#if you are okay with them it’s okay it’s more personal so I won’t block anyone interacting with this ex moot unless something happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garoujo · 11 months

Note

saetoru is talking abt you on her private blog (@/clorindes) yuckkkkk

CW BULLYING, LITERALLY IMMATURE HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA, SUB POSTING.

hi nonnie, thank you for letting me know! since i’m leaving this blog & this platform for the foreseeable future i figured i might aswell get a few things off of my chest before i go. i apologise in advance for the vibes this post will probably bring, the discourse & the posts that will ofcourse follow, but i honestly i am not the first person to be targeted by this creator and i’m sure i won’t be the last considering the amount of creators that have been bullied off of this app by them.

first off i’ve had multiple blogs that would be considered bigger blogs such as @/hvnlydmn, @/atsymu + now this blog which is the biggest of all 3. i think there’s a sort of unspoken responsibility that comes with being a bigger blog which i know is no fun but it’s also because it can be super harmful on a site like this, when people weaponise their following.

on that note i’ll start this post by saying that i’ve known tee for probably around 3/4 years, maybe? we were mutuals on hvnlydmn & atsymu and we continued to talk on discord even when i was off of tumblr. i will honestly admit to this day i have never had a negative interaction with tee to my face and she was genuinely supportive of me during any discourse i was involved in. i am not some angel, i’ve had my fair share of crap on this app (of my own doing) but this post is not meant to come across like “oh she doesn’t like me so i’m calling her out” no. im sorry if this doesn’t line up with my brand and my ‘victim complex’ but i’m not gonna lie down and let someone on a power trip on a hobby app drag me through the mud.

first off i had began to get some off vibes from tee when i had started writing on garoujo, notably when i’d just hit my first milestone which was probably around 1k. during this i had decided to move my instagram theme from my main blog to my writing blog.

i’d noticed tee subposting (on main and on her personal blog which i followed at the time) about someone basically using the same theme as her, which after then clicking onto her blog i realised was an instagram theme. i didn’t think much of it, again me & tee were friends and she hadn’t came to me directly so ignored it. i was still a new blog and trying to solidly an aesthetic (before the beige lol) so i changed my theme / masterlists / layouts a lot.

a few more sub posts later i decided to message tee about it because with every thing i’d change / post on my blog, there always seemed to be another post. so i messaged her and got this response in: (i’ve blurred out my irl name btw) open up pics for convo!

so i let it slide, kept posting & that was that. probably a few days / a week later, tee had soft blocked me which then eventually led to me being hard blocked. i was upset ofcourse because i genuinely considered tee a good friend but i’ve always been a big advocate in controlling your space.

this was when, one of our mutuals in common (the first of many may i add) approached me on discord to say that just like now, i was being ripped to shreds on tee’s personal blog:

again i was notably upset about this because i was being accused of not only copying her theme but also her writing & masterlists, we did have a lot of mutuals in common so it was also upsetting knowing they would all be seeing these posts aswell. i allowed myself one sub post about “creating a narrative” because i was particularly frustrated but tee then also subposted about this, even though she had me blocked?

i would also like to say regarding our mutuals in common that this was not the first or last mutual to approach me regarding tee. i’ve had multiple people tell me that “they’re only mutuals with her because it would be more damaging not to be” “it’s easier to be on her side”. also i am not saying this is okay but i’ve had multiple of her current mutuals send me not only her posts, but screenshots of her private, personal instagram & also tell me about how all of them and their friends had a running joke / theory that tee made up her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) for attention.

regarding the accusations from tee i’d like to first comment on the instagram themes, again i had done an instagram theme on my main blog but it seemed to only be an issue when it was on my writing blog that was gaining traction. if the timing was off and it seemed like i copied her, i genuinely have nothing to say except it’s not the case— it’s instagram (which tee already admits she doesn’t own above) also the hanma writing? i’m still not 100% sure which drabbles she was referring to but i can only assume that 1. is when i posted a drabble about hanma fucking you outside of his subordinates house — this was a almost completely word by word rewrite of a suna drabble i done on my old blog @/atsymu i literally just changed the concept to fit tokyo revengers themes. i can post screenshots of this suna drabble also from my google docs dated February when i deactivated. the other one may have been some basic concept about him fucking you against the window.

she also mentions in the very first recent screenshot at the beginning of this post that i have apparently stolen concepts of fics / posts from her mutuals. what i want to say regarding this is, do you believe that i would have made it this far on stolen work? i don’t know any of the mutuals she’s referring to apart from 1 which i’ll get into. but every single accusation i’ve ever received has always come from someone associated or in contact with tee, she has always been at the root of it all but i have yet to receive a single anon or ask about me copying or taking inspiration from anyone’s work.

i know there was apparently a blog and an ex mutual of mine, who i had a lot of respect & time for who was under the impression i’d stolen their concept for this gojo fic. the whole premise of this fic is honestly not uncommon considering how many times people losing control of their techniques / powers / quirks during orgasm has been done in fanfiction. this concept was completely my own, i had originally posted shitposts about him losing control of his technique & also him putting you into a mating press / breeding before i’d decided to smoosh them together into a fic. we all read from the same workbook, we all have the same material to work off of — two people in a fanbase of THOUSANDS having a similar idea is not unheard of.

now onto the masterlist banners. the screenshot on the far left are the comparison photos that tee made herself— i’m sure you’ll be able to see them in better quality when she makes her own post about it; because obviously that’s going to come. first off i will say, i will admit i took inspiration from her official art masterlist banners — i thought hers looked good and i needed a masterlist so i used official art. fair game there although i only kept them for a few days before i changed again.

but onto the grey masterlist banners, i can honestly say i did not even know tee had this masterlist, also the only comparison i myself see is the colour. the only reason i chose grey was because i had started to use a grey / white overlay on my manga panels for my layout (as you can see far right), and as you know— i’ve always kept my colour scheme pretty consistent. on that note, regarding the actual layout of the masterlists— i’ve added screenshots from atsymu (that i could find due to it being deactivated) that shows the layout of my old masterlists, which was what i took inspiration from for my current. although the title font for each heading like headcanons is different, i had used the sort of old style, basic font that everyone uses before i had deactivated so it would match my fic headers i just don’t have photos obviously.

anyway on the back of this there was then discourse over me apparently copying tee’s kinktober masterlist, which again was not the case. but again due to tee’s following i had received multiple death threats into my asks the morning after i posted mine. as far as i was aware, the only similarities were the fact we both used gifs in our headers & the layout listing thirsts, hcs & fics (which is very common during kinktober but i admitted below i could see that similarity). unfortunately during all of this discourse was when ffflowers, my hate blog also came into the mix which then lead to tee reaching out to me in dm’s from her old blog.

the interaction between me & tee was pretty good, again she was nothing but nice to me directly despite the way she obviously spoke about me in private above. but as you can see below, tee herself told me that basically most of the similarities all made above were brushed off as basic. we spoke about the ig themes & i apologised, saying i could understand where she was coming from and that was that. i unblocked her & she unblocked me so i could reblog her post, it’s been that way since.

it is not my place to comment on other people’s experiences on this app but i would need more than 2 hands to list the amount of people that i’m sure have had similar if not worse experiences with tee. i know i have had multiple mutuals who have been bullied off of this platform & had their safe space ripped from them for little things such as: liking a character that this group selfship with, tee and her friends not liking their characterisation. they’ve even went as far as to go through other larger creators notes to check for minors so they can make excuses as to why they’re thriving.

i also know of a blog who was ‘blacklisted’ from tee & her mutuals as they self shipped with arataki itto at the time, one of tee’s friends also did, so they blacklisted this creator and had all of their mutuals block them for this which then in turn drove this creator off the app. there has been other notably bitchy things that i’ve heard but i have no receipts for therefore i don’t see any relevance in starting rumours.

i would also like to say i know plagiarism is a horrible thing, we have all been through it— myself included but it’s got to the point where being accused of copying tee has become a canon event. notably, bigger platforms have been ruined and driven off of this app for little things such as mdni dividers, similar colours schemes etc. and it’s the reason i’m also leaving.

i will say i have met some amazing people through my discourse with tee, notably people who have been in similar situations and i also apologise to any mutuals who we still have in common who are now sort of stuck inbetween. no hard feelings. although to tee: id be careful of the people you trust because it seems the loyalties they have to you are not as sincere as you may believe. you can also go to her personal & read the other things she was saying about me like how she was always so ? at how many people seemed to like me.

so that’s all i have to say, i’m sure dash will get a few responses from this but i’ll be logging out & turning off asks because honestly? couldnt care less. the only thing i’d change about my experience on this app would be i wish i’d blocked tee sooner.

i’d say have a nice day, but instead, have the day you deserve.

