realizing that maybe they're into each other, Meatball takes a running leap onto the bed because he has not been paid attention for a full five minutes.

Bucky and Brady: Brady intentionally sticks his cold feet on Bucky and cackles with glee. Bucky body slams him onto the bed, which just makes Brady laugh more.

Jack and Bucky: There is nothing funny here. Jack outranks Bucky, and Bucky can sleep in the fucking tub for all Jack fucking cares. Bucky sleeps on the floor on the side of the bed Jack sleeps on just in case he can trip him in the middle of the night. Jack kicks him in the eye by accident. It's the funniest night of Bucky's life.

Bucky and Marge: Oh no. What will they do. Clearly just platonic friends on a trip to meet Marge's husband at his new base. However could they--they fuck. They call Buck long distance and they fuck.

Buck and Marge: Oh, they absolutely call Bucky long distance and fuck. And then Bucky drives five hours to meet them at the hotel for a fuck at dawn.

Jack and Rosie: Jack is dying slowly because he's had a crush since Rosie was first a dork in the officer's club, and now he's seen him fly and be such a good fucking leader. Meanwhile, Rosie's brain is just the Wii background music because Jack's so nice! What a great friend! But then he realizes Jack only sleeps in his boxers, and oh fucking shit i might have a problem.

Ken and Winks: What's weird about this. They've been sharing a pup tent by the runway for months. A whole bed? And they can cuddle but ALSO turn over? HEY!

Jack and Harding: Jack does NOT have feelings for his CO. That's not a thing he is dealing with. Nope. Harding does NOT have feelings for his Air Exec. That's not something he is dealing with. Nope. But turns out they're both horrific insomniacs and they end up talking and well. It works out.

Meatball and Demarco: There is one bed, and Meatball spoons Demarco.

Meatball and anyone else: It's Meatball's bed. What the fuck do you think you're doing.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all!! Thank you all so so much for the love and support for this AU! I really appreciate it! This next chapter is a peak into Eddie's life and his coping with University. Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 3 

Eddie’s POV 

Eddie sat across from you, in the rundown booth of Mr. Frosty’s. It was a burger joint older than the both of you and well loved by both the students of Hawkins and older working adults alike. Eddie had ordered a burger, with fries and a float to share. You had ordered chicken strips, causing Eddie to scoff at you. Burgers and soft serve were what Mr. Frosty’s were known for, but it seemed like you were sheepish about eating in front of him anyways, so he didn’t push. 

Eddie almost felt embarrassed about how carelessly he was putting away his burger, but he was starving, so he ignored the feeling. He hadn’t missed how your lips twitched up in a smile as he ate the thing in what was probably 4 large bites before sighing and slumping in the booth. You were mostly quiet, and Eddie had been at first way too focused on his burger, but after that was completed, he was able to just slowly eat fries and talk to you. 

You intrigued him. It wasn’t every day he got to really meet someone outside his circle with his friends. I mean, sure, there were the parties he occasionally dealed at and would pick up a pretty person to release some stress and tension, but outside of that, his circle was fairly small. Plus, something about you drew him in. Nothing felt too weird and he didn’t feel as self conscious as usual. 

“So, graduating early, huh?,” Eddie asked, grabbing for a fry before dipping it in the soft serve overflowing in the float. 

You nodded, grabbing for a fry and nibbling thoughtfully. “Yeah. I have that timed loan.” 

Eddie nodded, sipping on the float while contemplating that. He had considered that exact loan but had preferred to work on the side while having his scholarship to cut down on costs. He figured it would probably be amazing to graduate within the time frame it allowed in order to have the entire sum of money forgiven. However, he’d rather just risk it with other forms of financial aid due to his… track record with graduating in the past. Sure he had loans, but they weren’t timed. He just sort of figured his suffering from working on campus during summers and then also working private music lessons would assist in paying back the mountain of debt he was building. 

“What about you?,” You questioned, pulling Eddie from his thoughts.

“Huh?,” Eddie furrowed his brows, cocking his head in confusion. 

You laughed a bit, smiling at Eddie. He felt his face heat up at your smile. Damn, she’s cute. 

“I mean, why are you taking a beginner’s guitar course? You clearly know how to play, Mr. Rockstar,” You teased, swiping a fry through the ice cream now dripping down the sides of the tall frosted glass. You ate while looking at Eddie, your eyes sparkling with amusement and now appearing less sheepish. 

Eddie felt a smile tug at his lips, a flush clearly building under his skin. “How do you know? What if I am just a really fast learner?,” He argued playfully, pointing a fry at you with narrowed eyes. 

You laughed, the sound igniting a sort of glee in Eddie. He wanted more. “Puh-lease. I heard from the professor that you teach private guitar lessons. Bet you play at The Hideout too, huh?,” You teased while referencing the ever popular venue for budding musicians near campus, raising a brow as you ate the slightly soggy and ice cream coated fry from earlier. 

