#authentic even as disturbing as it was | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delirious-donna · 5 months

Text

The Mistakes We Make [Part Eight]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento has come to some startling conclusions and works to put his decisions into practice. Finding the apartment empty whilst a storm rages outside tests his restraint to the limit. It'll be fine, right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, take the title as it's own warning cause I don't want to spoil everything

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Part Nine

The following morning was overcast. Heavy grey rain clouds dominated the sky, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. A breezy wind blew through the city, buffeting off the panoramic windows and carrying debris from the streets so far below up to whip against the glass. Despite the gloomy conditions, your mood was surprisingly bright and dare you say, positive.

Sipping your coffee, the miserable weather was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, your head was full of possibilities and thoughts of the immediate future. The second you woke up to find yourself tucked up in bed, still fully dressed but snuggled beneath the duvet, you knew exactly how you must have ended up here. Kento carried you to bed.

Kento Nanami put you to bed with care. He didn’t leave you to sleep in an awkward position out on the couch, no. That man—that annoyingly endearing man—had lifted you carefully enough not to even disturb your slumber and carried you to bed. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t make any sense.

He likes you. You like him. It was obvious, and if the realistic snapshots of your dreams held any authenticity, maybe he had kissed your head and murmured soft sentiments to you. That part was wishful thinking but not outside the realms of plausibility given how real the dream-like moments felt when you examined them closely.

It made you smile into your mug, lost in thoughts of what to say or do when Kento finally appeared from his room. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and frowned. It was later than you expected and there was still no sign of the man that was always up bright and early. Maybe he had decided to sleep in for once, and of course, he would pick the day that you wanted to see him most to indulge in more hours of sleep.

By noon you were worried. The apartment had long fallen silent, the music you had played earlier turned off so you could try to listen for signs of life from your host. There were none to speak of. Closer and closer you crept to his closed door until your ear was pressed against the solid oak. You couldn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets or footsteps to suggest he was getting dressed. No sounds of faint snoring or the distant noise of a running shower.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You knocked once, quietly.

There was no answer. So, you knocked again, this time far louder and you followed it up by calling out loudly. “Kento, are you in there? Is…” you searched for the right words. “Is everything alright? I’m starting to worry.”

Again, there was no reply. This was getting ridiculous, and your annoyance at not knowing what was going on got the better of you. The door opened whilst you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the floor just in case you were about to walk in on him half-dressed or worse… naked. However, the bedroom was empty.

The bed was neatly made, nothing appeared out of place from the time when you had last nosed about in here. It felt like forever ago but in reality, it wasn’t that long. You stuck your head around the corner, glancing into the walk-in closet and finding it equally empty. The bathroom was next, and once again you knocked before entering to find it empty and like it hadn’t been used in at least a few hours.

Had he left before you even woke up? It was the only thing you could think of since a thorough search of the entire apartment turned up no missing blond man. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did. He was a grown-up, he could come and go as he pleased. Yet, you expected that he might have left a note or something to let you know where he was and when he would be back, or was that assuming too much?

In the end, you did your best not to let it sour your mood. Kento was a free man, perhaps he had errands to run, and he would be right back with groceries in hand, you simply didn’t know. You had your own agenda today, and one you were excited to get to. It had been on your mind for several days now, knowing that your time here with Kento was ending, you wanted to buy him a gift to show your gratitude for his allowing you to stay here when he didn’t have to.

A few ideas were running through your mind as to what would be most appreciated, and the sooner you hit the stores, the sooner you hoped to come to a final decision. You wanted it to be special, something that he wouldn’t think to buy for himself. Were you putting a lot of stock in this gift? Maybe… but it was how you showed your lo—appreciation. Love was too strong a sentiment, or so you tried to reason.

You hastily scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen island. The front door locked behind you, whilst the elevator took you down to the lobby for the battle against the elements to commence.

Gone out. Be back later! Hope you’re having a good day. X

Everything was silent when he returned home. Kento wasn’t sure what he expected, and what he would prefer, but somehow it wasn’t as relieving as he expected, to walk into a noiseless space. How quickly his appreciations had changed.

He saw the note almost immediately, not bothering to pick it up since the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety. His finger did somehow find its way to touching the small flourish of a kiss, and he scowled upon realisation. He hadn’t spent the day clearing his head and mentally running through every outcome he could foresee just to return straight back to square one. His mind was made up. Giving up everything he had built for himself was pure insanity. End of discussion.

A powerful gust of wind pounded against the windows, drawing his attention to the weather conditions he had driven through, and his frown deepened. Kento stepped towards the glass, eyes scanning the barely visible streets below and the tiny moving umbrellas which appeared like dancing circles as people navigated around each other.

Did you have an umbrella with you?

Were you out in the elements or tucked up somewhere safe and cozy like a small café?

What was so important that you had ventured out on such a horrible day in the first place?

It didn’t matter. It was none of his business, and he should stop thinking about it.

Picking up a random book from his overstuffed shelves fit to bursting with books he wanted to read but had never had the time for, he didn’t even glance at the title before he was settling himself in the farthest part of the couch. Sure, it was the seat that let him both keep an eye on the front door and allow him a view of the worsening weather, but he refused to acknowledge that fact.

Three hours passed and Kento could recall exactly nothing of the pages he’d dutifully turned in his book. He read the lines of text but none of them stuck no matter how many times he repeated the action. Frustration burned hotter the longer he tried until he threw it down on the arm of the couch and turned worried eyes towards the now storm raging outside. Where the hell were you?

It had never dawned on him to exchange numbers with you, there hadn’t seemed to be a point since you were occupying the same space, but now he saw the idiocy of such a small oversight. He was halfway towards his phone on the kitchen island to call Karin and have her send through your contact info when the door suddenly burst open.

A small puddle surrounded your feet, every inch of you soaked right through and shivering. Your hair was plastered across your face, obscuring your eyes which didn’t help you wrestle with the half-folded-down umbrella in your hand. Several of the metal spindles were broken or sticking up at odd angles from the winds and Kento reached for you before you even realised he was there.

“Shit! You’re soaking wet. Where the hell have you been?” Kento thundered, his tone refusing to diffuse even when you squeaked in alarm and almost stumbled backwards.

His hand wrapped around your elbow was the only thing keeping you on your feet. The umbrella was wrenched from your grasp, a startled yelp only further fuelling the snarled expression you could make out between the messy strands of your hair. You could feel the fury ripple outward from his body and into your own. What the fuck...?

Kento disappeared. One moment you were being firmly pulled into the living area by his strong hands and the next he had let you go and rounded the corner, out of sight. Shaking from the cold that continued to penetrate your clothes, the chill all the worse now you weren’t running on the adrenaline of battling for your life on the streets far below, you were bamboozled by his demeanour. The warmth of the apartment was apparent, but until you could strip off every layer of sodden clothing and soak your bones in a warm shower or bath, your teeth would chatter, and your limbs would shudder.

Suddenly, you remembered to check the package, which was tucked securely inside your bag, grateful for your forethought to wrap the box in several plastic bags before placing it inside. It was unscathed and you exhaled a sigh of relief. The gift was far from inexpensive, something you would never have bought yourself and yet, you happily dropped a not insufficient amount of money on the man who returned to you with a large fluffy white towel in hand and a scowl etched across his face.

He took the bag from your grasp before you could protest, setting it on the kitchen stool and leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. With your hair now a little less wet and back into some semblance of submission, you could see how terse his expression was and it caused you to frown in reaction. What was the problem?

“Thanks. I’m definitely going to need a hot shower after the day I’ve had,” you conceded with a chuckle. It was your attempt at an olive branch, hoping that he would drop the bad attitude he was wearing like a cloak.

Kento scowled harder. “Why were you out in a storm in the first place?” He was trying to calm the ire that was eating him alive, unsure where the heart of his anger truly came from, or at least, not willing to admit its source.

“Shopping.”

“Shopping,” he parroted back. “You risked your life to go shopping? Are you that stupid?”

You recoiled. The words landed directly against your chest. An anger of your own beginning to bubble like water brought to a rapid boil. It was funny how fast you forgot about the steady drip of water creating a large pool around your feet, nor did you feel the cold as acutely.

“Excuse me?”

Kento pushed off from where he was leaning, gesticulating towards the evident storm raging outside. Sheets of heavy rain blown by the howling wind lashed the glass as if to prove his point and you seethed at him, hands curling in and out fists by your sides.

“You heard me. What could be so important that you would risk your life in conditions like these?”

You stalked closer, fury pounding in your veins enough to make your blood sing with molten heat. “You were out in it too!” You yelled, barely drawing breath between words. “Unless you’ve got some hidden room in this apartment that I’m not aware of. At least I had the decency to leave a note.”

He scoffed, turning from you to increase the distance between you both but you weren’t done.

“You could have been laying sprawled out, in need of help for all I knew! I was worried that—”

“That is different,” he countered whilst a broad hand ran roughly through his hair. The usually neatly parted blond hair was ruffled as if he had already worked his fingers through it whilst you were out. “I was safely in a car, not traipsing around the fucking city with only an umbrella for protection.”

This man. This perfectly outrageous, infuriating man. Oh, he was doing his damnedest to push every one of your buttons. You weren’t some stupid little girl that needed protecting or coddling.

“And what does it matter to you? You’re not my fucking brother, Kento! At the end of the day, we’re nothing to each other!”

Shit, that hurt. The regret was immediate; tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to blur your vision and you’d be damned if you were going to let him see them fall. Withdraw. You needed space, to pull back from this stupid, meaningless argument. Except it wasn’t meaningless.

You made to move past his hulking frame that filled the way to the hall and the solace of your room, but two strong hands shot out to prevent you from running. His grip shook, fingers curled around your shoulders as he pulled you to him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Kento looked downright furious; his lips curled back from his teeth with a snarl and his eyes snapped fire. The raging inferno of a wildfire—uncontrolled and dangerous—shone in those intelligent brown depths.

“Oh no, you don’t get to walk away, not now. Do you honestly think a brother would be this worried… shit… that they would get this angry about you being in danger? I don’t think so. You’re an intelligent woman, you know this kind of reaction is reserved for something far more intimate than that.”

His words stole the remaining air from your lungs, you were held in a vacuum with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your eyes bounced between his, certain you hadn’t just heard what he said. It had to be all in your head, your traitorous brain implanting false declarations, but… no. He did say that. He had worried about your safety, and not because of some arbitrary sense of obligation. This man who you wanted to yell at some more. This man who you wanted to do nothing more than shut up with a kiss.

“Wh—”

The world stopped turning. Everything felt frozen in place as your lips found his and the relief was immediate. The starchy material of his shirt felt alien against your fingers, not that you were even sure when they had fisted into it in the first place. Kento crushed you to his chest, forcing you to step onto your tiptoes to continue the assault. His hands found your waist at the same time you curled an arm around his neck. The taste of coffee erupted on your tongue, bitter but sweetened by warm honey notes that felt indulgent.

This moment felt forever in the making, all the missed opportunities and miscommunications seeming inconsequential now that you had him where you wanted him. You could drown in this man. The flames of your anger continued to flicker in the periphery; he wouldn’t get off this easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about his earlier hurled words when his tongue was pushing past the seam of your lips. He was a combination of sweet and salty, leading the dance with a gentle dominance that suited him perfectly. Kento’s hands were careful, considered in how he held you, whilst he let his tongue curl over your teeth and stroke over your own. You were kindling in his hands, soaked to the bone yet you felt not an inch of the cold penetrating your skin. Kento would set you ablaze and you’d let him.

Your eyes hooded then finally closed, the shock of how you had both lunged in the same breath was long over and now you were simply a mass of sensations, lost to your desires and happily so. Your fingers inched towards the rough undercut at his nape only to be ripped away, shattering the cocoon of warmth in an instant. It felt like a punch to the gut, gasping like a fish out of water and you blinked in alarm.