— emmie :)

#i apologise in advance to my mutuals & the innocents #i probably had more to say but yk i was rambling atp #anyways see u guys 🖤 love most of u !

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gojotojis · 4 months

Text

Butterfly pt. 1

part two

This story will contain sexual assault, I beg you not to read if it will trigger you.

summary: you’re spiraling after a traumatic sexual experience and the only person that sees it is your neighbor.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, drugs, ptsd, trauma, age gap, mentions of death/murder via movies

Note: this is actually so personal to me so pls be kind. this is a genuine depiction of my assault, this is me coping. I am in no way glorifying or romanticizing sexual assault, again this is my story. Writing is when I feel most safe and we are all strangers so I’m okay sharing this. Any hate, blame or criticism will be immediately blocked. Also virginity is a social construct.

April

You had been so eager to give away your virginity, and he seemed so nice. He knew all the right things to say, how to make you feel like he really liked you.

He said he was a virgin which made you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep with him. It started out as kissing which led to more.

You couldn’t help how nervous you were, frozen until he was flipping you onto your stomach. You became terrified when you felt him nudging at your back entrance.

“No,” you breathe, your heart hammered in your chest. You swatted at him but he forced your hands down.

“Please stop” you beg as you tried to squirm away, crying as you felt him pushing into you, tearing you open. You screamed, it was painful and he pulled away.

Your fingers swiped where he hurt you and blood coated them. You crawled away from him until you were grabbing your clothes and running away.

You’re traumatized, but it only worsens when you ignore him for days and he blows your phone up calling you a slut, ugly, fat and a whore.

He spams your phone with videos of him having sex with other girls, him telling you how you don’t compare and that he lied about being a virgin.

You feel like shit, and he pushes it further when he spams your Instagram and messages your friends, flirting with them and saying awful things about you.

You finally block him but the damage is done.

You loved reading more than anything but when a sex scene comes, you’re taken back to that night and the book is ruined.

You can still feel him forcing himself inside of you, it’s like it won’t stop. You cry in the shower, scrubbing your skin till it’s red and raw, hating yourself, blaming yourself for letting this happen.

For being so desperate that you gave something so intimate away to someone so awful.

You tell no one, too ashamed and disgusted with yourself .

Beginning of August

You climb up the stairs, AirPods on full volume with a Mitski song playing. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you hum to yourself.

You’re not paying attention, letting out a small ‘hmph’ when you collide with soemthing hard and fall to the floor on your butt. You’re embarrassed as you look up at the tall man looking down at you.

His hands outstretch to you as his mouth moves but you can’t hear anything over your AirPods. You spot his phone beside you, and grab it. You don’t take his hand as you stand up on your own but you do hand him his phone.

He’s peculiar to say the least, he’s always either wearing a black flindfold or sunglasses, today he’s wearing the blindfold. You have the urge to ask him why he wears it but that’s invasive and rude.

He moved in two months ago right across from you. He’s usually gone for days on end but when he is home, he’s always asking to borrow something from you whether it’s sugar, milk or eggs.

It’s slightly annoying but you’re too scared to tell him, you wonder if he’s ever heard of a grocery store.

His lips are still moving so you pull your AirPods out. “Huh?” You ask, furrowing your brows and lips parting

“Are you okay?” He asks and you nod staring up at him. You think he must be blind, literally and feel actually awful.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention,” you say and then it dawns on you, what if he doesn’t go to a grocery store because he can’t see. You start overthinking and guilt racks through you.

“It’s my fault really, what are you listening to?” he asks, you’re confused how he knows you’re listening to music but then again it was blasted. You hold your phone up to him and then internally slap yourself. “Mitski, it’s called I bet on losing dogs,” you explain and he nods.

“I love that song,” he says and your eyes widen, he doesn’t look like he listens to her.

“What’s your favorite song?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What’s yours?” He asks and you don’t know why that makes you laugh for the first time in months. “I bet on losing dogs,” you say.

“That’s my favorite too,” he says, and you wonder if he’s flirting with you. Part of you blushes but the other part of you panics. Does he just want to sleep with you and hurt you? You try to shove the thought down, he asked a simple question.

“I should get going” you say staring at your shoelaces.

“See you around y/n” he says before he’s walking off and you wonder how he knows your name, you never once shared it with him and he’s never shared his.

Mid August

Your head tips back, eyes rolling. The sound of music drowns out as you feel yourself nearly seizing from the red and purple strobe lights. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve blacked out, your mouth tastes disgusting and your throat burns. The cause of it, lying in a puddle on the floor.

You lift your head up, to try and comprehend your surroundings. The girl beside you leans down, holding a rolled up dollar and snorts the thin white line off the table.

She sniffs and turns to you, offering you the dollar, you vowed to never touch that shit but part of you wonders if it’ll make you feel good, the way the alcohol does.

Your brains screaming no, begging you to leave but your fingers grasp it and she dumps more onto the table. She lines it up with a credit card and you hesitantly lean down, you choke a little as you snort it and sniff.

You slump against the sofa and slowly feel it take its effect. Your body feels so fucking heavy, it’s like you’re wearing a meat suit. You lift your fingers up and watch as they multiply when you wiggle them around, the girl pulls you up and drags you to the dance floor.

You’re like a rag doll in her arms as she makes you dance. Your head tilts back staring at the ceiling and you laugh, it’s dark and intoxicated. The music suddenly feels amplified and you’re clutching your ears, so fucking overstimulated and you panic, feeling the bodies grinding against you.

Your eyes water when you feel hands grip your waist from behind and they press against you. You’re pulling away from them and stumbling through the crowd, fighting your way to the exit.

Fresh air hits your lungs the moment you step outside and you inhale, closing your eyes.

Home, you have to go home.

You ignore the several people that ask if you’re okay as you stumble down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

Relief fills you at the sight of your apartment building, once you reach it, you’re climbing the stairs until you miss a step and fall down. Your head smacks against the floor and little black spots cloud your vision.

“Fuck!” you hear, almost certain it’s your mind playing tricks on you until you feel large and warm hands gripping your face. Their touch is like electricity against your skin.

“Please let me die,” you mutter as a familiar blind folded face comes into view. He’s waving a finger infront of you and you go cross eyed.

“What did you take?” He tries to ask you but your hearing is muffled. His face is blurred but you can make out his lips moving.

You lift your arms up and reach for his face, your fingers graze over his lips and he stills. They’re soft and pink.

His hand gently grabs your wrist and moves your arm back down to your sides. His head tilts like he’s studying you as your vision slowly recovers along with your hearing.

“Can you hear me?” He asks and you nod weakly. He sighs before you feel his arm hook under your knees and the other around your back. He lifts you up and you shake against him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg, his brows furrow but he doesn’t say anything. You’re trembling as he walks you to his apartment. He’s gonna hurt you, he’s gonna trap you and hurt you.

You squirm in his hold until you’re out of his arms and sliding down the wall. You cover your face and pull your knees to your chest. His hand touches your knee and you scoot away. He immediately retracts it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise” he says as you peek between your fingers. His expression is so genuine, and concerned but he’s a man and you don’t trust them. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime trying to think as he lifts his pinky up.

“Please let me help you,” he says, his voice is soft as he kneels infront of you. Your shaky hand reaches toward his and your pinky wraps around his.