Eddie felt his whole face heat up to the tips of his ears, his head hanging a bit to use his hair to cover his red cheeks. That contagious and sweet laugh graced his ears again as you giggled, shaking your head as you held your side and tried to hide your smile. 

“That obvious, huh?,” Eddie asked, a bit sheepish. 

You nodded a bit, fighting back the giggled clearly and faking a serious expression. Eddie felt his own lips get tugged in a smile and his head clear. This had been surprisingly easy. You were easy. Something felt… different. Maybe it was because you hadn’t seen the raw and jagged edges of him yet, or because you weren’t there to get anything out of him other than to learn. Usually people only came to Eddie for weed or sex. But you were here, just offering to buy him a burger as thanks for helping you learn his favorite instrument. 

“Look, I’ll take it as a compliment that you think my shitty band is rockstars, Bug,” He teased, sipping some more of the float down as you shook your head, smiling at him. 

“Of course it’s a band!”

Eddie threw a fry at you, eyebrows furrowed despite his smile and laughter. 

“Hey!”

The two of you giggled the night away and Eddie felt a little of the weight on his shoulders lighten. Maybe a new friendship was just what he had needed. 

Eddie sat in his apartment, staring at his laptop. He had submitted an assignment earlier that week and was now staring at his grade, his heart sinking and his hands shaking. 

A C. He had gotten a C. 

He worked tirelessly over the project. Staying up late to figure out the mixing and different programs he was expected to use to produce. He had cried to Nancy about maybe turning out just like everyone said he would. She had assured him that he was worth more than his grades, but also that he wasn’t a failure. 

But here it was. The single letter threatening his scholarship, Uncle Wayne’s pride in his nephew finally attending college at age 20, only to last a year and a half. The thing caused him to shake and left him wanting to rip out his hair. 

Eddie sighed, closing the laptop. He read over the feedback over and over, all of it the same. All telling him that he needed to work on the quality of his mixing, branch out, and be more creative. Eddie’s frustration grew with every criticism and issue. He felt like the fire in him for music was burning out. He was tired. He just wanted to disappear. 

Eddie looked up at the clock on the dingy microwave he and Steve shared and felt a wave of relief. It was almost time for the party. The party that would be full of booze and drugs (provided by the courtesy of Eddie himself). Sure, Eddie would be selling, but he could also lose himself in the numbness of the alcohol as soon as he made a few hundred, which wasn’t hard at a party like this. Maybe he’d even catch a girl. 

Eddie stood up, waltzing off to the bathroom to prep his supplies and himself. He’d leave the worrying for later. 

Eddie arrived at the Sigma Nu house around 10 pm, the time he knew where everyone would be itching for shrooms or weed and already be pretty buzzed by the strange concoction of jello shots and Sigma Slush (the frats version of jungle juice, only turned into an slushy consistency to beat the heat of the bodies piled into the house). He adjusted his sleeveless muscle tee, his tattoos out on display. He felt a tug of worry over whether his eye makeup and liner was too much, but pushed it down with a confident stride into the packed room. He strode back towards the kitchen, taking a red solo cup and dipping it into the tub container full of icy alcohol, pulling the cup out when he was satisfied with how much was in it. He took the cup out towards the back porch, his usual selling spot among the picnic table near the shadow of the bushes. 

He smirked when he spotted a group of people already seated, clearly itching for a hit. Guess this night wouldn’t be a total fail. 

Eddie was significantly gone by the time he noticed the one and only Chrissy Cunningham walking towards him. She was one of the most well known people at Hawkins University, and viewed as ‘Hawkins’ Local Sweetheart’. She was on the dance team and a member of a sorority that boasted the hottest girls on campus. Why would she head over to Eddie to grab some weed?

Eddie sat up, eyes squinting as he glanced towards the shy blonde. She was looking around nervously, a blush clear across her cheeks. She walked towards the table, sitting across from Eddie. Eddie felt his mind swirl with thoughts and disbelief at the Chrissy Cunningham sitting by him. She tucked a stray strand of light strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, smiling timidly. 

“Hey…I’m Chrissy. I’m in your English Lit class. I just wanted to come by for…I dunno…a hit? I’ve never done this before,” She confessed shyly, her timid gaze and baby blues causing Eddie to get flustered and blush. 

Eddie was a simple guy. He liked men, women, and individuals of all sorts. He had a reputation for giving people a good time overall, and not pressuring others into a relationship. However, he had yet to experience someone as sweet and well loved as Chrissy. Plus, he couldn’t help but notice the soft pinks and blues she wore, her personality and style a clear contrast to his own. It made him excited. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s alright. You want an edible instead? It’s easier… and for you, a special discount,” Eddie winked, his words slurring together. Chrissy blushed and nodded, pointing to the knock off cosmic brownie Eddie had used concentrated infused butter in. He grinned, sliding it over and noting Chrissy’s lip bite. 

She looked up at him, her big blue eyes drawing him in as she bit a plush pink lip. “We could share…right?” 