You could only watch whilst Kento shook his head in resignation, his face lowered so as not to look you in the eye and the scratchy feeling in your throat returned tenfold. The hands that only seconds ago tenderly explored your waist now imprisoned your wrists, preventing you from touching him any longer.

“I can’t… we can’t do this,” he said whilst the bottom of your stomach fell out. How dare he pull you into that claim without your consent.

“No! You mean you can’t do this. I want this, I want you, Kento. You’re the one pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length,” you half screamed back. The tears were falling fast, hot splashes against your cheeks and you hated yourself for it.

“It won’t work. I—I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could make it work and I can’t.”

Goddamn him. Didn’t he realise that it wasn’t a puzzle to solve, it wasn’t a project to manage? It should be a venture started together; he should be able to lean on you as much as you could depend on him. He was a fucking coward. The seams of your heart were being ripped open and he spoke words of reason, of logic, like those were the only things to consider. Couldn’t he see how much he was hurting you?

“Coward.”

He didn’t try to stop you when you pulled free, turning on your heel to snatch up a plastic-wrapped lump from your bag. You shoved it into his chest with force, resulting in a grunt of surprise at your unexpected strength.

Kento could barely look as you barged past him to run down the hall. The door of your room slammed shut with an air of finality that churned his stomach into a mass of thorn-tipped vines. He despised the hurt that was etched across your face, the tears streaking your cheeks and the complete betrayal dulling your usually sparkling eyes. You were right; he was a coward.

How long he stood there, staring down an empty hallway whilst the rain lashed and the winds howled, he didn’t know. Eventually, he glanced at the package in his hands and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out a gift-wrapped box from the layers of plastic bags protecting it from the elements, a golden bow adorned it, and he smiled despite the pain. With careful fingers, the bow pulled loose, and the paper unwrapped to reveal an expensive camera.

Kento scrubbed a palm down his face, eyes slowly shuttering at the gift he would have never considered for himself, but which was perfect. He hadn’t given you nearly enough credit, you were so wonderfully compassionate and understanding, and he had fucked everything up. He knew in his rational mind that it shouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t, not if you worked at it and were both willing to compromise.

Should he…

You needed time after what he had done. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he knocked on your door right now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this right. Things would look better in the morning, he had to hope that there were enough remnants of what had been there before to repair the damage. Kento touched his fingertips to his lips, he could still feel yours against him and what he wouldn’t give for one more taste. One more smile. One more playful tease at his expense. One more secret glance that tightened his chest.

“Fucking coward.”

The storm had passed by the next morning, leaving behind a beautiful cloudless sky and the dawn chorus of chirping birds. Kento woke with a start and immediately winced at the streams of sunlight filling his bedroom. He sat up with a grimace, holding his pounding head in his hands and looking down to find himself still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A crystal-cut tumbler half-filled with amber liquor sat on his nightstand and he recalled having drunk several very full glasses to find the embrace of sleep. It had refused to come to him without the alcohol numbing his emotions and he was only glad he hadn’t done something stupid in his drunken stupor like trying to speak to you. That wouldn’t have gone over well, that much he knew.

Speaking of you, he recounted hearing sniffling noises during the darkest part of the night, but he couldn’t tell if they were yours or if his conscience was torturing him. He wouldn’t put it past him, the midnight hours had been spent berating his stupidity and warring with the voice in the back of his head that continued to chirp that this was for the best.

After he straightened himself out, washing his face and changing into a clean outfit, he went in search of coffee and hoped to find you in the kitchen with your morning cup. Instead, what he found was an apartment that was eerily quiet, even more so than when he returned home yesterday. Each footstep filled him with rising dread, the icy prickle of unease at his neck and no amount of scratching would relieve it.

The whisky bottle from last night was exactly where he left it. The coffee machine was cold and unused. The camera you had gifted him lay on the couch with the golden ribbon rumpled on the floor beneath. Kento swallowed; unwilling to believe what he knew in his heart to be true. Instead of facing reality, he began his morning ritual of preparing coffee until he pulled down two mugs instead of one.

His hand shook around the grey mug you had favoured since you burst into his world in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. The smell of French roast turned his stomach and he launched himself down the hall to confirm his suspicions. There was no answer to his insistent knocks at your door, each one another nail in his coffin until he was completely trapped.

The room—your room—stood silent and empty.

Every trace that you had ever been here was gone, that was except for your scent which lingered in the air, thick with melancholy. Kento sat on the corner of your bed, his head cradled in his hands at the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he acted cowardly, but he had also caused you to run from him and that was a sucker punch to the gut.

“You’re a fool, Nanami. A coward and a fool…”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento angst #jjk angst

357 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 9 months

Text

General Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara Profile

Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of masturbation, mentions of non-con, mentions of murder, threats, slight emotional manipulation, Jin is a creep and goes through your stuff, breaking and entering, mentions of horrible men who don't respect women (not our lovely Jin), brief mention of strip clubs, mental breaks/Jin's Splits, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Perceptive

More than anything, Jin looks for a darling that can understand him.

He so desperately craves a human connection full of trust and caring, and having a darling who is able to read him like a book would be absolutely perfect.

He needs someone who is able to tell at a glance what he’s thinking – not getting bogged down by the multitudes of personalities shining through at any given time and instead seeing what the real him is feeling.

He craves someone who can offer him a sense of normalcy, someone who can make him feel like less of a freak, like less of a fuck-up, more like a real man. He grows attached to a perceptive darling quickly, feeling at ease in a way that he normally doesn’t.

They’re just perfect – he feels like he can be himself, letting himself be truly authentic and truly Jin.

It’s a luxury he’s nearly never afforded, his darling creating a safe space for him without even realizing it – something he’s beyond grateful for, and something that keeps him running back to his darling at every turn because it feels so damn good to just let himself go and not hold himself back.

It’s wonderful, and as soon as his darling displays this quality, Jin is helplessly, hopelessly hooked.

Sweet

At his core, Jin is a good person who’s made many bad mistakes.

He’s not a bad person by nature – and as a result, Jin finds himself attracted to people who are similar to him. He wants someone who is genuinely a good person – someone who is nice, sweet, someone who’s heart is generally positive and full of happiness.

And Jin particularly likes when this trait is aimed at him – compliments melt his heart. As soon as the words slip off his darling’s lips, Jin’s gaping at them, his heart racing in his chest and his face feeling hot because when was the last time he was complimented?

When was the last time someone praised him, the last time they smiled at him like that, the last time they seemed so genuinely happy to see him?

It doesn’t feel real when he first meets his darling, his interest immediately peaked because god, it really feels like they see him, like they understand him.

It’s euphoric in many ways, leaving his skin prickling in excitement and his stomach fluttering in nerves and pride.

A sweet darling is ideal for him – because even as his obsession festers and his behavior becomes more and more extreme, a darling who remains kind to him will only fuel this infatuation, only pushing him to try harder to win them over, to become more and more desperate to have them as his, just as he begins daydreaming about.

It’s just perfect for him – and he’ll do his absolute best to return the favor, complimenting his beloved as often and as honestly as he can, even if the compliments are more disturbing than flattering.

Calm

Jin needs a darling that can handle his Splits. He needs someone who is not only patient with him, but is also able to take the things he throws at them in stride, not even blinking when Jin falls into a particularly nasty split that’s got him spouting nonsense and panicking.

They need to be able to be calm and help them, assessing the situation and knowing exactly how to talk him down from the episode, to keep him breathing steadily and hold him so that he stays oriented.

He needs a darling that can handle the way his mouth doesn’t seem connected to his brain – random words spilling from his lips that sometimes embarrass him.

When a personality reveals something embarrassing that Jin did as a way to get closet to you, his darling needs to be able to calmly respond, to assess the situation and hopefully come to the conclusion that it’s not true, that there’s absolutely no way that Jin would do something so crazy and strange.

And yet, a calmer darling will be absolutely shocked when they learn that all of the things Jin had divulged without meaning to are true – all of it, down to the stolen socks and stalking to the graphic dreams and preparations of his apartment to make it seem a little more like his darling’s – a little more like them.

A calmer darling is ideal for Jin because he’s simply too excitable and tightly strung to not have a calm darling.

Oblivious

A darling that doesn’t notice the multitude of red flags in his behavior would make Jin’s life much, much easier.

A darling that is oblivious or perhaps blinded by their positive assumptions about people would work in Jin’s favor, because it would allow him to push the boundaries just a bit, just as he does without meaning to, all without having to explain the slip-ups he makes, all without having you grow scared by the way he seems to become more and more present in your life.

He needs a darling who doesn’t realize just how deeply Jin has invaded their life – so they can’t run before he manages to ensnare them, so they can’t leave him and abandon him like he’s so afraid they will.

Plus, there’s something endearing about this trait that Jin just can’t shake.

It makes him feel like a protector, making it easier to convince himself that his darling needs him to be around in order to safely function, to not be taken advantage of by some creep with bad intentions.

It makes justifying his actions much, much easier, lessening the small sense of guilt that eats away at him, lessening the insecurity that pushes him to draw back every once in a while, convinced that he’ll never be good enough for his precious lovely darling.

An oblivious darling would allow him to operate with less secrecy and fear, something that Jin is grateful for. Plus, they’re just so damn cute – cute enough to eat.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

Once Jin’s feelings for you take root, it’s over.

He’s so broken and lost, quite literally unsure of his place in the world, his purpose, himself. And so once you step into his life, with your pretty face and even prettier voice that says the nicest, most caring things to him, Jin’s reaction is nearly out of his control.

How can he not become absolutely, utterly enraptured with you when you’re so kind to him?

When you smile at him like that, all teeth and appled cheeks and this sparkle in your eye that he can tell isn’t forced, how can he not find himself swooning? How can he not be smitten with you when you look at him like he’s a person, like he’s worth something, like he has value and isn’t just a waste of space?

It’s euphoric, something that makes his pulse race and his cheeks tinge pink, and so of course he’s desperate to spend time with you, to be in your presence and soak up every ounce of you that he possibly can. In the beginning, when his feelings are freshly formed and still having some semblance of normalcy, Jin’s too shy to directly ask you to be with him.

He’ll struggle to look you in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his gaze flick to you every few seconds as he mumbles out a rushed, awkward, so um, I was uh, wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend…

It’s hard to hear and you’ll ask him to repeat himself, only furthering his embarrassment and making him wince because obviously you’re going to say no – you’re too pretty and smart and sweet for him, why would you ever say yes to a washed-up criminal like him? But before he can even get the chance to respond, he’s blurting out a let me take ya to the theater, yeah? We can get seats in the back where it’s just the two of us.

He’s mortified, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth and his eyes going wide; he didn’t mean it like that! Well, okay, maybe he did, and maybe the idea of being a dim, warm place with comfortable velvet seats and sugary drinks with his body pressed right next to yours is incredibly enticing and enough to make him salivate and pant like some fucking dog –

Except you’ll still say yes, because at this point Jin’s infatuation – while still painfully obvious – seems like just a crush. He’s awkward and flustered around you, but that’s kind of endearing and sweet, isn’t it?

A fully grown man – and one who’s seen more horrors than you can imagine – is bashful over you?

It’ll have you looking past the way that he always seems to show up at the places you frequent, that same nervous and hopeful look on his face as he scans the crowd for your familiar figure.

It’ll have you looking past the way he puts his hand on your back and keeps it there for much, much too long, never moving downwards but always staying firm, as if he’s glued to you, as if separating himself from you is physically painful.

It’ll have you looking past the way he begs you to share just one more glass of cheap booze, telling you that it’s good for you, that it’ll help you relax and destress from that job of yours that you hate.