He smiles gently, and helps you up. He unlocks the door and guides you inside. You’re too fucked up to take in his apartment.

He pours a glass of water and hands it to you, before he’s handing you two pills of advil. Your pupils are dilated and you look so out of it, your breath reeks of vomit and vodka.

He’s not use to this, any of it. He’s never been in this situation and it’s frustrating because he wants to help you, he knows there’s an underlying reason why you shake and flinch from his touch. The way your eyes survey all exits and keep distance between you two.

Everytime he’s seen you in the halls, you’re listening to music in your own little world with your head down. You’re always shy, and timid.

“You can take my bed and I’ll take the floor,” he says not wanting to leave you alone incase you have a concussion.

Your throat tightens at the idea of sleeping in his bed, at falling unconscious where he can so easily hurt you but you’re tired, so fucking tired.

You hug yourself as you attempt to walk into the only bedroom in the apartment. You slowly climb into the bed, curling into a ball. He watches you from the doorframe, trying to make sense of what his eyes can’t tell him.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

September

You sigh, sifting through your purse for your keys. You push through several empty travel bottles of vodka and tampons, coming up empty. You hear two things behind you, keys jingling and a meow.

You turn around, one hand is holding your keys while the other has a black kitten pressed against his chest. You only care about the kitten at this point, you look up at him and he’s smiling at you.

“You dropped your keys,” he says but you’re itching to touch the fur ball in his arms.

“What’s it’s name?” You whisper not wanting to scare it.

“Dunno, just found him outside,”he says and you slowly reach out, petting the baby. It’s little mouth let’s out the most broken meow but it’s fierce and you smile.

“Are you gonna keep it?” You ask and he shakes his head making you frown. He walks toward his door and starts unlocking it.

“I can’t, I work too much” he says, opening his door. He walks inside, leaving the door open. You awkwardly stand there before peeking inside. You feel embarrassed about the events from two weeks ago, you’ve avoided him since. You can’t imagine what he must think of you.

You slowly walk inside, fingers clutching the ends of your oversized sweater anxiously. He sets the little guy on the floor and you immediately shut the door not wanting him to runaway.

“He’s gonna need formula,” you say, carefully dropping to your knees. You pull your hair from its ponytail and fling the tie across the floor. You giggle watching the cat dart after it.

You feel his eyes on you as absurd as it may sound considering the blind fold but you do. His lips twitch as he watches you play with the kitten.

“What’s your name?” you ask, something that’s been on your mind lately.

“Satoru, Satoru Gojo,” he says and you hum. It’s pretty.

“Thank you, for the other night. I’m sorry I kind of lost it on you,” you say, watching the cat run at you as your hand drags across the floor like a spider before it tickles him. His little feet kick at your wrist but it’s like a feather hitting you.

“That happen often?” He asks.

“No” you lie, admittedly you usually stop before you get super fucked up and you hadn’t touched coke till then. He doesn’t push and you’re grateful for it.

“So what’s the song of the day?” He asks and your brows furrow, arms chasing after the cat who starts running sideways.

“You must have another song you like,” he says shrugging.

“K. by Cigarettes After Sex, let me guess. That’s your favorite song of theirs too,” you say and he smiles.

“It’s like you’re stalking me,” he says and you laugh, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard, more so than the little creature that’s clawing his way up your thighs. His claws hooking into your jeans, determined to get you.

“Favorite album?”He asks and you indulge him.

“That’s hard, there’s so many,” you say, pulling the cat off before he can claw up your sweater.

“Top five,” he says making it slightly easier for you.

“Brand new eyes by paramore, all lana del rey albums, Trilogy by The Weeknd, anything FKA twigs and Wiped out by the neighborhood. You?” You ask and he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom.

“I don’t listen to music,” he says and your face scrunches, musics your love language and your safety net. It speaks and conveys what you can’t.

“Not one song?” And he shakes his head. His life must be so lonely and boring, you frown.

“I did listen to that Mistki song though, depressing much?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Well, yes but that’s what makes it so good,” you say and he doesn’t argue. You wish you could see his eyes, eyes speak a thousand words.

“Favorite movie?” He asks, this is sadly the most anyone’s ever asked about you, you feel guilty that part of you is living for this attention.

“Bones and All, Suspiria, Django Unchained, Dune and Pearl,” you say.

“I’m seeing a pattern here,” he says and you raise a brow. “You don’t listen to music but you watch movies? And what may that be?” You ask. The little voice in the back of your head is begging you to go home, he’s only doing this to get in your pants, why else.

“Nah but one of my students seen some of them, I’ve heard all about Pearl and her axe,” he says, watching the kitten swat your hair tie around.

“She’s just a girl,”you shrug, and his lips tug into a smirk. You don’t like the feeling that takes over, the butterflies that swarm your stomach. Handsome doesn’t do him justice, he’s beautiful even when you can’t see his eyes. From his undercut to his jaw, and his tall lanky stature, he carries himself like he’s the highest predator up the food chain. It’s not threatening, it’s…sexy.

“I forgot American Psycho” you add and his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline before he’s bursting into laughter.

“What? It’s hilarious satire and Christian Bale is…hot,” you say. He wants to ask you a question but thinks better of it, this is the most you’ve ever spoke and he doesn’t want it to end.

“Are you a teacher?” you ask, lingering on what he said moments ago.

“Yeah, you?” he asks. You dropped out of college, feeling too stupid and incompetent, in all honesty you’ve never seen a future for yourself and it feels embarrassing.

“Bookstore,” you say.

“So you like books?” he asks and you give him a look that screams ‘duh’.

“I do, I’d tell you my favorite book but you probably already know it since it’s yours too,” you say as the kitten comes running at you. You gently slide him across the floor and he runs back, loving it.

“Guilty, but you should probably tell me just incase we aren’t on the same page,” he says, you hate the smiles he keeps making appear on your face.

“Normal People”you say, you wonder why he wants to know all these things and what they matter to him.

“It’s like we’re the same person,” he says, you wonder if this works on the girls. You don’t want it to work on you.

“He looks like a Salem,” you say looking at the black cat that’s just obsessed with you.

“I think he’s found his mom,” Gojo says and you want to argue against it but you don’t because he’s right, you’re keeping him.

End of September

You sit on the couch with Salem curled in your lap and a bowl of popcorn beside you, you’re ready to start the movie until someone’s knocking on your door. You feel your anxiety fester but push it down.

You carry the kitten as you walk to the door and look through the peep hole. Your breathing hitches at the sight of Gojo in sunglasses, you swear he hasn’t been home in two weeks but like he said he’s always working.

Now that you think of it, that’s so odd. He’s a teacher who’s never home and works odd hours. You try not to overthink it as you open the door.

Gojo beams at you and the little guy in your arms. He reaches out and starts scratching underneath Salems little chin which sends him into a purring fit.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I was gonna watch a movie,” you say looking back at the lit tv screen, but you remember he can’t see.

“Pearl?” He asks and you’re slightly eager to put it on for him. Your life is lonely, you’ve stopped talking to everyone. Your bestfriend pushed you away months ago and nobodies really cared to see that you’re okay. Your mom and grandma constantly call but you can only take so much criticism.

You try to contemplate the pros and cons. Gojos been nothing but nice, he’s slightly funny and because of him you have Salem. Cons: he’s flirty and a man. Your stomach stirs, and your body tenses as you open your mouth.

“Would you like to watch it with me?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander off to that dark place in your head.

“Okay,” he says and you step back, letting him enter your dim apartment. He takes his shoes off and looks around, taking in the hues of greens, browns and white along with the various plants that take up space.

There’s a picture of you as a little girl with two other kids that look just like you, a boy and girl on the wall, some family photos, graduation picture and baby pictures. You were so adorable, still are.

Your place is a contrast to his. His is fairly empty with a few hints of grey, white and navy.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch as you put on Pearl, Salem leaves you to cuddle in Gojos lap. Traitor.

“Song of the day?” he asks before you start the movie.