Eddie grinned, halving the edible with a plastic knife and winking at the blushing girl in front of him, noting her squirming and slight giggle as she daintily ate the treat. 

Oh yeah. He was for sure getting lucky. 

Eddie sat in the booth at Mr. Frosty’s, slumped against the cracking vinyl seats and a pair of sunglasses over his clearly bloodshot eyes. He had split the edible with Chrissy, who ranted to Eddie over her latest breakup with local douchebag and football star Jason Carver. Afterward, the two had danced and grabbed drinks, bodies flush against each other and Eddie growing harder by the second. Chrissy had kissed him, all feverish and desperate, as he rushed to pull her into the closest room. He made sure she was sober enough to consent and understand what she was doing. It was good…great even. But something about her finishing, quickly zipping up her skirt and pulling on her cardigan, waving bye to a still shirtless Eddie and thanking him, hurt. He understood that she probably was excited by the idea of hooking up with someone who was the total opposite of Jason, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel like a toy. 

Afterwards, he went home and passed out, mind swirling with dark thoughts of his impending doom and his obvious failing grades. He immediately thought of you and the texts you’d exchanged back and forth, the small sparking friendship you were building. He decided to ask if you two could grab lunch. You had texted back almost immediately that you would be there as soon as you finished your desk shift. 

Eddie went ahead and ordered fries and an over the top shake, something ridiculous like banana chocolate cream whatever. He could care less. He was sipping on the milkshake and munching away on fries when you slid into the booth across from him, a polo with the University name on it and your expression a bit confused while also slightly amused at Eddie’s state. He groaned. 

“Look, just say-” 

“You look like you stepped straight out of Weekend At Bernie’s,” You giggled out, your light laugh making Eddie wince slightly with his headache, but soothing his hurt nonetheless. 

“I partied a little too hard,” He joked, smiling at you weakly, holding his head in his hands and sighing. 

“And you decided to meet up at the best diner in town to soothe your hangover?,” You joked, cocking a brow at Eddie. 

He felt his cheeks heat and shrugged and then glared at you, confused at your attire. 

“What’s with the polo?” 

You groaned, covering your face and digging through your backpack you brought to grab at something. You pulled out a hoodie, despite the weather outside not yet reaching fall’s familiar chill. 

“I was at work, okay? I forgot that I was still wearing it…” You grumbled, snatching a fry from Eddie. 

Eddie furrowed his brows and fought off a bit of a smile. Of course you worked on campus, you were an exemplary hard worker and a perfect little academic.  “Wait, you work on campus too? Where? My roommate and a few of my friends also work on campus.” 

You mumbled, your embarrassment clear across your face as you looked away from Eddie. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m a Resident Assistant, okay? A professional narc. An RA. I live in a dorm,” You huffed out, clearly embarrassed by your position in comparison to the cool and rebellious alternative nerd that was Eddie Munson. A wicked grin grew on his face, his headache subsiding slowly at this amusing information. “No way. You? Didn’t you tell me your favorite pastime with friends is Wine Uno?,” He chuckled, cocking his head at you. He was mostly teasing, as you had shown yourself to be a bit of a rule follower and worrywart, but occasionally you revealed that you could let loose. 

You sighed, looking at him. “Look, it pays for housing, I don’t have to have a roommate, and frankly, I don’t get people in trouble unless they decide to be idiots. Then I have to follow the rules. Plus, I’m of age. I can drink,” You protested, throwing a fry at him weakly, which he had caught in his mouth somehow, clearly feeling more chipper now at your embarrassment. 

Eddie smirked, putting his chin in his hands, his elbows against the table.

“Please tell me more.”  

He was feeling a tug at his mouth and his heart felt lighter. Hanging out with you was just what he needed. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire

[taizi]

So lil request if ya feel up for it :-}

★ A story about Mikey's brothers finding out about his and Woody's secret relationship(?). Like, maybe it can be that one of them are going through Mikey's phone and they see his camera roll full of photos of him and Woody !! Or like they walk in on the two cuddling asleep or something idk :-0

Do whatever U want 💖

i went with rise on this one. i missed those guys :')

read on ao3

x

Don slams into the infirmary with a shout of, “LEO! Leoleoleoleoleoleo!”

“Congratulations, my name just sounds like noise to me now,” Leo replies drolly, as if he’s not ecstatic to have company. Sure, Raph had been camped beside his bed up until like ten minutes ago, but a lot can happen in ten minutes. 

As if to prove it, Don shoves a phone into Leo’s face. “Michael—our Michael—has a boyfriend.”

Leo sits up so fast he feels it in his entire body, an ache radiating down his spine like it’s a gong that just got rung.

“You’re lying!” 

“I would never lie to you,” Donnie says, his tone a weird mix of agitated and absolutely giddy.  

Such a gossip, Leo thinks fondly. 