(Plus, you look so damn cute when you’re tipsy – all clumsy and giggly, your inhibitions lowered so that you don’t notice when his gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long, when his hand skims across your thigh, when he leans in much too close and inhales much too loudly.)

You’ll write off most of Jin’s clingy behaviors with a wave of your hand and an excuse that it’s simply how he processes his trauma. And it’s true, to some extent. Except you don’t know the full extent – you don’t know how he follows you home every night, trying his best to stay quiet as he lurks in the shadows, making sure no one approaches you on your commute back to the quaint little apartment he’d give absolutely anything to share with you.

You don’t know the way he borrows small items of yours, keeping them on his ragged nightstand next to the bare mattress he sleeps on, your hair clips and toothbrushes kept as pristine and safe as he possibly can.

(He’ll pick them up with trembling fingers, scared that even simply touching something of yours will break it, yet simultaneously thrilled that he has something of yours, something of an angel’s.)

You aren’t aware of the way he fantasizes about you constantly, imagining everything from linking your pinkies together to burying his face between your legs. (And in vivid, vivid detail, too – even going so far as to mimic your voice and sit on his own hand so that it'll go numb, just like some teenage boy.)

You’ll write it off, but Jin sees this as permission to push further, to try harder, to test the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ as far as he can without you growing suspicious. He’ll pull you into hugs with higher frequency and longer times, keeping you pressed against his body while he buries his face into your neck and tries not to moan at the smell of you.

He’ll spam your phone with text after text, conveying conflicting messages that showcase just how little control over himself and his split personalities where you’re concerned.

(You’ll have to turn off your ringer permanently with him around – he will drive you insane, the buzzing noise and the obnoxious little bring making you lose your mind. He texts you day and night, your peaceful sleep interrupted with the notification of fifty unread texts from him, ranging from single sentences to near paragraphs.)

He’s not exactly subtle, and while you’ll cling to your excuse of him just being lonely and struggling to cope with his past, eventually you’ll have to realize that Jin isn’t just using you to help him work through his previous experiences – no, he wants more.

He wants you. He needs you, to a degree where his every waking thought revolves around you, and most of his dreams do, too. He’s clingy and needy and always, always demanding your attention, and eventually you’ll find yourself nearly ripping your hair out because you just can’t seem to get a moment of privacy around the blond, his eyes always watching you and his fingers always itching to reach out and touch, to press against your skin, to make sure that you’re real and present and with him.

He just needs the reassurance that you won’t leave him, that you’ll stay with him, that you’ll always be with him – you keep him from splitting after all, and how could he ever thank you?

By being your personal watchdog and eagerly completing each and every request of yours, no matter how depraved or inhumane and dehumanizing. Anything for you.

Obsessive

Tying hand in hand with his clinginess, Jin finds himself drowning in a sea of you once his feelings form. He finds himself so overwhelmed with all the warring desires in his heart – he wants to see you, his fingers twitching and itching to set his eyes on you, to be in your presence and bask in you you you.

But he also wants to spend time laying on his dingy mattress, his eyes closed as he mentally lists all of the things he loves about you, all the things that leave him breathless and blushing and reaching out towards you with trembling hands.

He wants to speak with you, to maybe make you laugh and hear that wonderful laugh of yours all because of something he said, but he’s also too afraid to instigate conversations with you because he’s worried he’ll somehow fuck up and scare you off.

(And just the mere thought of that gets him in a cold sweat, hands gripping at his blond hair and his eyes squeezing shut, lips moving like lightning as he repeats the mantra that you want him you want him you want him… Splits caused by his doubt for your feelings for him are always the worst – they last longer, they leave a more harrowing impact, and – worst of all – he’s so distracted by his feelings that he loses all awareness of his surroundings. He’s no longer aware of the vase nearby, knocking into it and sending the thing shattering against the floor, the sound and the feeling of glass shards pricking at his feet not even pulling him out of his stupor.)

He’s a mess in every meaningful way, and yet the only thing he can regularly, consistently bring himself to do is amass more and more information about you. You’re his own personal drug; one that calms him slightly, that makes him feel more whole – thinking of you is the only thing that can keep him focused, and this manifests itself in many ways.

Mainly, Jin takes to stalking you very, very early on. He’s simply too intrigued and attached to not follow you home, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a few seconds. He’s worried for your safety, sure, because he’s sure that a sweet, lovely thing like you could never defend yourself should a villain confront you, but that’s not why he’s trailing you in the shadows like some loser, like some freak.

No – the real reason is much more depraved, sadder and more pathetic than Jin himself would like to admit. It’s really because with every moment he watches you, he learns more and more about you.

Each night that he trails you home from work, he’s learning enough things to fuel his dreams that night – you avoid sidewalks with people when it’s late at night, preferring instead to cross the street so that you won’t pass them.

(Not that he’d let anything happen to you – he’d kill whoever laid a finger on you. He’d start by punching them, getting them to the ground and sinking his fist against their cheek and jaw again and again and again, then wrap his fingers around their neck and squeeze, feeling the way they’d wheeze and choke and desperately grapple at this fingers, begging him to save their worthless life. Begging with that same voice that they could’ve been calling out lewd and inappropriate things to you in, touching him with those hands that he’s sure they would’ve used to touch you, to taint and mar your pretty skin and leave you scared and trembling and shaking and needing someone like Jin to come and rescue you –

The man would be dead before Jin knows it, his lip caught between his teeth because although killing someone doesn’t necessarily feel good, there’s something pleasant swimming in his gut because now this person will never, ever get near you again.)

He learns that you always stop to look at pretty window displays, the glittering Christmas lights and decorations making you twinkle in turn, the colors shining against your skin and clothes in a way that makes Jin swear you’re an angel, as if you’re a personal piece of heaven just for him, no matter how undeserving he may be.

He learns that you keep your spare apartment key under your welcome mat, always fishing it out before you slip into your apartment. Your apartment, which he’s visiting numerous times – enough times that if he had to, he could navigate with his eyes closed. He’s poured through every square inch of your home – digging through drawers and marveling at each little trinket he can find, no matter how mundane.

He rifled through your kitchen drawer last month, noticing with baited breath that you have a variety of spices in your cupboard – you must like your food well-seasoned. He’s not a very good cook, but for you, he could be – and all too soon images of you leaning close to him, your lashes fluttering and your eyes sultry as you eat the bit of food off his outstretched fork, making a show of swallowing and telling him that his cooking is so good Jin, you’re so wonderful for me…

He’d also found a pair of scissors, something that’d made his brows furrow in worry because although he trusts that you’re responsible, it still makes him nervous for you to have something like this laying around your house – something that could easily cut you, something that has the potential to hurt you.

He’s gone through each and every piece of silverware you own, looking at each fork and knife and gulping, his cheeks red as he thinks of the way you’ve used these pieces of metal – your lips and tongue have pressed against the material, your saliva coating the fork’s prongs, the slurping and sucking noises you make as you eat the soup off of your spoon.

He’ll gulp, looking around your empty apartment, then quickly shove the fork into his mouth, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head because although you’ve washed it, he swears the fork tastes like you – and isn’t this almost a form of an indirect kiss? Aren’t his lips touching something yours has, his tongue rubbing and caressing the prongs just as yours might have?

(The thought leaves his knees weak, his pants unbearably tight, the fork clutched tightly in his fist as he wills himself to stay strong, to keep going and not crumple to a ball in the middle of your kitchen and fuck his fist like he so desperately needs to.)

He’ll sit on your couch, his breath uneven as soon as the soft cushions rest below him, his muscles tense and tight because he’s seen you sit here, watched as you laughed and roared at some television show, your pretty body molding to the couch’s cushions, your pajamas looking so cute and adorable and sexy on you.

His hands idly run over the couch fabric, his Adam’s Apple bobbing because oh, you’ve touched this before, haven’t you? He’ll meander into your bathroom, fingering your towels and letting his tongue slip over his lips, internally debating if it’s really such a good idea, if it’s crossing a boundary, if it really wouldn’t hurt…

And soon he’s stepping into your shower, the hot water (set to the temperature he knows you like) cascading down his nude body. He’ll open each of your shower products and eagerly smell them, something like a strangled groan slipping past his lips with each smell. He’s using your hair care products, lathering himself in your body wash, using your loofah and even using your razor, just because he wants the full experience of you, to be as close to you as possible given your current absence in the apartment.

And of course he’ll be using the towel once he’s finished – your towel, the one that still smells like you and has a strand or two of your hair sitting so perfectly and neatly on it.

(Jin picks up the hairs in awe, swallowing and bringing the hair up, his tongue brushing against the strand, his teeth clenching down as he chews at it.)

He wants to touch your toothbrush (so badly that it nearly hurts), but he stops himself, deciding that he should save that honor for when you’re sharing a toothbrush, when you’re with him every morning and night.

And of course, he’s tiptoeing into your bedroom, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring because oh god, it smells exactly like you and he thinks he might faint because it feels like you’re really here with him, like you’re by his side and hugging him and he’s surrounded by you you you.

He’s mostly respectful – or at least, as much as a man breaking-and-entering into your apartment can be, avoiding your underwear drawers despite the voice in his head urging him to snatch a pair of panties.

(The sexy ones, you know ‘em – the lacy black ones, the ones you were thinkin’ of last night when you jerked off so many times you were shootin’ blanks.)

He’ll open your closet, whistling at the sight of all your clothes. He’ll try on as many things as he can, hoping that things will fit him, always careful to hang them back up exactly as he found them, though a small part of him hopes that you can smell him on the clothing, that you’ll be reminded of him and be comforted. He’ll sit on your bed, breath hitched as he feels the way the mattress sags under his weight, before laying down slowly.

He’d showered that morning and was suddenly thankful for it – he wouldn’t want to sully your comforter with any dirt or grime. He’ll even dare to get under the covers for a moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he imagines laying with you, spooning you with sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling your body (nude, of course, because he sleeps nude and all couples should sleep without clothing, yes?) against his and relishing in the smell of your hair and the nape of your neck.

All the while, Jin is noticing and mentally cataloguing every little detail he can process while in your apartment – the color scheme, what photographs you have up, what decorates your walls, whether there’s dirty clothes on your floors or bed or if you’re perfectly clean. Because really, everything is important – every little scrap of knowledge he can glean about you feeds the insatiable desire he harbors for you, this uncontrollable urge to be with you at all moments of the day.

This satisfies him, for now – it’s enough for the time being to be living as your shadow, but soon he’ll want to be by your side, hearing you say his name and feeling your soft hands touching him.

And he’ll do absolutely anything you tell him – all with an eager nod and a franticness to his actions that would leave him wildly embarrassed if it was anyone other than you.

Anyone other than the woman he’s hopelessly infatuated with – the one he'd get on his knees and literally beg for, even just for a simple glance his way.

Gentle

As a general rule, Jin absolutely does not want to hurt you.

Despite his status as a villain, he’s caring and soft to almost a debilitating degree, the notion of violence often necessary but not something he actively pursues. And so, of the small list of people in this world that he cares about, he would never purposefully harm any of them – and because you sit smack at the top of that list, this sentiment is only more extreme.

He thinks of you as perfection, idolizing you in every possible way, and so to even entertain the idea of leaving any sort of physical or emotional damage to you makes Jin physically ill, a Split oncoming as his stomach heaves, his head feeling dizzy and light as panic engulfs him. He absolutely does not want to harm you or upset you in any way, and this ultimately results in Jin being a yandere who is neither harsh nor patronizing, but rather simply gentle.

He treats you like an absolute queen; though he’s in a financial position that makes legally procuring gifts for you a little trickly, Jin goes out of his way to try and provide you with everything and anything he can to make you happy.