“Good to love by FKA twigs” you say and hit play.

You usually hate when someone talks during a movie but you’re desperately wanting to know his thoughts during every scene. He laughs through most of it,

“Did she really just set her mom on fire and then leave to go have sex?” He asks, you bite your lip. “She’s just a girl,” you say and he shakes his head. You reach into the bowl for popcorn and feel his fingers graze yours, his touch is like static and you get goosebumps. You pull away as subtly as possible, you hope you don’t give off the wrong message by all of this.

“She’s deranged,” he says as she stabs the projectionist with a pitchfork repeatedly.

“Christ, who gave this girl an alligator,”he says when Pearl pushes the man’s car into a pond and an alligator eats at his remains.

By the time the movies over, he’s leaving. He says he has to work in the morning but he types away at his phone before handing it to you, your names written on a contact, waiting for your number.

You try to hide your surprise and hesitantly type your number in.

October

Gojo: song?

you: Haunted by Beyonce

Gojo: starting to think you’re working for the government

you: how so

Gojo: only a fed would know all my favorite songs

you: you sound crazier than pearl

Gojo: utterly insane

You enjoy Gojo’s company, still hesitant but he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him.

Mid October

You hum to The Party and the After Party by The Weeknd, sending a link to Gojo as you walk.

You: song of the century

Read at 8:08pm

You’ve been crafting a playlist for him, you’re embarrassed by it though, what if he thinks it’s lame. You title it ‘Peals Greatest Hits’ and make the cover a picture of pearl with a pitchfork, you think he’ll laugh at that.

It’s nice having a friend again.

You wait for Gojo to respond but he doesn’t, he’s probably busy. This time he’s been gone for three days and you don’t question it. You’ve managed to learn little things about him, he’s told you about his students Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara.

He even raves about his students from last year, Toge, Yuta, Maki and a student he simply calls P, you tried to ask what the P stands for and he said Pedro which you laughed, kind of an uncommon name here but you don’t push it.

He’s mentioned his family and the pressure they’ve put on him, how he’s like the golden child of his family.

He actually laughed when you asked if he was blind, your cheeks heated up as he told you he has really bad sensitivity with his eyes which still made you feel bad for him.

You reach your building and start your walk upstairs, eager to see your cat but stop when you reach the top. You’re not sure why it bothers you when you see Gojo with a woman going inside his apartment. She’s pretty, sharp features and glossy eyes. A mole under her right eye. You wait for them to go inside before you make your way to your apartment.

Maybe you’re a creep but you stare through the peephole for what feels like hours, waiting for her to leave but she never does. You wonder if Gojo has a girlfriend, wouldn’t he have mentioned it? But then again he’s a man, when do they ever.

End of October: Halloween

You try not to feel insecure in your pink tights and red bodysuit, this is the most revealing you’ve looked since before that night.

You watch as a row of lemon drop shots line up infront of you, the girls you’ve made friends with since you came in, all cheer and clap as you knock back shot after shot. You order six more courtesy of your blonde friends tab, the bar tenders hesitant but you bat your lashes and just like that you’re getting your way.

The liquor helps to take away from the insecurities, you stop worrying if your stomachs too big or your arms too bulky and relax. Several hands pull you to the dance floor and you dance with them, one of the girls hands you a blunt and you smoke it. You spend the night smoking and drinking till you’re absolutely fucking cross faded.

Once you’re at your apartment building, you’re literally crawling up the stairs. You stop when two sets of shoes come into your view, you slowly look up to Gojo and the woman from two weeks ago looking down at you.

“Should we call someone?” The woman asks.

“Nah, she’s mine,” Gojo says pulling you up off the floor. You stumble backwards but he catches you before you fall, pulling you toward him.

“I’ll see you later” the woman says, walking off and he nods. He’s scooping you up into his arms.

“What are you suppose to be?” He asks.

“Scarwit bitch” you slur and he laughs.

“Scarlett Witch?” He asks and you nod.

You’re disappointed when he takes your keys and opens your apartment door. He carries you to your bedroom.

“What did you do, rob Barbie?” he asks looking around your pink room, you’re too tired to comment as he sets you down on your bed.

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Thanks Toru,” you whisper.

November

Gojo: you hungry?

You: yes…

Gojo: what do you want to eat?

You: pizza, meat lovers and Hawaiian.

Gojo: pineapple on pizza? we have to find a dealbreaker eventually

Gojo: in or out?

You: in

Half an hour passes and there’s a knock on your door. You open it to Gojo with two boxes of pizza, he sets them down while you grab plates.

“song?” He asks, he hasn’t missed a day and you don’t know that he’s made a playlist with each one you give him.

“Kimdracula by deftones,” he subtly adds the song to his playlist as you open up the box. Your belly rumbles as you take a slice of each.

He wastes no time, eating while you take little nibbles. You don’t like eating infront of people, not after being so degraded on your body by the only person that’s seen it naked. Your appetite sours and you set your pizza down.

“Do want to watch X? It’s the technical sequel to Pearl,” you say, he couldn’t give a shit about that deranged girl but you like her so he likes her.

He nods and you wash the pizza grease from your hands, he does the same and you both are moving to the couch. Salem jumps up, of course he picks Gojo as you shuffle through your movie selection before clicking on X.

You feel your face redden forgetting they’re literal fucking pornstars filming porn.

“She looks exactly like Pearl, what the fuck,” he says and you laugh.

You subtly look away, during the sex scenes. They aren’t unbearable but it’s just uncomfortable for you.

“Like sixty years later and she’s still creepy as shit” he says when it gets to the scene of Pearl staring over Maxine while she sleeps.

Gojo actually leans forward pushing his sunglasses up, utterly engrossed in the movie as everyone starts getting killed off one by one. He cringes at Lorraine’s death which you do too. And he cheers when Maxine runs over Pearls head.

“You can have Pearl, Maxine’s mine” he says making you roll your eyes.

“Guess you’ll be happy to know Maxine has her own movie coming out next year” you say.

“Oh we’re so seeing that,” he says and you internally smile but that little voice in the back of your head reminds you, he’s just a man.

You try to ignore it but you feel inclined to ask, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He asks with his brows raised.

You actually feel silly asking the question, because how are you supposed to casually mention the girl you’ve seen him with without sounding like a stalker.

“Just asking,” you say innocently.

“Nah, I never have the time for that stuff. Ive been on dates but that’s about it,” he says and you can’t help that words that blurt out.

“So you’re a virgin?” you internally slap yourself once the words leave your lips.

“No” he says laughing at how hard you’re blushing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive” you say and he shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he’s hesitant to ask but he does.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks and tears roll down your cheeks.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #lucygojo #gojo fluff #fluff #angst

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spncvr · 7 months

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waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses.

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her.

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it, “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

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sublimetragedychopshop · 1 year

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Player yandere!!

Player! Yan being a hoe all throughout their life. Their amazing good looks and trust fund money makes people not think twice before jumping into bed with them. Thinking they are special because “oh my god this is how our love story starts! Their in love with me!🥰” only for them to either be shoved a plan b in their hands the next morning, shoved out of their flat and blocked on all social media. If that person even tries to confront yan the next day, yan just goes “do I know you?” With the straightest face ever. Like they are an ASSHOLE when it comes to people who are in love with them. They have never been in love before and everytime someone gets upset at them or curses them, they just shrug it off as another Tuesday. “Fuck you!!when you fall in love, I hope they stomp on your heart and light it on fire!” Another wounded soul that was the victim of their shenanigans exclaimed.

They just laugh and move on with their day. Them? In love?? Not gonna happen sweetheart. People fall in love with THEM not the other way around.

Until they meet their darling. Of course theirs always that “special someone” usually displayed as the innocent pure person. But that isn’t how my stories go. Idgaf darling that is just trying to scrape by in life. They know, that yan is an entitled asshole and proceed to stay away from them. Shouldn’t have been hard right? Wrong. They made the mistake of telling yan to “get lost” when yan tried to talk up their friend. Of course some hostility towards them is kind of common but usually from their ex playthings. They play innocent wondering if you were a past lay, while trying to chummy up to you.