Don piles onto the bed, still careful of Leo’s broken bones but a far cry from the cautious, mincing way he climbs in lately for their Youtube video essay marathons or vent sessions. Leo might have to orchestrate more tantalizing secrets for his nosy twin to uncover if it stops him treating Leo like something glass that’s about to break. 

Shoulder to shoulder, Donnie holds the phone where they both can see it. Now that Leo’s looking at it properly, he clocks the glittery sticker-covered military-grade phone case and says, “Oh, no. Tello, you didn’t. Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t steal his phone.”

“It’s called the Freedom of Information Act.”

“That does not apply here!” Leo is torn between horror—because Mikey is objectively terrifying—and glee—because Donnie is an absolute menace and he loves to see it. 

“Agree to disagree. I could have just cloned his phone onto a new device but where’s the pizzazz? Anyway—”

He brings up Mikey’s camera roll, scrolling through dozens of post-invasion celebratory selfies and candids, past a few scattered pics of Mikey’s own cooking and digital art (and Leo makes a mental note to revisit that, because there aren’t as many of those as there ought to be) and finally making an “ah-HAH” sound under his breath, tapping on a particular picture to blow it up. 

It’s a selfie taken at arm’s length of two faces squished together to fit the frame. One face belongs to Leo’s little brother, caught mid-laugh. The other one is distinctly human, almost lost in a haphazard cloud of yellow curls and turned sideways to plant a kiss on Mikey’s spotted cheek. 

Leo finds himself smiling involuntarily. Mikey looks happy. It’s cute. 

Of course, if Mikey thinks he can have a whole-ass secret boyfriend and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming. Not when he has three older brothers and an older sister who have been waiting their entire lives for this moment. 

“This doesn’t prove they’re dating,” he points out, mostly just to play devil's advocate. “Maybe they’re super affectionate friends. The five of us do cheek- and forehead-kisses on occasion, too.”

“Mm-hmm, yes, I thought you might say that, and I am, of course, prepared to offer more evidence.” 

Donnie taps out of the photo gallery and brings up Mikey’s messaging app. He scrolls for a bit, past the sibling group chat, April, their own names, Raph, their dads—even Rupert, what the hell?—and then, right beneath Piebald and before Casey Sr., is a text thread with a contact simply, and tellingly, labeled babe💛.

On pure reflex, Leo smacks the phone out of Don’s hand before he can open the thread. 

“So what we’re not about to do is read his texts to and from his boyfriend,” he says, very deliberately, so a single world won’t be misconstrued.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Donnie mumbles, in a tone that suggests that he was, in fact, gonna. 

Leo picks up the phone and goes back to the picture. He checks the timestamp, humming thoughtfully to see that it was from a little over two months ago. They've certainly been busy since the whole Krang situation, but Mikey has always had time for the things he loves. He makes time. He’s just a kid, albeit one who had to grow up too fast, but he was born with a good sense of what’s really important.

And this guy, Leo thinks, seems like he could be important. So why is this the first they’re hearing about him?

“How exactly did you make this discovery?” Leo asks, handing the stolen phone back. 

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. regularly scans all of our devices for anything icky—you’re welcome—and he asked me who the blond guy was,” Donnie explains offhandedly. “He thought we had a new friend he hadn’t met. You know how he gets when he thinks we’re leaving him out of literally anything.”

“Like father, like son,” Leo says sagely.

Donnie lowers the phone and makes direct eye contact. “No.”

Leo laughs so hard he thinks he might actually be in danger of puncturing a lung with one of his broken ribs. Donnie goes back to snooping, but there’s a pleased quirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“DONALD!” a voice thunders suddenly from down the hall. “IF WHAT I THINK IS HAPPENING IS HAPPENING, IT BETTER NOT BE!”

“Eughh boy,” Leo says. 

Looking as though he just saw his life flash before his eyes, Donnie shoves the phone at him and blurts, “You take it! You’re a convalescent, he can’t kill you! It would be against the Geneva Conventions!”

“Oh, I see, you want me to use my horribly mangled body as a meat shield between you and the consequences of your own actions.” Leo holds his hands up and open to avoid having any incriminating evidence forced into them. “Also, I think you skipped like six years of Social Studies.”

The infirmary doors slam open hard enough that one of Leo’s shelves of meticulously organized medical supplies rattles ominously. Mikey looms in the threshold, silhouetted against the light from the den. It’s appropriately intimidating.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Mikey’s eyes lower to the bright yellow phone in Donnie’s hands. It’s indie-film levels of drama. Leo is eating this up. 

Donnie whispers, “Oh, Hawking, I did not think this through.”

“When you die, who gets your laptop?” Leo whispers back. 

“I knew it!” Mikey shrieks. “You think S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. can keep a secret?? S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.?? You programmed him with all your own tells! I’m going to destroy everything you love!” 

The resulting cat-and-mouse chase around the infirmary is rowdy enough that it summons Raph, warm and fresh from the shower, dressed in his favorite huge pink hoodie. He catches Donnie on his way by and lifts him bodily out of the melee. Mikey is bloodthirsty enough that he scales Raph like a tree and their biggest brother is forced to hold Donnie out at arm’s length to keep the two of them apart.