Before kidnapping you, this looks like buying you small, simple little token gifts – a small, modest bouquet of flowers (bouquet being a stretch – more often than not it’s just a single flower that he himself plucked from the ground, keeping the flower safe and preserved on his journey to find you – searching your most frequently visited locations, of course, and tapping into the tracker he'd managed to get Skeptic to install into your confiscated phone).

It looks like him offering to treat you to dinners and lunches, always at places that are within his price range (because stealing food in front of you would be a tacky move and although he can’t keep the façade of his occupation away from you forever, he’d like you to think of him as a dignified man), with greasy tables and even greasier meals, dingy lighting and seats with duct tape holding the leather booths together.

It’s not much, but it’s all Jin can offer you – and he does so with the most heart-melting, hopeful smile, his eyes soft and this look of utter vulnerability scrawled across his face that’ll have you giving in almost immediately, agreeing to getting lunch with him despite the way that his blatant staring bothers you.

(As does the way he leans in and inhales deeply when your back is turned. You can hear the breathing, the strange gulping sound that follows, and although it makes the bad kind of shivers race up your spine, you don’t bring it up with him.)

And once he’s stolen you away, that façade of being a dignified man is up – he’s still spoiling you, even more so than before your forced captivity with him, but now he doesn’t feel that he has to pay to spoil you. Now, he can steal your favorite things – because really, anything is worth seeing your smile light up your whole face when he brings home that expensive pastry he knows you love.

(The sweet is perfectly preserved, not a single wrinkle in the pretty, ornate parchment paper it’s wrapped in, nor is any portion of the sweet itself squished. He’d paid extra care to keep everything perfectly in-tact – perfect for you, because anything less than that would be an insult to his love for you.)

He’s bringing home all sorts of movies for the two of you to watch together, his hand slowly inching to your thigh as you sit side by side on his shitty old couch, the television on but all his attention focused on trying to be subtle about showing you just how badly he needs to touch you. He’s trying his best to get your favorite foods every night, getting you a few new clothes (and some of his own – he’s got a few sweatshirts that he will be forcing you into wearing, the sight of you in his clothing making his face scarlet and his face buried in his hands, his lip caught between his teeth as he tries and fails to compose himself because god, you look so good and it looks so fucking right to see you in something of his.)

Really, while Jin knows that he can’t buy your love and acceptance of his feelings, he’s desperate for any sort of help to get you moving that way. Any aid he can enlist in helping spark and develop any sort of reciprocation of his obsession with you is eagerly used, hope springing up inside his chest that maybe, just maybe, if he can make you happy enough you’ll forget that he’s a criminal, that he’s kidnapped you, that you’ve found out about all the stalking and stealing used socks and living in your apartment while you weren’t home.

He’s hopeful that all his hard work will pay off – you’ll see him as a man who really, truly loves you, even if he doesn’t deserve you.

God, he’ll never deserve someone like you – but he’ll never stop wanting you, either.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

In general, Jin’s jealousy stems less from a place of selfish possessiveness and more from a place of insecurity and genuine worry for your safety.

Jin is more than aware that he’s not your ideal man – he’s a criminal with deaths to his name, renting a shitty apartment he can barely afford, riddled with mental health issues stemming from his quirk, and perpetually smelling like cigarettes. He’s very aware that if you were left to your own devices, you’d never pick him – and he can’t blame you, honestly. He’s a loser, a grown man with so many voices inside his head that he can’t keep track of them, and if he were a woman as pretty, sweet, and smart as you, he’d choose someone more successful, wealthier, more stable, just better.

And so, when he sees another man interact with you, his initial thought is that this is it – you’ll like this man more than you like Jin.

Maybe he’s funnier and wittier, or maybe he’s charming and suave with his words, two things that Jin himself certainly isn’t. Maybe he’s more attractive – without a nasty scar down the center of his forehead, or maybe you prefer brunettes like him, or maybe he’s taller.

Regardless, insecurity immediately eats away at Jin, forcing him to notice all of the things that man does better than him, all of the things that could pull your attention and feelings – whatever those may be – away from Jin and instead towards this stranger.

And while he initially feels that this is true, that this is the natural course of things and it’s how it should be, the longer he watches the interaction, the less satisfied with that he becomes. He grows restless, his fingers twitching at his sides, his muscles tensing and flexing and urging him to do something, whether that’s interrupting the two of you or causing a large enough distraction to end whatever conversation you’re having. It’s nearly unbearable, an internal war raging the longer he watches on, his lips moving and all sorts of different arguments and urges slipping off his tongue.

Go interrupt them!

No, it would be wrong of me to insert myself into a conversation that I’m not a part of.

Fuck that, he wants to steal her! He wants to make her his own!

You don’t know that, you can’t claim something that extreme without any foundation to base it on!

You can see his face, you can tell he wants to fuck her – look at that, he’s practically undressing her with his eyes!

It goes back and forth, seeming to never end, until eventually Jin forces himself to turn around and walk away, the part of him that’s insecure finally winning out the longer he notices things that are simply better about this stranger. It’s torturous and makes him bit his lip so hard it draws blood, his steps labored and heavy, but it’s the right thing to do.

And if you respond to his texts later that night, Jin will know that you haven’t completely forgotten him – perhaps you’ve forgotten this stranger, though, because you’re choosing to respond to Jin’s texts, not his. And this idea makes a wobbly smile spread across Jin’s face, his thumbs typing away at his cracked phone, deleting and retyping over and over again as he tries to think of ways to keep the conversation going, wanting so very badly to keep talking to you and keep your attention on him.

However, although Jin is fairly complacent and non-confrontational when it comes to most of your interactions with other men, there are a few circumstances where he’s not nearly as controlled – that is, when Jin can tell that the man has bad intentions.

It’s one thing to see you talk with a man that clearly finds you attractive, but it’s an entirely different story when Jin can see the gun or knife glinting in the man’s pocket, or when he recognizes the man’s face as a petty criminal known for pickpocketing defenseless women. It’s in these circumstances where Jin’s face will harden up, his lips a thin, straight line as he approaches the both of you, butting his way in with an excited greeting aimed at you, his eyes cold as he stares the man down.

And frankly, most petty villains will recognize him – sure, he isn’t the most famous villain, but he’s still a member of the League, and the perpetrator will often make some excuse and scurry away, not wanting to stir up any trouble with the League over some stupid woman.

And though Jin won’t want to explain why the man fled so quickly, he’s absolutely smug that his mere presence was enough to deter the man from bothering you anymore. He’ll look at you with excited eyes, his cheeks lightly flushed, hoping and praying that you’ll compliment him, that you’ll praise him and thank him because really, you wanted the man to go away but you were too scared to do it yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, if he’s really lucky, you’ll even give him a peck on the cheek as a thanks, the feeling of your lips against his skin making his heart race, this strange half-whimper slipping from his throat because you’re so close that he can smell you, and it’s fresh and real this time – not just the residual scent of your pillow your towel.

It’s wishful thinking, but Jin likes being your guardian angel – he’s anything but an angel, really, but it makes him feel important, needed, good. Like he’s actually giving you something, instead of just taking and taking and taking.

This is wrong, and Jin knows it. He shouldn’t be here – the cute little café is a public space, sure, but there was absolutely no chance that he would’ve found himself here if he hadn’t been trailing you for the last thirty minutes.

And he’d enjoyed it – watching you walk, seeing how your hair flittered a little in the breeze, the sway of your hips (something he tried hard not to look at but still found his gaze wandering down to every few minutes, his cheeks growing pink and palm coming up to smack at his cheek).

But the moment you’d entered the café, Jin following a few steps behind, he knows something is wrong. Instead of sitting at your own table, you make a beeline to the larger wooden one by the window – the one where a man is already sitting. Jin sits at his own table, some twenty feet away, bringing a flimsy newspaper up to cover his face.

The man greets you with a smile, introducing himself, complimenting your outfit and even pushing your fucking chair in, and suddenly it becomes very apparent what’s happening.

You’re on a date. A fucking date. Jin feels his face slip, a deep frown etching its way onto his lips. It’s torture to listen to you; your voice is a little higher than usual, he notes, and something sharp wedges its way between his ribs.

You never speak to him with that kind of voice – does that mean you aren’t interested in him? Does that means you don’t like him? Don’t say stupid crap like that! Are you stupid? It’s probably true! He winces, knocking at his head with his hand as a feeble attempt to get the warring thoughts to stop.

The date goes well, as far as Jin can tell – conversation flows easily, and with every passing moment he finds himself growing more and more restless, the hopelessness beginning to take its toll. He wants to interrupt – badly, really, with every fiber of his being. But that wouldn’t be fair to you – you obviously seem to like this man, perhaps even more than you like Jin, as loathe as he is to say it, and what right does he have to take that happiness away from you?

It hurts him, yes, but if it means staying in your life and seeing you happy, even if it’s with another man, he’ll grit his teeth and not play dirty. Your happiness is top priority, after all – and as you leave the café, you and the man going your separate ways, Jin can only hope that you will not be receiving any calls or texts from the man, even as you happily give him your number. He’s still gripping his hands into tight fists, even as he begins trailing the man.

This sight is significantly less pleasant than when he follows you – he doesn’t mind looking at you, not when you’re all pretty and sweet and you seem so very innocent. But this man? Well, as he approaches a bar a few blocks away, Jin’s brow cocks up. A mid-afternoon drink seems a little strange, and as Jin steps inside the bar after the man, a small burst of pride blooms in his chest.

Because really, this is not just a bar – there’s a stage, at the far back of the establishment, with all sorts of different colored lights beaming down on the main act: a scantily clad woman leaning back on a pole, winking at a man sitting in the front row. Jin’s taken aback – surely this can’t be a good sign, right?

You didn’t need to be seeing any men who frequent strip clubs – and with the way the man immediately went up to the bar, ordering a shot and acting friendly with the bartender, Jin’s sure this isn’t the first time he’s visited.

With a smile, Jin decides that this is finally something that Jin is better at – he’s many things, sure, but he only has eyes for you and he’d never seek out the visual comforts of another woman.

And as Jin approaches the bar, ears perked up, anger brews in his gut. Yeah man, just wrapped up a date – girl’s awful, talking about her family and shit, who the hell wants to hear that? She’d look better if she just shut the fuck up.

Jin’s jaw is on the floor, rage swimming in his veins. How dare this man speak about you that way – as if you’re just some random woman, as if everything you say isn’t gospel, something worthy of being revered and paid the utmost attention to. How dare this man dismiss you like that – after you’d been so happy, after you’d thought the date had gone so well, after he’d asked for your number, for God’s sake.

And with that, Jin sinks into his jacket, closing his eyes and trying to subdue the urge to walk over and sock the guy across the face so hard that he spits out a few teeth. No, that wouldn’t accomplish anything except a few moments of satisfaction – no, Jin has to take more drastic measures, something that will ensure that you and your fragile little heart won’t be hurt by this horrible, disgusting man.

And so, as Jin slips away, it’s not so hard to send you a fake text from the man, asking if he can swing by your apartment.

And you, being flustered that your date had contacted you to fast and so eagerly of course say yes, inviting him over for dinner. Jin smiles down at the phone with a big, bashful beam, able to pretend for just a few moments that he was supposed to be the recipient of that text, that really it was him you were inviting over for a homecooked meal, then maybe a movie, then maybe you’d stay up and talk with him for hours, falling asleep in his arms and letting him hold you like he spend hours dreaming of.

(Or, if you’re feeling a bit frisky, perhaps you’d let him spread your legs and spend hours with his head trapped between them, your taste and smell clouding his senses as he brings you to your high over and over and over…)

It’s not hard to make a copy of the man, to get him at your apartment door, that same suave walk and the high cheekbones making you bashful as you open your apartment door. But then, the man sneers at you, looking you up and down just as Jin had instructed, scoffing under his breath and telling you that you’re even uglier the second time I see you. I just came by to tell you that I don’t wanna see you anymore – you’re not my type, you know? I like ‘em a little more interesting. But if you wanna fuck, I’d be more than happy to –

You slam the door in his face, chest heaving and tears pricking at your eyes, and although it nearly braks Jin’s heart, he closes his eyes and breaths deep, reminding himself that although hurting you is making every bone in his body feel brittle and about ready to snap, this is necessary.