At first it was a joke, them seeking you out just to play innocent infront of you. Flirting as a joke, just to rile you up or make you blush (too bad you just look at them with a dead inside look) in fact they started considering you their newest exciting game. See how long until you fall.

Unexpectedly you stood strong, any advance they tried to make, you blocked it, any sweet moment they calculated, you dodged it, any ‘special’ connection they tried to formulate just pushed you away even further. It was driving them crazy, but their selfish pride never let them walk away. And despite everything you never cussed them out, chased them out or showed anger to them. It almost made them think of you as some sociopath.

After some time they started thinking about you. All.the.time. Scenarios on how to make you blush. Daydreams of how you would look when you crumbled under them. Strategies to take up more of your time. Until they began dreaming of you. Fun thing about dreams they usually mean underlying feelings in a person. Sweet dreams of you, usually you smiling at them or being happy. They feel so light in the dreams, so fuzzy. Craving them when their gone or you giving them your usual dead look. They don’t take it seriously at first, of course they began dreaming about you, they almost see you everyday! Then the nerves started showing up, hesitation. Whenever they tried to make a sly move before, they did so confidently. Now they do it, and you look at them with those uninterested eyes, and suddenly they have to look away. A small pink hue flooding their face.

Is it normal to hate people that come close to you? Before others looked at THEM with jealousy. Now they glare at anyone that is buddy buddy with you. These low life’s seeing you smile and laugh. While THEY barely get a glance. It’s unbelievable. No they aren’t jealous! They probably have a good reason for this feeling!

God, their friends see them acting weird and confront them about it. “Dude are you okay? I get that this person is like your ‘conquest’ or whatever but your taking this too seriously.” “So what? I’m not a quitter. Or do you think that they are capable of resisting me!?” They exclaim. “Nah! I just mean-don’t take them so seriously! How about we go to a party with a bunch of hot chicks/dudes. They won’t know.” It made them think. At first a bitter taste of disgust hit them until they buried it. ‘Yeah, tons of better broads are willing to open their legs after just a glance. I just need to get back in the game.’ So they go, a random party full of drunk people. It’s where they feel most comfortable. But something doesn’t feel right? It’s almost like they are waiting, waiting for something. Someone. They can’t help but turn around when a voice similar to yours starts talking. Can’t help but look around when a jacket that looks like yours is found. They do it on accident until someone points it out, and they get mad. Enraged.

It seemed to be a tipping point because they have never got that drunk before. Pulling someone they don’t even know into a room with them. Kissing, groping until the start the deed. At first it feels good, so good. They feel like they got high for the first time again. Until this random stranger starts sounding like you. Their drunk mind filling the gaps. Suddenly the stranger doesn’t just sound like you, it looks like you. They moan and groan and god does it sound so good. They couldn’t help themselves, stupidly they moaned your name. The other person seemed to not hear it the first couple of times, until yan starts screaming it as they cum. Suddenly they get smacked in the face and get left by themselves on the bed.

It was a wake up call, a moment of realization. Hours passed by in a flash because of their drunk mind. Only thing they could think about now was you. They were in love. IN. LOVE. With you, of all people. Thinking that they could NEVER experience this sensation, it was a gut punch. Small chuckles left their lips, soon it turned into an explosive laughter! As they clutched their heart, beating- demanding to leave their chest and run to you, they knew that you owned them now. Belonging to you and only you. Just needing to let you understand that is all that is left…

(Hope my writing is getting better! This was an old draft that I just decided I NEEDED to post. Mainly cuz I’m still working on a part 2 on my self deprecating yandere Drabble! Sorry my brain is out of juice is all 😭)

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere shitpost #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere ramblings #yandere scenarios #yande.re #player yandere #this SO OLD

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leahsgirl · 8 months

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blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso community #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england lionesses #lionesses #lw6

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kagscore · 8 months

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𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys

feat. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin note. this is self indulgent because i wanna play league with nagi i fear ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა i hope you enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing rocket league with 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 looks like . . .

the two of you sitting in his bedroom, you curled up in his lap as you hold the controller. he holds your hands with his, moving the controller and pressing the buttons for you so you can get a grasp of the movements you need to know. slowly but surely, he lets you take full control and quietly cheers for you as you score goals and block them in his favorite game—car soccer. he's almost brimming with excitement at the idea of teaching you all sorts of tricks—flip resets, [insert other terminology]—anything so that eventually the two of you can play duos together and dominate the game. shows you how to decorate your car, the types of cars you can get and laughing when you ask if you could just drive a vw beetle instead. gets himself a second remote to play on his xbox when he thinks you’re finally starting to get the game and trying to cheer you up when you lose your first game duo’d together.

“you sure you wanna keep playing? i know it isn’t the easiest thing in the world…” “i think it’s so cute you wanna get good at this game baby, of course we can play when you come over again.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing league of legends with 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 looks like . . .

nagi absolutely tossing you in headfirst into aram, knowing that you won’t get kills or assists and will die a lot but absolutely sweating his balls off so that he can still carry you to a win. you ask a lot of questions about who you’re playing, who you’re playing against, your abilities and ultimates and just generally what to do and him answering every single question you ask with patience and a soft explanation. sometimes you do questionable things in game, but he just laughs and says it’s okay. congratulates when you finally figure out who you want to main, celebrates when you get your first kill, and even buys you that skin you want as a gift for taking the time to play a game with him and spend time with him. always rerolls his character in aram, trying to find someone you like and getting a bit teary eyed when you recognize his favorite character to play once.

“it’s your favorite character, babe, swap me for them.” “i know you’re new, but please stop dying to tower. i’ll even take us out for dinner, i’m begging.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing valorant with 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 looks like . . .

rin trying his hardest every game you play together to be the top frag to impress you subtly, and him avenging you every time you die because how could he let his person die without killing the person that killed you? drops you his gun skins and even switches them when you guys wait in queue to skins you prefer—if he doesn’t have the skin you like, he always gives it to you when he finds and kills the person with it in a game. goes into deathmatches to one v. one you to try and help you learn the mechanics of the game and the shooting. if anyone is rude to you in a game, he’s immediately cursing and hexing their family and generational lineage in his head/in chat. he doesn’t like talking in game, but will if it means defending you against everyone else being mean because you’re bottom fragging. buys you your first skin after you get your first kill and periodically logging into your account to buy you more and surprise you sometimes.

“you should try a duelist if you want to get more kills, my love.” “now we just need to get you an ace, and we can do something special.”

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 8 months

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hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine.

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool.

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn.

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed.

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time.

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting. Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.”

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie.

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom.

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,”

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs.

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again.

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand.

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time.

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance.

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here.

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand.

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8.

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.”

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

#and then eddie realizes wtf steve is wearing and promptly goes feral #i'm not sure about this one gents /gn #i think it's fun but also like it's a whole long ramble where nothing happens 🙃#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #he's a runner he's a track star #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #meet cute #meet ugly?#pre-canon #pre-season 3 #steddie but make it s3 #noelle writes

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bangchansgirlsblog · 9 months

Note

Hello I love your writing so much

Could I please request for 9th member reader who didn't come from the healthiest families and she's very sensitive, keeps to herself when the boys ask her about it. However once she and chan get into an argument about her coping mechanisms and in his anger he gives her the silent treatment (for about a week?) And finally she break down in front of one of the other members, telling them about how her mother would always give her the silent treatment and she was never encouraged to express herself etc... and the boys all comfort her?

Thank you so much!!

Toxic traits.

Warning: Angst, crying, panic attack, mean Chan

Summary: as requested ^

Pairing: reader x Ot8

“Y/n?” The voice sounded like it was distant. She could barely hear but how could she? The painful ring in her ear blocked out everything around her.

“Y/n? You okay?” Hyunjin asked her again trying to get her out of her trance.