“Woah, woah, hey—Jesus, what is happening?” Raphie says. His eyes dart to Leo, one dark and the other a pale milky pink, but it’s still the same look he’s given Leo a billion times before. The one that says loop me in. 

Leo searches under his pillow for the palm-sized knife he keeps there and focuses hard. Two little cyan portals open, maybe the size of dessert plates, one next to him and the other by Donnie, a neat little wrinkle in the dimension. He reaches through it and retrieves the phone. 

Pretending he doesn’t feel woozy after the brief use of ninpo well before he was technically allowed to use it again—because then he would have to admit that Draxum was right about something, and frankly he’d rather die—Leo waves the recovered goods at his brothers.

Mikey stops trying to kill Donnie and stares across the room with a very vulnerable, unhappy expression. Leo hates that, so he takes charge. 

“Just the Cain Instinct at work, Raphala,” Leo says, smiling. “How about you deliver Donnie to April for a lecture on respecting other people’s privacy, and I’ll talk to Mikey about the pros and cons of fratricide.”

“Pros and cons? What pros? You know what, nevermind,” Raph adds before Leo can answer, holding Donnie more comfortably in the crook of his arm as Mikey hops down from his shell. 

Donnie is dead-weight at this point, gone totally limp and accepting his fate. Since a lecture from April has a fifty-fifty chance of turning into a gossip session, Leo doesn’t feel bad for his twin at all. 

“And don’t think you're not in deep shit for that portal just now,” Raph says severely, pointing at him. “Yeah, Raph clocked that. No ninpo while you’re healing, Leon, or I’m telling pops.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leo says dismissively.

But Raph still comes over to rub his head, and Leo still leans into him when he does, because a little part of Leo is always going to be six years old with stars in his eyes, gazing up at his biggest brother like Raph could hold the whole sun in his hands if he wanted to.

When Raph has carted Donnie away, the infirmary is much quieter. Mikey slinks over to the bed ungraciously and invites himself right up, pressing into Leo’s side and hiding his face in a yellow-striped shoulder.

Leo passes him back his phone. Mikey tucks it against his plastron and doesn’t say anything.

“So the pros of fratricide would be that your stuff would get stolen way less,” Leo begins airily. 

With a huff, Mikey nudges him. 

“He showed me a picture, but we didn’t read any texts,” Leo adds, less playful. “As far as we know, you have a really good friend we just haven’t met yet.”

“Yeah,” his little brother says quietly. He presses his face harder into Leo’s shoulder. Leo works his arm out from in between them and wraps it around Mikey’s carapace instead. 

Tracing a familiar pattern between the scutes, he says, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

When Leo came out, a few years ago now, he was terrified. 

It was just another thing that made him difficult, that made him harder to love, that might cost him what little of his father’s good opinion he thought he had. He kept it a secret, tucked behind the armor of his plastron where no one but himself would ever see it.

But then one day, when he was fourteen, Leo found Raph in the living room, watching Youtube videos of the NYC Pride Parade with something young and hopeful on his face, only to slam the laptop shut when Splinter came in. Raph’s expression had twisted into something ashamed. Afraid. 

And Leo thought, Absolutely not.

So he came out to his family over dinner that same night. He said it like his hands weren’t sweaty and shaking beneath the table, like he hadn’t practiced the words and tone in the mirror for an hour beforehand. 

He couldn’t force himself to look at Splinter, twisting some spaghetti onto his fork and following his big announcement with something stupid, like, So I guess you could say the only straight I am’s a straight-up bitch. That way everyone would know it wasn’t serious, wasn’t a big deal, they could stop looking at him now please. 

Raph didn’t even get after Leo for saying the bitch word. He flew to his feet and rounded the table and scooped Leo up into a big bear hug. Well, Leo and Mikey, because Mikey was already attached to him at that point. Donnie said, “Gasp! This is my surprised face. Whoever could have anticipated this astonishing turn of events?” because he was an asshole. But he also reached over the table to put his garlic bread on Leo’s plate, because he was the absolute best. 

Leo’s heart didn’t stop racing for what felt like hours, even after his brothers squeezed him to death and made a bunch of noises about loving him no matter what, even after Splinter informed the table at large that his Baby Blue could start thinking about dating boys in another thirty years and not a minute sooner! 

But he did that for a reason. So his brothers had a lead to follow if they ever needed one. So they wouldn’t be scared like Leo constantly was.

And now the tension slowly leaks out of Mikey’s frame. 