It’s necessary because the man probably would’ve done worse if left to his own devices – if his conversation with the bar tender was any indication, you would’ve been used for your body and then unceremoniously dumped in the trash. And you deserve so, so much more than that – Jin is sure of it, and Jin can give you that if you’d just let him.

He gives you some time, sure that you’re sobbing behind the front door, and it’s only an hour or so later that he texts you (from his real number, of course) if you’d like to grab dinner. He’s equal parts nervous and ecstatic when you respond with a simple yes, already eager to get you distracted from that loser – and, perhaps, even manage to show you how much better Jin can treat you.

He's charming that night, on his best behavior, telling you all sorts of jokes and asking about things he knows you love to ramble on about, just wanting to hear your voice and watch your lips move. And soon, the guilt is totally washed away – because really, would you have ever been able to speak this freely with that man? Absolutely not. Jin may not deserve you, but at least he can treat you well – so why can’t you see that?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Jin doesn’t want to kidnap you, but he will eventually reach a point where his anxiety, paranoia and profession leave him with no other choice. He’s fully aware that his obsession with you has grown to such astronomical proportions that it’s literally controlling his life, but he doesn’t seriously entertain the notion that you’re just as deeply in love and devoted to him as he is you.

(Obviously he likes to think that you are – pleasant daydreams star you with your lips pressed against his jaw as you tell him just how much he means to you, just how badly you want him, just how much you need him, but he’s always brought back to reality with a cruel slap, Dabi barking his name or an alarm clock going off and leaving him feel empty, alone, restless for you.)

He knows that he possesses a one-sided love for you, and in the beginning of his obsession, that was enough. It was enough to simply be seen by you – to have your attention on him if only for a few seconds, your smile and warm and inviting and genuine as you spoke to him. It was enough that he was a silent admirer, watching you from the shadows of your life and eagerly anticipating your next encounter, no matter how large or small.

It was enough, until suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly Jin needed to have more contact with you – getting your phone number had been one of the most nerve-wracking things he’d ever done, his fear of rejection so incredibly high that it made his voice a bit scratchy and he’d almost stuttered, leaving him mortified but only more enamored with you when you just laughed and gladly filled out your contact information into his phone.

And that had been enough for a time, too – he could text you, sending you photos of the sunset that he spent five minutes trying to find the perfect camera settings and angles for, just so that he could send as good of a photo to you as possible and have you be impressed.

(He’d been hoping you’d even compliment him as a response, perhaps telling him that it’s so beautiful, Jin! You’re so talented at photography! Or, in an even more idealized world, you’d tell him how beautiful the stars are and then immediately follow that up with an offer to go star gazing, to spend the evening together curled up in some remote field staring up at the sky and using each other as body heat to stay warm in the cold night air.)

But then the texting and calling wasn’t enough – soon he needed more, and that’s when the stalking began. He’d follow you to work, then immediately return to your apartment and snoop around, touching everything and picking everything up just so that there was at least some memory of him on everything you own.

And this had to be enough – this was the furthest Jin could get away with without you noticing, without you cutting him out of your life completely once you realized just how truly deranged for you he was.

But then somehow a hero finds out about you, and suddenly your position in his life is threatened, and Jin panics. He totally, utterly panics, a Split intense enough to bring tears to his eyes forcing him to rely on the one person he trusts more than any other soul on the planet: you.

He comes to you, babbling and going on about some sort of internal debate that you can’t follow, and as you try to calm him down, your words start slowly sinking into Jin’s psyche. You keep saying that you’re there, that you’ll always be there for you, I promise.

You’re pulling him into your side, a cloth bag placed over hie head while you rub at his arms and back, shushing him gently and even rocking him back and forth every so slightly. And so, as the Split slowly fades and he calms down, two things happen – one, you sigh in relief and hope that Jin has processed some of his emotions and will leave, and two, Jin hearing your words as a promise that you want him, that you need him, that you want to stay by his side for the rest of your life.

And so, in the aftermath of a horrible mental health episode, Jin decides that you’ve essentially given him permission to make sure you really are always going to be there for him, just like you said.

It’s not hard to sneak into your apartment that night, the chloroform soaked rag sitting underneath your nose in a way that made it difficult not to swoon over your adorable sleeping figure.

(Jin gulps and swallows as he stares at your limp body, his hand reaching out to very, very lightly brush his fingertips over the expanse of your clothed hip, wide eyes staring at you as if you’re some piece of art, something for him to keep and cherish and love.)

And when you wake up the morning, you’ll find yourself in a strange bedroom with a strange man who’ll spoil you rotten – even if you beg him not to, even if you say the only gift you want is to be let free.

As a captor, Jin isn’t too terrible – all those desires to spoil you and make you happy are still very much present within him even once he’s stolen you away.

In fact, if anything he’s even more desperate to get you smiling, to see you be happy and looking at him with anything other than fear and hate. Because really, after that Split that led to him kidnapping you calms down, Jin is only left with complete and utter regret – you’ll hate him now, he’s sure of it.

You’ll be afraid of him, thinking of him not as the sweet, funny, and harmless Jin you’ve come to know but instead a monster, a criminal capable of hurting you in more ways than one. And this kills him – he hates being looked at like he’s ruined your life, even if he basically has. And because of this, he decides that the only way to get you to slowly see him in a positive light again is if he makes your life with him as good as possible – if he spoils you, treats you like a queen, pampers you and cares for you with the level of devotion that you deserve.

And frankly, Jin is more than happy to give you this – he’s a worshipper through and through, already revering you like you’re something holy and in need of constant praise. He’ll outfit his dingy apartment the best that he can – there’s freshly stolen furniture in your favorite colors and fabrics, changed lightbulbs for his overhead lights work, a stocked refrigerator, a new mattress.

(Only one though, so you’ll still have to share with him – but don’t be too worried, because he won’t actively try anything without your explicit permission. At least, he won’t while he’s awake – when he’s asleep is an entirely different story, because that’s when his real desires come out, unchecked and uncontrolled as he grinds his hips against your ass, his little moans and whispers of your name as he presumably has a wet dream about you more than a little awkward to lie next to. Don’t mention it to him though, please – he can tell that his cum is staining his boxers, but he’s always hopeful that you slept through it all, that you didn’t notice the way he was probably trying to get stimulation, that you didn’t see just how depraved and desperate for intimacy he is.)

He’s getting you comfortable clothing; lots of sweatshirts and lounging pants, fuzzy socks and even a few hats for when the heating in the building goes out (as it often does).

(He really likes to see you in his clothing, of course, but Jin isn’t too terribly pushy – he’d be ecstatic if you willingly wore something of his, his face bright red and all sorts of things coming out of his mouth, but he’s really and truly pleased, a satisfied and smug feeling burrowing in his chest that’s difficult to hide. Sometimes he’ll even wear the new clothing first, making sure that it smells like him, before handing it off for you to hear, biting his lip and struggling to stay calm because god, you look so damn good in what he’d just worn, god you’re really here with him right now and looking at him and touching him and acknowledging him.)

He’ll stock up on all your favorite foods, paying special attention to making sure he has every snack under the sun. And while he does care about your health, when he’s buying you all these snacks, he’ll get absolutely anything you want, even if there’s so much sugar and such little nutritional value that it makes him nervous.

He can’t cook very well, but he’ll order takeout or swing by a restaurant and steal something for dinner, always loving the look of hunger and shy thankfulness as you bite into the meal he’s brought you, trying hard to ignore the way he’s blatantly staring at you and awaiting your approval.

And really, that’s another part of your captivity with him – the staring, the touching, the constant talking, the constant him. He’s always been clingy with you, but it’s even more so once he's got you trapped under his thumb. He always has to be looking at you, observing you and feeling like he’s a part of whatever you’re doing. He wants to see everything you’re up to – when you’re watching television, he’s watching you.

(And nervously playing with his fingers, like there’s something he wants to ask you but is afraid to, right up until he blurts it out, something crude and rude and it immediately makes him apologize, gripping at his hair a bit and telling you about how he didn’t mean it, oh man I promise I didn’t mean it!)

When you’re doing one of the puzzles he’d stolen to help keep you entertained while he was busy, he’s sitting on the other side of the table, those eyes of his glued onto your fingers as you try each piece, watching with rapt attention and marveling at how you slowly make progress, feeling smug and prideful because his girl is so smart.

When you’re stepping into the shower, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, not peeking at you but simply staring at the open doorway of the bathroom, his back facing the shower but his presence still suffocating you.

(He refuses to leave alone during showers, simply because he’s terrified that you’ll slip and fall, that you’ll crack your head open or accidentally swallow shampoo or any number of other wild, outlandish things. And, as he listens to the sound of running water, he’s hoping that one day he’ll get to join you – that one day you’ll be able to bathe together. He’ll run his fingers over your roots, massaging the shampoo into your hair slowly and deeply, your body pressed close to his as the water cascades down your back. He’ll have you lather up his body with that scented body wash you love, and maybe you’ll even draw shapes with the bubbles, press kisses to his naked chest or press yourself against him, whispering in your ear that you love him...)

Truly, Jin is not so bad – he's clingy and you’ll have absolutely no time to yourself, but he’s not too invasive. He doesn’t treat you like an incompetent child, and he at least tries to make you happy – he won’t push you into a physical relationship, not does he demean you in any purposeful way.

The only true negative with Jin (aside from your kidnapping in the first place, not to mention the stalking and hyper fixation) is that although he tries his best to control it, Splits are not pretty, and you’re always the one he comes to her help. When you’re around they happen significantly less often, his comfort level higher and his concentration wavering from his own identity crisis and instead towards you, just as his thoughts often do, but they still happen.

And when they do, he’s blindly searching for you, reaching out bleary, teary eyes and all sorts of babbles and rambles coming from his mouth, every muscle in his body tensing up as he clutches onto you, begging for you to help him, to please, please make me whole again, ‘m not sure what’s – what’s real.

And while you may hate Jin for kidnapping you, for occasionally breaking into your apartment while you’re asleep and watching you rest, for threatening others in your name, for keeping you safe and sound, you still can’t watch this. Somewhere buried inside the monster that stole you away is the Jin that you were friends with – and that’s the Jin you want to help, the one that’s driving you as you shove the paper bag down over his head, letting him engulf you in a nearly too-tight hug as he sobs and his shoulders shake.

It takes him a while to calm down, but as his grip grows tighter and he starts murmuring your name under his breath like a chant, he’ll slowly pull away, swallowing heavily and telling you that he loves you, that he needs you, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And perhaps it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps you’ve simply gone crazy, but as time passes something about that sentiment will start becoming romantic to you, something that makes your heart race and gets your palms sweaty.

Because really, eventually you will end up playing out Jin’s fantasies – where the two of you are deeply in love, living together, sleeping together, bathing together, eating together, doing every possible thing in one another’s company because he simply can’t stomach the idea of being aware from you for any small amount of time.

It’s bliss, everything he’s ever dreamed of – and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means acting like your slave just to see you smile at him once a while and give him any scrap of positive affection you can muster.

Anything at all.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Jin worships you. He finds you to be absolute perfection – you’re beautiful and caring and patient, everything wonderful and nearly too perfect to even be real. You’re certainly too perfect for a fuck-up like him – and yet he wants you, in such a primal and raw way that he can’t hope to fight it.

You’re like air to him, and because he’s grown so attached to your praise and presence in order for his mental health to stabilize for a few moments, Jin can’t stomach the thought of punishing you.