“Yeah-yeah,” her voice is caught in a crack. The hot feeling of tears starts to build up. “I’m fine, where are the rest of the boys?” She cleared her throat and put her bag down.

“They went to get some coffee, I told them I would wait here for you. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked one last time to be certain. He could sense her vibe was off but yet again it was Y/n. She was the most mysterious yet energetic person you could come across. Oh? And she’s the youngest.

“Yes I’m fine Hyun, we should head for practice. We don’t want to keep the boys waiting,” she gave him another comforting smile before grabbing her bag once again and making their way to the JYP building.

The walk was quiet. Her thoughts were currently running haywire as she tried to peace everything together but she knew today wasn’t going to be a good day. The argument she had with her father still played in her head.

“So, what do you have in your schedules today?” Hyunjin interrupted her thoughts trying to ease the tension in the air.

“I just have dance practice with you guys then I get a break and you?”

“I have a photo shoot later after practice, kinda cliché themed.” Y/n giggle at this. Hyunjin gave himself a pat on the back for making her laugh.

“Well, I hope stay don’t make fun of you because that’ll be more memes coming out,”

“Yeah, yeah, as long as I rock the outfit no one can bring me down,” he flexed his biceps earning a gag sound from the manknae.

“Hyunjin that’s gross,” she rolled her eyes as they both entered the studio to find the boys stretching. They all said their “hello’s” and started their practice off.

“Y/n get your head in the game,” Leeknow scolded her. She had been messing up a lot today and now that they were halfway through, she hadn’t gotten anything done causing the whole group to get lost.

“I’m trying okay?” She snapped back at him. Han’s neck snapped in their direction as he looked at her in disbelief.

“Don’t snap at him like that, his older than you,” Han joined in the scolding. Y/n was tired and frustrated now. She couldn’t deal with them hopping on her back.

“Okay whatever,” she walked away from the both of them and sat on the floor by her bag trying to look for her water bottle. The boys were looking at her from a far trying to figure what was bothering her today.

“Hey Y/n?” I.N finally gave in and sat besides her to check in.

“Yes I.N?” She replied in her soft tone.

“You okay? You’ve been messing up all day-“

That was all she needed. That little push to throw her off the edge. Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and she stood up still facing I.N. Her anger was at a 10 and she couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I’m fine okay?! What is wrong with all of you?! Don’t you see I’m trying?! Can’t you leave me alone for once?! Why does it seem like whatever I do is a problem-“

“Y/n. Out. Now.” Chan’s loud voice shook the room quite literally. She stormed off to stand outside by the door. Trying to keep her cool but she couldn’t.

“Don’t you see this is a waste of time? You’re a girl! You won’t survive in this industry!”

“But dad I- the boys got me. We’re making it-“

“Those boys will soon leave you just like your mum did. You’re pathetic and a waste of space. You don’t even bring anything to the table!” Her father’s voice was loud through the phone.

“Why won’t you let me to what I want for once?” She begged.

“Because! I spent my whole life working my butt off to provide for you and now look at you? You’ve basically become a stripper”

“Dad don’t say that-“

“Well it’s the truth.”

Her father’s words echoed in her ears. She felt helpless. She felt useless. She felt disgusted by herself.

“What was that?” Chan storms out the room. He was angry. It was obvious.

“Nothing-“

“What is wrong with you? What’s your problem? You’ve been so moody all day and whenever we ask you what’s wrong cause we know damn well we didn’t do anything wrong, you start acting bratty,”

“Chan I was just trying to-“

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You will go in there and apologize. Understood?”

“Chan! You never listen to me. Your always taking their side,” she snapped at him.

“I know damn well you aren’t taking to me like that. I’ve given you time and time again to come talk to me but you crush it off and decide to be a bitch to everyone. So don’t even say I don’t listen to you-“

“I’m not being a bitch, I just want to be alone,”

“Okay then be alone. Stop bringing everyone down just cause you can’t deal with you problems, you better go apologize to everyone and you can head home,” the tears in her eyes started to fall once he left.

Maybe she indeed was the problem. Maybe she needed to learn a way to cope with her feelings. Maybe she just needed to shut up.

She slowly took steps back into the studio and everyone turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry if I snapped at any of you, I won’t do it again,” her sobs were heard. They were so painful to hear that even Chan was so close to stopping her and pulling her into a hug. He felt so bad but he knew he had to stand on business.

At first Chan thought that maybe her silent treatment would last a day or two but it dragged and it continued to drag till it was the 1 week stamp.

He grew worried because he wasn’t not just talking to him but she wasn’t talking at all. She would only say hello and then continue with her day. Not even talking to managers or staff.

She would just nod or say small” thanks you’s” or “goodbyes”. It was almost like the fight he had with her shut her up completely and this was eating him up.

The stress of the VMA’s performance coming up and having to deal with his members made everything 10x harder to cope with.

“She hasn’t been eating,” Changbin informs Chan who lets out a frustrated sigh. “Should I just talk to her? Maybe that’ll fix things,”

“She’s so mad, she won’t talk to anyone. Even I.N,” this caused Han and Changbin to gasp.

“They’re like bestfriends, it’s like they were never separated at birth. What do you mean he won’t talk to her?” Han asked.

“He came to me in tears yesterday because he attempted to get her to talk but she shut him down immediately,”

“Then you’re going to have to fix this Chan. She needs you even though she hasn’t said it. Maybe it’s something deeper than your fight,”

“I know that for certain Hyunjin but how can I talk to her when she keeps avoiding me and walking away,”

“Just go to the gardens,” Felix suggested.

Chan hadn’t thought about it and quickly gave a hug to Felix who he praised for a bit and run to the gardens.

There she was. Sat feeding ducklings. She had a soft smile on her face. Her cheekbones were becoming visible because of the lack of food and the stress of the shows coming up.

“Y/n?” He said while making his way to her. She remained still and quiet. Continuing to feed the ducks.

“Can we talk please?” Silence. “Look I’m sorry. I’m getting worried and you not being able to talk to me means that there’s something deeper going on. Can you talk to me please? I’ll shut up and listen.”

“My dad,” she sat up and looked over to him. Chan in disbelief after hearing her voice after so long. “My dad wants me to go back home,”

“What? What? He can’t do that. We’re a team. We’re your family,”

“I never told you about him because of how toxic he is Chan, he won’t leave me alone until I’m home. Where he can control me.”

“But your legal and you’re on a contract-“

“He doesn’t care Chan,” she looked up at him. The tears in her eyes started to pour like rain. Chan’s eyes soften as he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

“I won’t let him take you. Over my dead body.” Was all he said as she continued to sob.

“I’m so scared. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you Oppa,”

“Shhhh. It’s okay my love. It’s fine. You did now.”

He continued to comfort her until she could calm down. A constant apology left her mouth. Chan didn’t want an apology he just wanted to protect her and he knew the only way he could talk to her was if she had calmed down.

“Have you eaten?” He asked her knowing the answer. He just didn’t want to make it seem like he was tracking her consumption.

“I’m not hungry,” her face was squashed against his chest making the words come out a little muffled.

“You are. You’ve lost so much weight. Let’s go buy you some ramen and we can talk okay? How does that sound?”

“That’s okay Chan. I’m ready to talk.”

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not-so-casualenjoyer · 3 months

Text

Simon (trying to be) casual about the mask

By that I don’t mean he’d take it off whenever you asked. Of course not. You have to have very, very special privileges to see his face, and even each of the 141 members practically had to pry it off him once he agreed to let them see.

Simon’s mask is what makes him Ghost. It’s what makes him able to slip into work mode. It’s what holds him together when he needs it and what lets him block out everything else and pretend it’s never happened. The mask allows Simon to assume another identity.

He puts it on at night after his nightmares, when he feels like the world is crumbling down around him. It holds everything together, making sure his scars won’t tear apart at the seams, letting him find reprieve in his second skin.

The mask is an essential, immovable part of who Simon is. Who Ghost is. And he doesn’t take that thing off for just anyone.