“I know. I know,” he says, stronger the second time. “I guess I got all in my head about it. At first I wanted it to just be my thing, for me. I liked him but I wasn’t sure if he—you know. And then when he did, everything was perfect, and I didn’t want to mess it up.” He sits up enough that he can look at Leo, red-brown eyes earnest and wide. “Then the longer I didn’t say anything, the more impossible it felt to ever say anything. It’s not ‘cause I didn’t—”

“You don’t owe me or anybody else an explanation, Angie,” Leo says, tugging on the tails of his mask. “If you want to talk about him, I’m all-ears. If you want me to blackmail Donnie into forgetting he exists, I can do that, too. I’ve got the goods.”

Mikey smiles. It’s a relief to see. “I have no idea how you did it,” he says. “How you just told us like it was nothing. Told dad. I guess being his favorite probably helped.”

His WHAT?

Leo chokes on an incredulous laugh. He thumps his own chest, wheezing. Mikey rolls his eyes and slumps down again, gets comfy, a familiar weight under Leo’s arm. 

“Puh-lease, Lee. You two are like the same person, all the way down to the inherent self-worth issues and validation-seeking. Of course he’s going to feel complicated about loving a carbon-copy of himself when he hates himself so much.” After a moment, Mikey adds, “I think you help him feel better about who he is.”

Huh. Welp. Time to pack all of that up to think about later because otherwise Leo’s brain is going to explode.

“Nice attempt at distracting me, but I’m the master of misdirection.” Leo jostles Mikey, enough to make him whine stoooop. “If you think for one second you’re not everyone in the entire family’s favorite person, then there’s something deeply wrong with you,” he adds severely. “Junior has only been here for like five minutes and even he likes you best.”

Mikey’s grinning by the time he’s done. Leo can feel the shape of it against his arm. 

“It’s a gift,” the youngest Hamato says humbly. 

Identical chimes from the phone in Mikey’s hand and the one on the bedside table alert them to a new text in the Mad Dogz group chat. 

Bootyyyshaker9000 After an illuminating conversation, during which absolutely no robot sons were taken hostage to force my compliance, I have seen the error of my ways and will endeavor to change my behavior. I wanted to offer my sincerest apologies to Angelo for my invasion of his privacy. I am not making this statement under duress. YellowSubmarine Good enough for you, baby?

Mikey’s grin graduates with honors into a laugh, that charming, full-bodied thing that fills whatever room he happens to be in. He types a quick reply and the group chat goes crazy. Leo sort of just lays there and takes the moment in. 

In about an hour, it’ll be time for another round of medication, but Leo thinks—even though it’s sappy and saccharine and he would never, ever say it out loud—that this is medicine enough. 

“Sooo,” Leo says, “you gonna tell me about him?”

“Leo,” Mikey groans, but he’s still smiling. 

“Oh, come on, you have to give me something.”

“How ‘bout a trade?”

Aww, his baby brother knows how to barter. Leo is so proud.

“I’m listening,” he says.

“I’ll tell you about Woody,” Mikey offers, waving his phone around, “if you tell me about that bunny waiter from Run of the Mill who asked for your number.”

Leo would shoot upright if he had, like, a completely unbroken back. As it is he has to move a little slower. 

“What?? Why—how did you—I mean, who?” Nailed it.

“Raph overheard the entire thing,” Mikey says sweetly. “He thought it was cute so he told me since I was right there. You know he can’t handle cute without gushing about it to somebody.”

It’s Raph’s knee-jerk reaction, like cute-aggression; only instead of squeezing or biting, he has to overshare to the nearest available party, usually while choking back tears. 

Kneading his temples, Leo forces out, “Mm-hmm.” 

He can’t even be mad, though. It’s Raph. If Donnie had been the one to overhear, it’d be plastered on a billboard above Times Square by now. 

“Lemme have this one on Donnie,” Mikey says, and brings out the big guns, brown eyes all wide and liquid. “He always gets your secrets first.”

“Disaster twins privilege,” Leo replies, so he doesn’t have to think about the novel concept that his family could believe his secrets are worth anything. “Alright, Miguel. Since it’s to spite Dontron specifically, you have yourself a deal.”

Mikey whoop-whoops, with the arm and everything. It’s so stupid. And it makes Leo think, This Woody guy doesn’t know how lucky he is. 

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Ronin

The first time I watched Ronin I was sitting on a friend’s sofa down the road from where I was living with my parents. It was the early 00s. I was learning about movies from a fan of movies, seeing things I’d never seen before from someone I wasn’t good at being friends with. The second time I watched Ronin was last night.

1998 was a long, long time ago. 1998 was a time when people who grew up with the cold war in their lives were realising that maybe it was definitely over, and now, four years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, they had to come up with something else to do to justify all that spy stuff that was done. You know, all those listening programs and the manipulations and the lies and the counterprogramming and the language skills and peeing in weird places, like, that had to be for something, right?

Right?

Ronin is a 1998 sorta-spy movie, sorta-crime movie, mostly action movie made by people whose work I cannot meaningfully put in a good context but also had a script written by a guy people recognise called David Mamet. He wasn’t credited because, the trivia goes, there was a fight about it, and that makes it a thing to know about this movie, to show that you have done your time in the trivia mines.