You’re supposed to be happy with him – you’re supposed to be growing to love him, something that he works hard at every day that he has you trapped with him. He gets you flowers (they’re a little wilted and old, but they’re the best he can find), little chocolates (never quite in the flavors and styles you like, but as close as he can get), and tries to keep you happy and placated by having all your favorite things in the apartment.

And so, even more than being upset that you attempted to escape or hurt yourself, Jin can’t really fathom why you’d even bother doing something worthy of a punishment in the first place – are his efforts not enough? Is it not enough for him to run himself ragged trying to think of ways to keep you happy, to show you that despite having kidnapped you, he’s not an entirely bad person?

It’s demoralizing and sends him spiraling into a state of panic and confusion, leading to particularly bad Splits that get him ripping at his hair and frantically grabbing for something, anything, to stop the episode in its tracks.

And so, punishments aren’t common at all – with a few hard exceptions that he does, with time, deem as worthy of his punishments.

(Harming yourself is a large one, as is attempting to harm Jin. Most other things are fair game, and things that he understands why you’d do. But once there’s the question of safety, Jin’s hairs are standing on edge, worry eating him alive because he absolutely cannot have you bleeding or in pain or any number of horrible things.)

You’ll never, ever be physically harmed while with him – the mere thought makes him anxious enough that he feels like he’ll hurl, the images of you bruised and battered flashing behind his eyes and making him feel on edge, anger boiling up in his chest because he absolutely will not stand for you to be harmed in any capacity, whether by another person or by himself.

And he doesn’t even really like to emotionally punish you – he’s not the best manipulator in the world, and something about purposefully warping your mind makes him feel dirty, a grimy feeling that makes his skin crawl and that he wants to avoid at all costs. But sometimes, certain infractions – especially towards the beginning of your captivity – have to be addressed, the bad behavior in you stomped out before it can really take root.

And so, Jin relies on other methods to get these points across – that is, he decides to show you just how good you have it with him by taking some of that good away.

He’ll revoke your dinner privilege for a night, or showering privileges for a few days.

He’ll forbid you from listening to music by removing all electronic players in the apartment, his phone hidden on his person (and yours having been long destroyed, even from before he laid your unconscious body out on your bed, marveling at the sight of you and oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face).

It doesn’t feel good, you being even minorly uncomfortable in any way a difficult a difficult sight, but Jin pushes through, his personalities arguing audibly but all eventually agreeing that showing you exactly what you do have is the best method to go about making you as happy as you possibly can be with him.

Besides, there’s something inexplicably satisfying about the moment that you finally admit that you need him, that as much as you hate the hell he’s created by kidnapping you and keeping you all for himself, you must rely on him if you want to survive.

And Jin is smug – finally, you’re starting to see that he can be good, that he’s really not the monster you’ve cracked him out to be. And as soon as the punishment is over, Jin is back to the ever-loving, clingy mess that he always is, desperate to be around you and get your attention.

Jin’s hurt, more than anything, when you lunge at him and swing your fist like you’re trying to punch him.

He stops you easily, of course, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that has you shrinking back, shame withering through your body because god, how can he look so genuinely heartbroken, so genuinely betrayed?

It’s silent for a few moments as he holds your wrist in place, his mind too distracted to even focus on the feeling of physical touch that you initiated, even if the intention was less than ideal. His voice is small when he asks you what you’re doing, hurt lacing his words as he asks why are you trying to punch me? Are you mad at me? What did I do?

And in a different voice, though still somber are you on your period?

And although you have a few choice words to spit at him, all kinds of answers popping into your mind immediately, there’s just something about the way he’s slumped over, shoulders drooping and defeated, the downturn of his lips and the soulful look in his eye that have you unable to speak, the words simply not rolling off of your tongue.

Jin waits for a moment, expecting a barrage of hatred to spew from you, but nothing comes. And so, with careful fingers and slow movements, he slowly lets go of your hand, watching with careful eyes for your next move.

When you don’t swing at him again, Jin takes a step back, the action looking like it physically pains him.

It’s late, we should get to bed. It’s silent again for a moment, but then he moves towards the couch.

Listen, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but tonight you’ve gotta, uh, you’ve gotta sleep here tonight.

You look at him like he’s a little crazy, and he sends you a sorry glance, that same hurt written across his features.

You’ve gotta understand that I’m trying to do what’s best for you, I promise! I know kidnapping you was wrong, but you’re here now and we’ve gotta make the best of it.

God get over it already! It’s already been a month!

You watch with wide eyes as he grabs the blanket off of the back of the sofa, folding it over his arm and gesturing to the furniture.

Sleep here, you’ve gotta learn that hurting me isn’t okay, and neither is hurting yourself so don’t you try anything!

I’ll sleep with an eye open, you hear?

The night is long without the blanket, the apartment’s heating out again as you shiver against the material, using the mangy couch cushions as a makeshift blanket. It’s horrible, and you roll over with a sigh, sure that you’ll never manage to fall asleep in this position but fully knowing that Jin would wake up if you tried to join him in the warm bed. Shutting your eyes and sighing, you again try to drift into sleep – unaware of the way Jin lays in the bed, staring across the room at you with fully awake eyes.

Watching you struggle is torture; he wants more than anything to get up and come bundle you up in the blankets, the sound of your clattering teeth and shivering audible even from his position. But he can’t – not if he wants you to learn your lesson.

Not if he wants you to understand that you absolutely cannot be trying to instigate violence between the two of you – you’re supposed to be a loving couple, happy with one another and perfectly content to live out the rest of your days together.

A punch doesn’t exactly fit that happy dream that Jin has whipped up, and although he knows it’s far off in the future, he fully expects it to become reality one day – you’ve just got to stop fighting it so hard.

And as morning arrives and you both lie in your respective places, neither of you having slept a wink, Jin decides it was worth it. Because when you get out of bed, crawling over to him and asking with that fucking look on your face if you can use the blanket or get in with him, he’s crumbling.

You’ve never asked before – you’ve never used the word ‘please’ with him since being kidnapped, and here you were now, asking him for a favor, politely, sweetly, like you actually appreciate him.

All he can do is stare dumbly at you for a few seconds, but then he’s sputtering out a yes and scotting over, opening up the sheets to expose the beaten-up white tank top he’s sporter and the boxer shorts. Immediately you jump in, the sudden warmth feeling heavenly on your chilled bones, but Jin can only shudder, the feeling of your body so close to his driving him crazy, your smell engulfing his senses and he swears he can even taste you.

He’ll pull you close, experimentally, and when you don’t fight it he’ll let out a slow, long breath, letting his hand rest on your side lightly, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you.

Almost as if you’re not real – and by extension that this sort of fondness you seem to be developing for him isn’t real either. But God, he hopes it is.

OVERALL DANGER:

5/10

Jin is not particularly dangerous.

Mostly, he’s just incredibly and overwhelmingly needy. He’s so sure that he’s not worthy of you, that you’re much too good for him that it causes him to overcompensate, to try much too hard to get you to like him, to get you to want him.

He’s always texting you, running into you at seemingly random places and times, always talking your ear off and looking so genuinely enraptured and intrigued when you respond to him that it’ll make you a little uncomfortable, the intensity in his eyes a bit scary.

He sees you as being something genuinely divine, his idolization of you terrifying in its sheer degree. He spends every free moment trailing behind you, always living in your shadow, pretending with a dopey grin that he’s actually living out your life with you, that you’re somehow aware of him stalking you, that you actually want him to be involved in your day to day life.

(And he only feels a little pathetic about this – his love for you and his intense desire to be recognized by you too strong to bar him from having some dignity and stopping this disturbing obsession.)

He’s always trying to interact with you, becoming addicted to hearing your voice and feeling your attention on him, becoming addicted to the feeling of protecting you, of being needed. And when he eventually snaps and steals you away, Jin only becomes more needy, trying desperately to compensate for the fact that he’s kidnapped you by spoiling you with any gift he can, respecting your privacy and autonomy, trying to keep you as happy as possible given your situation.

And really, while you’ll hate him at first, betrayed beyond belief and scared of this strange new person that seems to have replaced the Jin you knew, eventually you’ll slowly come around. You’ll start to realize just how truly pathetic he is, how he can’t help himself but want you and your attention, and although you’ll hate yourself for it, some part of you will be flattered by how badly he wants you.

Some part of you will be pleased that someone desires you so much that they’ve become such a mess, that they want to please you badly enough that they’re willing to throw their pride out the window for you. You’ll feel guilty and like you’re betraying yourself, but really it’s in your best interest to not fight this new development – because really, while Jin may seem a little scatterbrained and easy to manipulate, he’ll find you if you escape.

And he’ll find you remarkably fast – and although he still won’t hurt you upon your reunion, you’ll come to find that Jin has treated you very, very well. And when that’s suddenly taken away, you’ll find yourself wishing that Jin – your Jin, the one that would steal the stars and sky for you – was back, that he was with you and telling you just how beautiful you are.

You’ll slowly learn that you need him just as badly as he needs you, now – a sentiment that makes Jin beam so brightly that it nearly hurts.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere jin bubaigawara #yandere twice #_lee's profiles #_bnha #_jin bubaigawara #twice x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader

362 notes · View notes

junkissed · 5 months

Text

moments with jun

member — junhui x gn reader genre — fluff, bullet point headcanons, non-idol au word count — 1.9k (they're very long bullet points nskhdfj) warnings — mentions of food, that's really it this is super sfw. i don't think i included any details about reader but if this isn't actually gn please lmk i may have missed it. unedited bc i'm at work notes — requested by anon — idk if this was actually a request or not but i agree w you soooo much i love all the different versions of jun and this was so so cute to write 🥹 sorry this is so long literally i can talk about jun for hours and hours and if you get me started talking about him i will never stop like i will talk about him an infinite amount until the end of time. if anyone wants to hear more of my delusional rambling pls lmk bc i will never shut up i love him so much i was literally giggling and kicking my feet while writing. reblog if you love jun can i get an amen huihuis

i think the version of himself that he shows you is his most authentic one. like he just feels so comfortable and safe with you that he doesn't care what you see or what he does. it's his most secret personality, but it's his most honest, and he doesn't let a lot of people see it (at least not right away). of all his different personalities and worlds, the one with you is the closest to the one he saves for himself. there's subtle differences, things he keeps even more private, but it's not anything huge or significant.

he's clingy, but usually doesn't act on it physically. to others he shows his clinginess in other ways, like standing extra close to his friends when he doesn't have to or just sitting with someone while they eat. but what's different is for you, he's clingy in every way possible.

in the mornings he'll snuggle as close as possible, watching your eyelashes flutter as you sleep. he's almost afraid to touch you for fear of waking you up and disturbing your precious sleep, so he usually keeps his hands to himself other than gently pulling a piece of hair out of your mouth or carefully touching your cheek because he just can't believe you're real and you're so beautiful. but as soon as you start to wake up he's all over you, rolling over and wrapping his long arms around you and kissing you all over your beautiful face and basking in your warmth.

he texts you all throughout the day even if you don't reply, because he knows that it'll make you smile even just seeing his name on your phone. he'll send you dozens of pictures (of himself, of cats he's seen in real life, of cats he's seen on the internet, of himself photoshopped with cats… etc.) and he always has a cat gif for every occasion. it's just a little way to show his affection when you aren't together, reminding him that hopefully somewhere out there you're thinking about him, too.

he's all over you when you eat too, and he has to hold himself back from literally climbing onto your lap because he doesn't wanna be overbearing and give you space. but he'll still sit as close to you as possible, your chairs touching as he watches you with the cutest smile on his face.

jun in public with you is similar to jun in private, but quieter and more reserved. he's not big on pda at all, unless it's with people he's very close to like minghao or the other members, but even then it's rare for them to see him doing anything more than holding your hand. so eating in public he's not quite as clingy as when you're alone at home, but it's definitely still there, just quietly.