Simon is an intimidating, bloodsoaked, unadmittedly sad, broken man. All these things, coupled with lesions on emotions beat into him by his father, make for a not so smooth approach to communication.

By which I mean, almost none at all.

Which isn’t a fault of his own. He likes to shove everything down, and almost nobody he knows is willing to risk his temper enough to dredge it back up again. So he gets to keep it locked away in a tight little bottle. He’s never had to express himself, communicate with another person, explain the reasoning behind his sometimes irrational actions (and he is not willing to admit it may be akin to the fact that he doesn’t quite know why he does them himself sometimes).

But when you came around, it jolted his entire world.

You, little firecracker you, who doesn’t flinch when he glares or snaps and pushes him to explain until he wants to scream his tar-soaked lungs out in newfound frustration.

You’re so different. You don’t fear his wrath. You meet it with a firm hand and a possibly more stubborn attitude. The team has never seen someone who can go head to head with Simon, and they don’t think they’ve ever seen him get so irritated either.

You push him until he snaps, spitting his reasoning and thoughts to you, explaining with a growled “I don’t know, okay?!” when you push him too far. You bend him on topics that make him itch until he breaks, and then you soften. You lower your voice, sweeten your tone, comfort him with words that make his stomach churn with how kind they are, and drag each word of explanation and processing out of him with coaxing gentleness.

You learn more about him than he intends over time.

You learn about the scars that cut through him–his mind, his heart, sometimes his flesh body. Sometimes when you look at him, he thinks you can see them, the slashes and cuts that mangle his body. His gnarled heart, his twisted mind.

That doesn’t scare him the way it would if it were anybody else. It doesn’t scare him because no matter what he shows you, you always come back. You always learn more, and you always show him that syrupy, worried look whenever he bears a new mark to you, physical or not.

So he wonders, in spite of himself, what would you think of his face? His cleft lip, his scarred cheek, his cut brow? What would you think of his eternally crooked nose, his drawn brows?

He hopes the scars on his face won’t stop you from giving him that sweet look, because none of his scars have before.

Simon isn’t quite sure how to integrate his bare face into the equation.

He wishes he didn’t have to go through all the muss and fuss, could just take it off with no overdramatic theatrics. He just wants to rip the bandaid off as quickly as possible.

So, that’s what he does. Saunters into the rec room one day while it’s just you, completely maskless.

He casually walks to the kitchen counter (despite how he thinks he might be having a heart attack from how hard his heart is beating against his ribcage) to make some tea.

You glance over your shoulder when you notice his presence, and–

“...Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget your mask?”

He turns the knob on the stove to light a fire under the kettle.

“No,” He grunts.

You blink at him, speechless, for lack of a better word, trying to process this situation and the face in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, seeing it all come together. Those familiar eyes, the glance of jaw and lip, his light brows, furrowed down. Now connected with the rest of his face, a crooked nose and a gnarled cheek, lines in his forehead from scowling so much.

“What?” He mutters from his spot at the counter, seeing how you’ve twisted around to stare at him over the back of the couch.

“Nothing,” You say quickly, turning back to your phone with a grin.

a/n: haha hey guys sorry i fell off the face of the earth! i do that sometimes ANYWAYS gonna try to write some more 😭 i have little thing in the works rn but it takes me at least three days to start writing literally anything beyond a base idea so

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minniesmutt · 7 months

Text

♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

♱ ━━━ CONTENT: INDIRECT MENTIONS OF MURDER, GUN MENTIONS, THREATS ON READERS LIFE, MENTION OF PROSTITUTES, STD MENTIONS, NON-SEXUAL NUDITY, FINGERING, EXHIBITIONISM/VOUYERISM, QUICKIE, PROTECTED SEX ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.6K ♱ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ♱ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

“So, I fucked a mafia boss?”

“More or less,” Changbin replied

“That’s kinda hot,” Y/n shrugged

“Congrats Chan, you didn’t scare her off,” Seungmin gave the leader a thumbs-up

“Can I get an explanation on the ‘Chan’ part? That’s the thing throwing me off.”

“Did you tell you his name was Chris?” Felix asked

“That’s what Changbin and I heard last night, or, early this morning?” Jisung stated

“That’s embarrassing, damn.” Y/n sighed

“I can kick them out still,” Chan told her, praying she’d tell him too

“No, I want more of an explanation.” Y/n was persistent, that was for sure. Felix took to explaining the current situation; alias’, how they all met, fell into crime and violence together, etc. Leaving out what they actually had done and what they did every day. The club front and mentioned a few others they had because eight people running one club were suspicious.

“Wow, okay that’s a lot,” Y/n sighed, taking in the information she had just given

“Chan,” Changbin said

“Yeah. You guys get to work.” The words left his lips and the seven guys made their way out of the penthouse, leaving the two. Chan sighed and turned from where he stood next to the counter to stand between her thighs, hands pressing against the cold counter. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

“I didn’t plan to tell you any of this,” Chan brought one hand up to hold her chin between his thumb and pointer finger

“Is this the part where you tell me I can’t go back to my regular life? That I know too much?” Y/n was half joking. She’d read a couple of mafia lover books before, if they were anything like real life, she could guess what was coming.

“You either stay with us or we make you disappear.” The look in his eyes was serious. Y/n just smiled at him.

“You know, normal people don’t smile when their life is on the line,” Chan notified her

“Well, guess I’m not normal then. You’re stuck with me.”

“Y/n, please tell me you’ve thought this through.”

“What? Stay with a hot gang leader who’s very sweet and has some funny friends who are equally as attractive or die?”

“You’d be giving up you’re whole life, friends and all, princess. We can’t risk you running to the police.”

“Chrissy, babe. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not entirely right in the head. I don’t think a sane person would be as calm as I am about this whole thing. I swear I won’t go to the police or tell my friends about this. Most they will know if you’re a club owner and ask for free drinks. Do you want me to make a blood oath to you or something?”

“No, you don’t need to go that far. It’s… It’s a lot more than me.”

His head dropped as well as his hand. Laying on her thigh, “You wouldn’t be the first person we’ve brought into this. It usually doesn’t end well when they agree to stay.”

“Hey,” Y/n grabbed his face and made him look at her, “What aren't you telling me?”

“Besides that, my friends are just as smitten with you as I am, if you stay with us you are going to get caught up in everything.”

“That seems like a given. But I think eight hot men are good bodyguards.”

“Just how fucked is that pretty little head of yours?”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out soon,” Y/n pulled him in for a kiss.

Chan laughed a bit as he kissed her back, gripping her hips, and pulled her closer to the ledge of the counter. Y/n pressed her torso up against his bare chest, hands wandering down to his shoulders and gripping his biceps. “You sure you wanna stay?” Chan pulled away from her lips.

“Yes, Chris. Now stop worrying and fuck me again.”

Chan smiled, “You know, the guys are gonna want you too, right?” he leaned in and kissed down her neck

“I don’t mind getting passed around,” Y/n chuckled, “But can you share?”

“I can,” Chan answered, snaking and hand from her hips to under his shirt.

He pushed his finger between her folds and let his thumb slowly run circles along her clit. Y/n laid her head back on the cabinet behind her as he pushed two fingers inside of her, slowly pumping them in and out of her.

“Fuck Chrissy.”

“Love when you call me that,” His voice was muffled against her neck.

“Chan! Do you not have you’re fucking phone on you!” Minho’s voice rang

Chan sighed, not once even stopping his ministrations on her, “What is it now?”

“Felix got into the cameras at the docs. A bunch of lower-grade thugs go—” Minho walked into the kitchen, “Before I go further, what are we doing with her?”

“She’s staying with us,” Chan didn’t miss the smirk on his friend’s face.

“Well, lower-grade thugs got their hands on some bigger-grade guns and ballistics—” Minho explained the situation but Y/n wasn’t paying much attention as Chan slipped a third finger into her and pressed harder on her clit. Chan’s attention wasn’t even on her anymore, he was fully involved in his conversation with Minho. She bit her lower lip to keep her moans at bay.