The movie centres on a character named Sam, and is framed around the imagined story of the Samurai tradition of the Ronin. Sam is a former spy (maybe) doing crime work (maybe) for a non-state actor (maybe). He has to retrieve a case (or not) and it’s for this purpose or another. To describe the plot is to deflate it because this isn’t really a movie built around a plot as much as it is a movie built around a sequence of very tightly controlled events. Every single scene is setting up something for the next scene and there are very few times where something is set up in scene A only to fail to pay out until scene D.

It’s a movie that’s very well made, in that nothing feels to me like it’s out of place or weird or inappropriate. It is full of real-seeming things to me, creating a very tangible sense of excitement when you see a car plowing another card off the road. It even has a whole lady character in it, and her name isn’t something ridiculous like Vaginas O’Clock, which means that in the genre of spy action stories of the time, she’s doing okay!

Despite the way the movie feels really cool and like it’s perfectly put together, there’s something about it that nags at me. It’s that the opening uses title cards to explain what a Ronin is, in a German style script, and then the ending is narration, offered by a specific actor in their specific voice, relating to the experience of spending their time with another character in that movie. And… like, I can see why there’d be a challenge in making those two bookends the same, but not that hard of a challenge? As it is, it’s a movie introduced by one thing and concluded by another, for some reason I don’t understand. It’s a seam, it makes me think about why they couldn’t do this a better way.

Ronin is a type of movie that I used to think of as a Dad Movie in that it was the kind of movie a Dad would sit down to watch with glee knowing that broadly, sure, okay, there was violence in it if a kid walked in and saw it but it wasn’t going to involve having to explain anything to the kid that wasn’t a matter of degrees. If I was thirteen and my dad was watching this movie, I could probably (?) watch it with him, and he wouldn’t have to come up with an explanation for anything that made him uncomfortable to see me around.

It means that Ronin is a movie that largely is made up of sequences of people kicking ass and being cool, split into two halves where the first is a team coming together for an exciting heist and then the second half is where it’s all gone a bit wrong. Just describing what’s in Ronin is a kind of analysis itself; what someone notices in how they outline the movie versus what they choose to leave out presents something because this is a movie that is deliberately dense with information and sparse with explanation. Characters have relationships and backstory that are never explained because to the story that you’re getting here, in Ronin, it doesn’t matter at all.

And the whole thing is centrally about a bromance between two cool guys doing spy stuff! That’s fun!

I didn’t find anything in Ronin of a greater message, I think. It’s more like it’s archetypal; this is a movie about dudes, and rocking, and the way that dudes rocked, in that particular period of space and time. I mean it’s a well-made tersely directed movie created by people who are really good at making movies. You see, I say, waving my hand as if holding a vape, When Jean Reno, holds a gun, and he is sad, that, that is cinema.

Saying it like that feels as if it is to say that there’s nothing to Ronin is to imply that somehow what’s here is insubstantial. It’s not. It’s really cool, it’s extremely interesting and unmoored from most of its parameters, it’s got all these scenes of characters being really good at their jobs doing things that are cool, with style. If you’re familiar with the time and the space and the metaphor, you might be able to appreciate some subtly inferred and cleverly constructed meaning. To me, the meaning that’s there is the fantasy of an American spy successfully doing the thing that they supposedly do because they’re good at their jobs and they can get the results they want through the actions they commit.

All spy movies are fantasy movies.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[sdr2lovemail]

In which Enmu courts you in his own strange way

Demon Slayer brainrot is real. I now take requests for it. In the Halloween spirit I get to be a little morbid. (Fanfics can be a little toxic, as a treat)

Warnings!: Canon typical violence (someone gets eaten, not very descriptive), weird one sided relationship, Enmu being himself.

Wind whips around you. The metal of the top of the train is cool against your palms. You look around. There seemed to be no one there, but you could smell him. His scent is cutting through the air like burning incense. Your eyes lower in an attempt to see through the dense fog.

“Ah, you really came!” A whiny voice calls.

Your eyes widen in shock as you retract your claws. Just before it made contact, you noticed who stalked behind you.

“It’s okay. You can strike me. I would be quite honored.” Piercing teal eyes bore into yours. A red flush covers pale, lifeless cheeks. The thought of your claws drawing his blood made Enmu weak in the knees. Perhaps you’d even dine on the smooth skin of his neck. Fingers snapping in front of his face pulls him from his thoughts. His eyes focus back on your taller frame.

“Why did you call me here? Shouldn’t you be focusing on hunting those slayers? Lest you want to disappoint the Lord.” Your gaze practically pierced through his frame.

Enmu lets out a deceivingly innocent laugh. “Don’t be like that,” his hand reaches for yours but is quickly slapped away. “My plan for the demon slayers is already in motion. Can’t friends meet up and share a meal together?” He leans in closer to you. His eyes beamed with glee.

You glare at the shorter man. Your gaze is as cold as the metal beneath your feet. “I am not your friend. You’re wasting my time.” Once you turn to leave, an irresistible fragrance hits your nose.