at restaurants when you go on dates he'll sit next to you, even if there's space on both sides of the booth. he claims it's because it's easier for you to steal bites off his plate, but you both know that's not the reason why: he just likes to feel close to you, sitting shoulder to shoulder even when there's plenty of room to spread out. when he's forced to sit across from you for whatever reason, he'll hold your hand under the table or lightly kick your shoe because he still wants to be touching you.

jun's love language is food, so a big part of your relationship revolves around it. cooking together; him cooking and you sitting in a chair nearby keeping him company; you cooking and you have to whack him away with the spoon because he's standing too close but he just really likes being near you and watching you work. no matter who cooks the meal he always makes sure you're served first and he only starts filling his plate after you've insisted that you won't eat any more.

he's very giving and another one of his love languages is acts of service, so a lot of the time he'll cook for you even if he's dead tired because he wants to make sure you're fed and happy and healthy. he’s more independent and likes doing things for himself, even more so when it comes to you and he knows you depend on him. so while restaurant dates are pretty common, eating takeout at home doesn't happen very often unless you specifically ask for something or if he's so tired that neither of you want to cook.

but this is kind of contradictory because he actually loves quiet nights in eating takeout on the couch. he wants to hear all about your day while he shovels more fried rice onto your paper plate to make sure you get enough. there's a tv show playing in the background on low volume or even muted and neither of you are really paying attention because you're too caught up snuggling together with your feet across his lap.

when he's comfortable around someone he can be jumpy and kind of rambunctious, but he also knows when to tone it down. it may not be super obvious to others, but there's actually a huge difference between jun's silence when he's comfortable vs. when he's uncomfortable.

when he's in public or around people he doesn't know or even just around large groups in general he kind of fades into the background, preferring to watch and observe rather than participate. he's not shy, but he just doesn't say much. but when it's just the two of you, his silence is completely different. he's totally focused, tuned in to every word you're saying and committing it to his memory in case he needs it for later. hearing you talk is literally the best part of his day, so when he gets quiet it's not because he doesn't want to talk, but because he likes hearing you talk more.

but that's not to say he's quiet all the time. when he gets excited about something, it's like watching a kitten with the zoomies. his eyes go wide and he's smiling so hard, grinning from ear to ear, and he's speaking so fast you can barely keep up but you love to listen to him just as much as he loves to listen to you. when he's around other people he gets almost shy about his happiness, and even around people like minghao who he's completely comfortable with, he still doesn't show the full extent of how excited he is. but with you, he's overflowing with love and joy and excitement and he doesn't hide any of it. he has a childlike sort of wonder and happiness, but he's so open about it with you and it feels like a fresh breeze through an open window.

almost all of the moments he shares with you are secret from the rest of the world, in the comfort of your own home or in another place that the two of you can be alone together with no chance of being interrupted. but that doesn't mean he can't share those moments with you in other places, too. in any kind of public setting he doesn't show everything, but there's still tiny little pieces of that side of him that only you get to see; they aren't obvious to everyone, but he doesn't want them to be obvious because they're only for you.

when you go shopping together he gets excited about what to make for dinner, picking up ingredients and throwing you a grin as he puts them in the cart. or strolling through the mall together and he sees a shirt that he thinks will look so good on you, so he tugs you into the store and giddily asks you to try it on.

or walking in public, like down the sidewalk or through the park or in a parking lot on the way to his car, he'll hold your hand. it may not seem like much, but it means everything to him to feel you in his grasp, a tiny reminder that you're there. one hand in yours, the other carrying your purse or bags or groceries or whatever. you don't have to ask and he doesn't even offer, he just holds everything quietly and doesn't complain, as long as he's next to you.

like i said earlier he's very giving; he has sooo much love but he keeps it quiet a lot of the time until he really trusts you, because it's easy for people to take advantage of that. but once he's comfortable with you he doesn't hold back with showing you his love in any form. not necessarily spoiling you with gifts, but he does things that he knows will make you feel as happy and loved as you make him feel.

he showers you with compliments, even though it makes him just a little bit shy to admit how much he likes you and how incredible you are, but he needs to make sure you know exactly how he sees you. he makes you lunch and cleans things without saying anything and leaves little notes around the house in places you won't find right away so that it'll be a true surprise when you do find them. he doesn't always know how to express all the love he has to give, so he does it in the ways he knows best.

he does so much without you having to ask because he doesn't want to be praised for it; he just wants to do it, even if that means he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. he doesn't need recognition, because you're already the greatest achievement he could ever hope to have.

this is a silly thought but i think it's true so i have to say it. he has absolutely no shame around you, which is something he usually suppresses around other people. for the most part his image is the polite, sweet little guy who's a little bit silly, but that goes out the window once he's alone with you. he farts in the living room and starts giggling at you. he doesn't care if you walk in on him doing the weirdest thing in the world because he doesn't see a reason to hide any of it from you. it took a long time to build up to this level of comfortableness with you, but once he's been with you long enough he's a totally open book.

anyway just in general he is a lovely, kind, quietly caring person and people don't always see that about him, but i think he does that on purpose. he only wants to show that side of himself to people he knows will truly appreciate it, and you're the number one person in his life. above everyone else he knows that you'll see him and reciprocate with an equal amount of love in your own ways. he has so much love for his members and friends and family, and a lot of aspects of his personality overlap with those people, but yours is a different kind of love and he has special ways of showing it that only you will understand.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist | @noniestars @photographic-girl @wonderfulshinee @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01

@wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @skzzooyaaa

@zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @synthetickitsune

@simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @fairybinie

@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460

@novalpha @ronnie97b @miriamxsworld @98-0603 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari

@cloecard @valentxi @aaniag @k-drama-adict @hyneyedfiz

@saladgirl @crvs4vldtn @seungkw1 @sashaaahh @aaa-sia

@kokoiinuts @wondipity @isabellah29 @miujunhui @naajaeminsgf

@dokyeomkyeom @honglynights @sourkimchi @kyeomiis @skzooluvr

this is my fourth time trying to post this bc tumblr hates me so sorry for the funky format i couldnt get it to work :( however if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

259 notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 4 months

Note

im needing trouble and frat!peter spider-man suit moment it is in my bones i just neeeeeed it

*cleaning out my inbox.*

'don't you dare come over right now peter.'

'i am so pissed at you. if i see you i'm gonna throw something at you.'

'okay, i wouldn't do that. but i'd be soooo fucking mad.'

ten minutes later and still no response from peter, it doesn't even bother you, you just want him away from you at all costs. your peace was disturbed by an intruder coming in from your window, you almost hit yourself for forgetting to lock it.

you stare at him with crossed arms, 'i told you not to come over.' a gloved finger raises. 'you said 'don't you dare come over right now, peter.' it's been ten minutes and i'm not peter, so, suck it.'

you think your eye twitches, peter spider-man rushes to correct himself. 'not suck it! but, you know, suck it. like, ha! owned you!' you stay silent. 'okay, fine, i shouldn't be making a joke of this. i'm sorry and i really didn't mean to make you upset earlier.'

'you did.' because, the way you see it, he went out of his way to snap at you. 'i didn't. i might've been trying to get a little space, but i didn't mean to upset you.'

'so why didn't you say 'give me some space,'?'

'because i didn't want to hurt your feelings.'

your eyes narrow, 'so you yelled at me?' spider-man thrashes his head, 'that's not-' he lightly tugs at his mask, 'can i take this off?' you scoff at him. 'absolutely not, i told you i didn't want peter to come over.'

'you're going to make me work for this, aren't you?'

you couldn't fight the smirk, you lean into it. 'maybe.' fine with peter, he just needed to know your game. he drops to his knees and clasps his hands together.

'please. i am so, so, so sorry and i love you so, so, so much and i should never, ever, ever talk to you in that tone of voice. you are the light of my life and i should never dull your sparkle.' you snort, he's laying it on thick and you're eating it up.

'the light of your life? who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?'

'i killed him for yelling at you.' it's clear he doesn't see it like that, but you do and peter isn't about to tack semantics onto the argument.

'rude of you to do that before i could, but okay.'

spider-man's a little more authentic this time. 'seriously, trouble. i saw how sad you looked and i feel awful, i didn't mean to sound that angry when i asked you if you had something else to do. i love you a lot and i hate when i make it sound like i don't.'

you might be amplifying it a little. you weren't as mad as you were hurt, you were bored and looking at him for entertainment while he was working on something and you were snipped at. 'you can take your mask off.'

peter resumes his beggar pose. 'i might be exaggerating when i say yelled. but, you hurt my feelings so, suck it.' peter lights up, 'can i get up now?'

when's the next time you'll have him on his knees like this again? 'beg for my forgiveness one more time.' peter pleades like his life depends on it. 'please, please, please, please. i'm so sorry, i'll never do it again. please forgive me.'

you give a blank look before breaking into a smile. 'you can get up.' a quick scramble, peter tugs at the arm of his suit when you stop him with a series of 'uh, uh, uh,''s

'i'm still a little frustrated at peter... do you think spider-man could help me out?' you squeal when a web tugs you into his chest, a wet kiss to your neck has you break out a hum.

'tell me, when has spider-man ever refused a damsel in distress?'

#frat!peter drabbles

245 notes · View notes

subsystems · 5 months

Text

At this point, I don't want anyone following me if they uncritically support The Plural Association. This is full rant mode.

I'm triggered and deeply disturbed by the stuff I see being pumped out by this group under the guise of "inclusivity." I'm sick and tired of TPA stigmatizing systems that are different from themselves. I'm sick and tired of TPA spreading misinformation about systems that are different from themselves. I'm sick and tired of the false promises of resources and lack of transparency.

Instead of listening to systems that are different from them, they make up shit about us to turn our own community hostile towards us. You think systems who are pursuing or achieved final fusion don't see the shit you say about our existence? The misinformation you spread about us? You think systems with CDDs don't see the way you talk about them? You think we don't see you inciting more syscourse on social media?

You think we don't see you manipulating the articles people send you with their lived experiences in order to spread your toxic views?

It's ALWAYS the final fusion hatred. Have you ever asked systems who have actually achieved final fusion whether their ideas about us reflect the recovery we desired?

"It does not allow for personhood" what the fuck does that even mean! Never once during my final fusion process did anyone in my system feel like we weren't seen as or allowed to be people. Never once did our therapist erase or minimize our personhood.

Do you even care that our concept of "personhood" can shift throughout recovery, too? That we collectively pursued final fusion because our personhood felt more authentic and wonderful with fusions? And that we wouldn't fucking voluntarily pursue a recovery option if it felt like it took away from our existence, dehumanized us, or harmed us!

You only give a damn about the systems who fit your narrow little box of "valid." The ones who act and talk in the way YOU want, who heal in the way YOU want, who exist in the way YOU want. But fuck all the other ones, right!

God, sorry for this rant but I am just. So done. Please don't send them any hate or harassment, especially people who aren't even associated with them or got paid to write articles & shared their lived experiences for them. I just sincerely hope for TPA to change.

#sunflower posts #community issues #syscourse tw #the plural association #tpa #look out #ableism tw #misinformation tw #anti-fusion tw #anti-integration tw

189 notes · View notes

kanansdume · 1 year

Text

What's crazy and really shows off how impeccably awful this show managed to be is how DIFFERENT Anakin feels between the Kenobi show and the Ahsoka show, despite the fact that he's being played by the same actor probably within a year of each other if that.