“Don’t be quiet on the count of me kitten,” Minho stated, smirk returning to his face.

Her eyes flickered over to the other man. The moment she caught his gaze, she clenched around Chan’s fingers. Minho’s eyes drifted across her body as he continued speaking with Chan. Eyes lingering just a tad too long on her exposed thighs.

“Find the guys and call me, I’ll handle it from there.”

“You going to have your phone on you this time?”

“Yes, now go.”

Minho smiled, leaving the two of them. Chan turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. His lips went back to her neck while his fingers picked up the pace inside her.

“You like being watched when you’re getting fucked,” Chan chuckled

“Don’t know what you mean.” His fingers left her seconds later, making her whine

“I felt you clamp around my fingers when Minho walked in. Don’t play dumb,” Chan pulled himself out of his pants.

“I could say the same for you. You didn’t stop fingering me when you were talking to him,” Y/n added as he opened a drawer and rummaged around before pulling out a condom, “Do you just conveniently keep condoms in your kitchen?”

“You never know where you’re gonna fuck, might as well be prepared,” Chan smiled as he tore open the wrapper, rolling the rubber onto his cock

“Thought you didn’t bring others home.”

“Princess, we’ve all used prostitutes before,” Chan explained as he pulled her down from the counter, turning her around so his back was against his chest.

Before she could even comment, Chan pushed into her in one fell swoop. Y/n let a high-pitched moan fall from their throat as leaned forward, putting her hands on the counter in front of her. Chan smiled, holding onto her hips and leaning forward, “So pretty,” he whispered against her neck

He pulled back and thrusted back into her, not at a slow pace but also not at a fast pace. His lips left kisses along her neck, hands traveling away from her hips and pushing the t-shirt up.

“Faster,” Y/n groaned as his hands groped her breasts.

“Not yet princess,” Chan chuckled and his fingers tweaked her nipples

Y/n gripped the marbled counter as her head hung low, deep shallow breaths falling from her lips, slightly pushing herself back onto him, meeting his steady thrusts.

“Trying to fuck yourself on me, Princess?” Chan gave her one rough thrust that stopped all thoughts in her head

Chan was quick to learn last night the effect he might have had on her. Now he was certain of it and it made him smile.

He stood straight behind her and grabbed her hips again. He pulled back to the tip and quickly and roughly fucked back into her. Laughing at the curses that fell from her mouth. One hand moved down from her hips to rub her clit. The bit of pressure made her walls clamp around him and the knot in her stomach tightened faster between his thrusts and his fingers.

Chan’s thrusts were making it hard for her to do— let alone think of —anything. Hands slipping from the counter a bit, taking Chan’s notice. He moved his other hand up from her hip up to the column of her throat. He had a loser hold there as he pulled her back against his chest. Y/n grabbed onto his arm to ground herself, just a little.

“Even prettier like this,” Chan chuckled before she came undone on his cock. Chan thrusted up a few more times before coming in the condom.

Both caught their breaths before Chan pulled out and tossed the condom in the garbage. Y/n leaned against the counter before she was scooped up into his arms and carried back into the large bedroom.

“Don’t forget your phone or Minho will kill you,” Y/n giggled as he brought her into the bathroom

“I’d like to see him try,” Chan replied. He set her down on the counter before turning on the facet in the tub. Chan stepped out momentarily and came back with both their phones.

“Oh shit. Where was mine?” Y/n asked

“On the floor in your bag by my bed,” Chan answered

“Didn’t know I dropped it last night. Whoops,” Y/n grabbed her barely alive phone to check her messages

“We were both busy,” Chan smiled as he kissed her neck before going back to fix the bath for them.

Karina: Im so fucking pissed. That dick was terrible last night and now I’m hungover as fuck Seana: I’m assuming none of us came last night then Karina: probably not Y/n? Did you go home with anyone last night

It was pretty obvious that her two friends she was hanging out with had just gotten home. “Am I allowed to tell my friends I fucked the club owner?” Y/n asked

“As long as that’s all you say,” Chan replied

Y/n smiled at him.

Y/n: I did! Seana: oh bitch. who? Y/n: the owner 🤭

Chan came up and stood between her legs and watched her screen

Karina: no way! I don’t even think the employees have seen the owner. How do you know the guy wasn’t lying? Seana: someone’s jealous 🙄 Karina: im just saying. it’s unlikely

“Karina seems like a bitch,” Chan noted

“She’s been worse.” Y/n sighed

Y/n: If this penthouse is anything to the money that club brings in 👀 Seana: YOU’RE STILL THERE Y/n: He knows how to make a girl cum and I didn’t have to tell him to put a condom on. fuck yes I’m still here Karina: damn. didn’t wanna go raw 🙄 Seana: that’s why you have an std, dumbass Karina: UNCALLED FOR??? Y/n: gtg. talk later 😉 Seana: have fun babe 😉 Karina: does he have friends?

“I stand by my previous statement,” Chan said as Y/n set her phone to the side

“Yeah. I just keep her around for entertainment at this point.”

“Bath’s ready Princess.” Chan slid his hands under the t-shirt she had on

“Join me?” Y/n asked, hands wandering down to his sweats

“Of course,” Chan slipped the shirt off and tossed it to the ground. Y/n pushed his pants down before he took over. Y/n hopped off the counter and Chan guided her over to the tub.

He got in first and laid back against the porcelain as she got in and laid against his chest. His arms wrapped around her body.

“How do you feel about working in the club?” Chan asked after a few moments

“Gonna make me a bottle service girl?” Y/n chuckled

“No. People talk, I need you to listen. You’ll have a front job in management as well. You’re here, I might as well put you to use,” Chan explained

“Being you’re fuck toy isn’t a job?”

“You’re human, princess. Not a doll for us to play with whenever we want.”

“What exactly would I be doing for all of you then? You mentioned the others wanting me.”

“We haven’t explicitly talked about it, but from the way they were looking at you earlier, I figured they’d all taken a bit of an interest in you. If I’m correct and they are, you’d be shared between all of us. In return, we’ll provide you with everything you need.”

“Like a sugar baby? That’s what this sounds like to me.”

“Whatever you want to call it love. But, you’ll also be an informant for us. Men don't talk to us but give them a pretty face offering a drink and they’ll spill anything.”

“But don’t sleep with the enemy? Come back to each of you every night?”

“Hm. Not every night. I’ll provide you with your own place in the building, we’ll all have free reign to your place as well, but you’ll have the same to our places as well. Some may be a bit more clingy than others so beware.”

“Do you own the building too?”

“Yes. It is usually the eight of us that just live here, but now,” Chan leaned down and kissed her shoulder, “You’ll be here.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Chan smiled, kissing up her neck before his phone rang. Chan got up from the tub and stepped out. He made his way over to the counter and picked up his phone. “Hello?”

Y/n enjoyed the warm water, sinking lower. Relaxing her muscles from all they’d been through last night and this morning.

“Alright. Get over to mine to watch Y/n, I’ll head down there.”

Her head popped up at the mention of her name. “Where are you going?”

“Work. Minho and Jisung are coming down to take care of you until I get back. I’m sure Minho will give you some more details on the arrangement,” Chan grabbed a towel to dry off and walked out of the room to get dressed, “I’ll have them take you to your place to pack up what you need. I should be done by the time you get back to have your new place set up,” Chan called from inside the room

“Alrighty,” Y/n spoke, washing herself off. Chan brought in a clean t-shirt for her and cleaned up the clothes on the floor before he kissed the top of her head, “I won’t be long princess.”

“Have fun,” Y/n replied. Chan patted the top of her head as he walked out of the bathroom. He sent a text to his two friends telling them to take her to pack her things. He made a quick stop in his closet again to grab his gun from its safe.

He made sure it was locked again before he left his room. Minho and Jisung walked in from the elevator.

“She’s still washing up,” Chan told them as he headed to the elevator.

“Got it, boss,” Jisung said

“I told her about the arrangement as well.”

Both the men smiled at the mention. They could have some fun with this.

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