The scent of fresh human blood. It was enough to make your mouth practically water. From seemingly out of nowhere, Enmu reveals a corpse.

“What a shame. I even went ahead and fetched us lunch. It’s no hashira, but this one certainly smells delicious.” A wicked smile crossed his pale lips. “There’s no way I would be able to finish all of this. It would be such a waste.”

You knew he was lying. Any demon would be able to devour a mere human. Though your hunger beat out your logical mind. Almost animalistic in action, you delve your fangs into the soft flesh. The skin was still faintly warm. Enmu must have killed them when you entered the train.

Blood splatters against your cheeks. There's a sickening squelch that echoes through the air after every bite. Tendons and muscles roughly pull away from the bone.

Kneeling near you, Enmu looks on in pure adoration. Even though you were higher in rank, you still took the time to accept his invitation. He loved everything about you.  Enmu practically worshiped the ground you walked on. If Muzan weren’t in the picture, he would’ve quickly sworn his loyalty to you.

“Once I’m done with the slayers,” He starts to speak. His pale hand reached to stroke your cheek. Too busy with eating, you barely recognize his touch. “I’ll give them to you. A grand feast suited for a demon like yourself.” Enmu sighed, relishing in the touch of your cold skin.

He peered at the human with a look of jealousy. He wondered how it would feel to be dined on by you. For you to drink the blood from his body. The tongue of his hand slithered out to lick the smeared blood off your face.

The sound of crunching bones filled your ears, your fist making contact with Enmu’s ribcage. His body flies to the other side of the train car. Standing to your full height, you begin to climb down the train, not sparing Enmu another glance. 

“Farewell, pest.” You practically spat. “Thanks for the meal.”

Coughing and wheezing, Enmu’s teary eyes follow your body. The pain in his ribs mixed with the warmth in his still heart. With a blush covering his cheeks, he giggled to himself like a schoolgirl with a crush. Perhaps one day, you’ll accept his devotion.

[dizzy-n-busy]

★ ANGEL TATTOO ★

Literally adore the hc that Angel has (biblically accurate) angel tattoo(s) 🔪🔪

David's first impression of Angel was in the in-n-out line 💪💪/j

{not exactly a cw but I give a description of Angel's fashion style - very early 2000's, bedazzled, short n' tastefully tacky clothes}

• • • ★ • • •

When David first saw Angel, he had seen their tattoo first.

He hadn't looked at it for long given it was displayed on their chest - which they kept very open and exposed - he switched his attention to their jewelry instead.

The gaudy playboy bunny emblem sat on their collar, tiny white diamond embellishments colored it in with pink ones shining the bow.

It was stacked amongst a few other smaller necklaces, some cuban links hung closer to their neck and the more dainty ones fell lower. All in silver.

The next he spotted was their clothes; a black oversized jacket fell off their shoulders and exposed a spaghetti strapped tank top with the bedazzled lettering of 'angel' and cartoon wings on either side of it with a little halo above it.

Their legs were left exposed by shorts - the short, pink and silky kind with even more bedazzled embellishments. Black platform shoes made them reach about jawline level to him.

After all the other accessories had been filed through did David take a curious, more indepth, look at their tattoo.

A closed eye sat between their chests pronounced shape with three wings spread on both sides of the eye; the middle ones expanding half way across their chest and the two on top and bottom were smaller, a small halo circled above the eye. It was framed by small sparkle-esque stars and a smirking face.

David jolted seeing their eyes suddenly on him. They bared their teeth at him in glee, eyes twinkling - clearly having caught him staring - giving him an up n' down and blatantly checking him out.

He felt his face heating up in embarrassment, he looked away quickly and ignored them for the remainder of his stay in the line. He felt them still staring at him when he ordered his take-out.

They seem like the exact opposite of an angel.

Needing a distraction as he waited, he opened his phone and leaned against a wall - a few texts from the pack's group chat kept him in line for a bit.

That tattoo though...

It fit them so well and was clear that they had more than one. He wondered how they handled it, especially given the detail in each wing, the faint shading and big scale.

The tall male groaned internally and bit at the corner of his lip, wondering why some random ass person he'd never seen before made him feel so - weird...

A few more minutes pass and David's food is finally called on. He makes quick work to pay and leave, shooting a quick text to the pack as he pushes past the doors.

David gave the person one last glance and saw them also, conveniently, stealing a look at him; cup in hand and straw stuck between pouted lips.

He saw them open their mouth and release the straw from their teeth, running their tongue across the underside of the top row. A smirk broadening on their face.

David rolled his eyes away and walked out completely, glaring forwards at his heart ramped up in speed.

What a fucking weirdo...

Cut to now, David laying across his fiance's chest - gently outlining their tattoo with the soft heave of their chest. A small mantra raced in head as he ran his finger across the worn ink.

Angel, angel, angel.

• • • ★ • • •