And it's so clearly not the fault of the performer, Hayden Christensen is doing the absolute MOST to give an authentic and familiar performance of Anakin in the Ahsoka show and on a STRICTLY acting standpoint, I think he succeeds. People have pointed out that the Anakin that Hayden is playing in the flashbacks, despite being in the TCW costumes, does not at all feel like TCW Anakin. There's nothing suave or charming about him. When he tries to joke and Ahsoka pushes back against it, he immediately gets defensive, which is perhaps one of the most in-characters thing about the entire performance. And obviously his performance as Sith Anakin is pure perfection.

But it's not just the performance that creates a character. It's the way other people discuss the character, it's the way that character impacts the world around them, it's what we as the audience are allowed to see of them.

In the Obi-Wan show, Anakin at his best is still a whiny little asshole. In the flashback scene, he's arrogant, he's overconfident, he's a little bit of a bully, he's stubborn, and he's a sore loser. It's left a little ambiguous as to whether this scene was a true flashback or something Else, but the dialogue of the scene and who is currently "winning" the match clearly are intended to parallel what's going on in the actual plot between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Which means you can just as easily interpret this as saying that the whiny little asshole you remember from the prequels is still the person behind that mask. Yes, he's got a vocoder changing his voice into something more menacing, his expressions hidden behind an emotionless mask, but that whiny teenager is still calling the shots here. That's precisely what motivates him. Even if it's intended as a more legitimate flashback, that's supposed to be Anakin at his BEST and he's... whiny. He's arrogant. You can say he can grow out of it at this point and that's clearly what Obi-Wan believes in the moment, but the best he's got is... still this.

And he never grew out of it, he never left that arrogance and entitlement behind. He decided to let it define him instead. He might've had promise if he'd chosen to outgrow his more negative traits, but he didn't. He just stayed forever in the mindset of that annoying little 19 year old asshole.

And at his worst, Anakin's a literal unhinged MONSTER. He's casually walking by and murdering innocents just to get Obi-Wan's attention, he's stabbing Reva just because he can, he's ripping open ships, he's burning Obi-Wan alive out of vengeance. His face when that mask comes off has a manic GLEE as he talks about having "killed" himself just to try to manipulate Obi-Wan and the way he screams Obi-Wan's name at the end is so intensely disturbing. So many people saw that moment as Anakin having this moment of mindfulness, but I didn't see or hear a single sane moment in the entire scene. The whole thing is off-kilter and it feels pretty intentionally off-kilter, both in the writing and the acting and directing. Anakin's made his choice. This is it.

In the Kenobi show, Anakin might've once had promise. But he also had immense potential for monstrous evil, that was ALSO there as well. And whatever promise used to be there is now squandered in favor of the arrogance and cruelty and entitlement, which means that it's not worth Obi-Wan's time and effort and energy continuing to wonder what if about it. Because, quite honestly, it doesn't MATTER. Obi-Wan isn't fighting for Anakin anymore by the end. He's not fighting to destroy Anakin, but he's not fighting to save him, either. And the whole point of his relationships with Luke and Leia is that he has to learn to care about them for who THEY are rather than because he cared about their biological parents. He has to see them for who they've become and allow them to grow without worrying about how much like Anakin or Padme they might end up being. They're not Anakin and Padme, they're Luke and Leia, and his relationship with them is ultimately better for letting go of seeing them as anything other than who they actually are.

The people who were in charge of the Kenobi show clearly understood that in order for Obi-Wan to stand on his own as a main character of his own story, they needed to clearly differentiate him from Anakin and FREE him from Anakin. Yes, Obi-Wan is built to be Anakin's narrative foil and has been since day 1. Yes, Obi-Wan's story is very tied up in Anakin's. But this was OBI-WAN'S story and just for this one moment, they could let Obi-Wan be more than just someone who revolves around Anakin. He's his own person who makes his own connections and relationships that have nothing to do with Anakin and he only truly starts to feel like himself again when he walks away from Anakin and leaves him behind and accepts that Anakin has chosen to be someone that Obi-Wan cannot change. No one writing the Kenobi show wanted Obi-Wan to be more IMPORTANT to the narrative than Anakin, but they were able to allow Anakin to take a back seat so that Obi-Wan could actually grow and develop into his own character.

The same cannot be said for the Ahsoka show.

In the Ahsoka show, Anakin is portrayed IMMENSELY positively. At his best, Anakin is a wise powerful sage watching over someone he cares about and pushing her to be better. At his worst, he's... pushing her a little? They MENTION he's intense, and we see visions of him as a Sith, sure, but if that was Anakin at all, then it leaves you with the impression that he only pushed Ahsoka because he cared about her and she needed it and he was ultimately right to do so anyway. Was it tough? I guess, but nothing that would ultimately truly hurt her at all. Anakin's worst sins aren't touched on at all. Anakin is constantly remembered as someone who was GOOD without really acknowledging that while he might've been good at times, he wasn't always. Even when Ahsoka remembers him as a good master, he was still someone who believed in fascism and had massacred an entire village down to the last child. That person Ahsoka remembers was still a bad person and this show desperately wants you to forget that any of that is true about him.

And via proxies like Sabine and Ahsoka herself, this show DEFENDS Anakin's choices across the board. It's not even just that he was a good master, but that he ultimately did the RIGHT THING by choosing Padme over the galaxy because he did it out of "love," turning the genocide of the Jedi into something that was caused by their OWN failures instead of Anakin's failures.

There's zero recognition that Anakin was, ultimately, a failure. He was a failure as a Jedi, a failure as a master, a failure as a husband and a father, and a failure just as a generally good person. Anakin was a bad person who did bad things. Maybe he wasn't always, maybe he had his moments, fine, but overall? What's the legacy he leaves? What are people going to truly remember him for most? Despite his choice to save Luke in his last moments, his impact upon the galaxy is still a net negative.

And Ahsoka can have good memories of him and still recognize that Anakin's impact upon the galaxy was a bad one. She can choose to focus on the good memories she has without pretending like he was in actuality a good master who did nothing wrong. It's not like those two things can't co-exist and that is, in essence, exactly what Obi-Wan has to do. It's why he can say honestly and genuinely tell Leia at the end of the show that her father was "passionate, fearless, and forthright" even though just a day or so ago he'd accepted that Anakin himself had chosen to be an evil person now. He can remember Anakin as the friend he'd cared for AND recognize that the person Anakin is now is not that person anymore. Anakin NOW is evil, Anakin NOW doesn't deserve Obi-Wan's time or focus or grief, Anakin NOW needs to just be let go of. They aren't two separate people, obviously, but people do grow and change, and Obi-Wan once loved Anakin, but the boy Obi-Wan loved is gone because Anakin has chosen not to be that kind of person anymore. He's not kind, he's not compassionate, he's not merciful, or thoughtful or any of the good qualities he used to have. The Kenobi show forces both Obi-Wan and the audience to recognize that no matter how good someone might once have been, it's important to recognize when they're not acting like that person anymore and it's better to let them go and walk away.

And the reason Ahsoka can't do that is because the writers can't. The people in charge of writing Anakin in this show see him so differently than the people who wrote Kenobi. The the writers of the Ahsoka show, Anakin is "the greatest of all of the Jedi," not even just for raw power reasons, but because he understood what love was all about and felt it so deeply. So instead of that love twisting him and being in so many ways his greatest flaw, it turned into his greatest strength, something the Jedi just didn't understand. They're coming at Anakin from a WILDLY opposite direction here and so the way he gets depicted and spoken about comes across so unnervingly different.

You CAN see it as Ahsoka just... viewing Anakin differently. Obi-Wan knew Anakin as a child and was a Jedi Master before the betrayal, so he is more capable of viewing Anakin as the whole of what he was and letting him go. Whereas Ahsoka was a lot younger, she barely got any training before the betrayal, so her perspective on him is intensely skewed by this. She can't truly conceive of Anakin as both the good master she remembers AND the nightmare monster she knows he became, so she just... picks one. She chooses to see him as a good master and that's it. Nothing else he ever did matters. She never has to think about the genocide, the murders, the enslavement, the betrayals. He was a good master, and that's the end of the story. This is the best way she can learn to cope with this particular trauma is to just... ignore it and decide it didn't happen and so her version of Anakin is the ONLY version of Anakin.

But the narrative itself sort-of presents this as the honest truth of Anakin rather than just Ahsoka's perspective on the matter. It's not that Ahsoka just can't cope any other way, it's that this is, legitimately, who Anakin was. Anakin WAS a good master and the fact that he abandoned Ahsoka to die and tried to kill her and genocided her people and desecrated her home apparently doesn't change that at all. Because he did all of it for love. And the fact that Anakin was the "greatest of all the Jedi" because of this means that Ahsoka gets exalted even more so because of that.

But Obi-Wan doesn't need that. He doesn't need to be exalted as better than everyone else, he doesn't need to be made important by manipulating the narrative. He already IS important and the people writing his story know that. He's not important because he's better than Anakin, he's important just because he is. He's baked into this story and can't be removed from it without completely undoing it and telling a totally new story. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are, in some ways, total opposites. Obi-Wan is a massively important character to the narrative who's never been the main character of his own story before the Kenobi show, while Ahsoka spent a long time as the main character of her story but has never and will never be that important to the narrative. She can be added to it and give some extra dimension to it, but she can be pretty easily removed from it, too.

And their relationships to Anakin in their respective shows seem to reflect the way the writers feel about those facts and their understanding of the characters themselves.

#star wars #ahsoka show #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #obi-wan kenobi show #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #filoni critical #dave filoni critical

409 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

See You Everywhere (Secret Admirer pt 3)

Steddie Week 2024, July 3: Long / mutual pining / Holding Me by Warlock

It's still July 3 in my time zone, haha I made it! *lame fist pump*

wc: 3293 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

Darling Steve,

You amaze me on so many counts, not least by thinking I would stop writing to you after that, holy shit, not stupid at all. I see the vision, baby, and I think it’s precious that you’d rather picture me in disguise than imagine me wrong. But, sweetheart, you have to know that there are no wrong answers in these letters. This is much more firmly within my comfort zone than yours, I know, so I will never judge you for anything you write to me.

(Although I am honor-bound to gently, lovingly point out that it’s Bilbo, not Bibo. And I hope your band of gremlins does not end up guiding you to lead a life of crime. Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it might seem without the swords and the magic and the fantastic creatures.)

But I digress. I would happily slink into your bedroom at night, dressed all in black. (I wear a lot of dark colors anyway, so it’s not that much of a stretch.) I’d scale the outside wall up to your bedroom window and silently slip inside. Step softly so as not to disturb you as I approach the bed, where you slumber peacefully in… I want to say, with hope in my heart, nothing but those Hawkins High gym shorts? Nights have been hot lately, that and leaving the window open should help you keep cool. My own costume would be a little warm in this weather but it is, if I am to preserve my secret identity, a necessary sacrifice; one I would willingly make for the privilege of touching you.

Do me a favor, sweetheart, and touch yourself while you read this. Through fabric, if you want to make it authentic, if you imagine me wearing gloves. (So smart for that, baby, because honestly you’d figure out a lot about me just from seeing my hands.) Lay back like a good boy, Steve, and let me make you feel good and pull those shorts down. It’s dark, I could pull up my mask a little bit to use my mouth. Suck you until you’re hard, use my hand for whatever I can’t fit in my mouth because I can tell you’re very gifted in that area. It’s a shame I’d have my hair covered because I like having it pulled, but I could still moan around you while thinking about it.

And baby? I’d swallow.

I’ll leave it there because… to be perfectly honest, I got a little distracted and made a mess of myself. You have no idea what you do to me, Steve, I feel like I’m on top of the world and all I’ve done is take the fantasy you provided and run with it.

Which is embarrassing, because I started writing these letters because I wanted to give you something. You’ve seemed so melancholy ever since last fall and I wanted to let you know that someone sees you and cares. And here I am, selfishly imagining you when I can’t let you do the same, because if you knew who I am I don’t think you’d want me. I’m pretty far outside of your type, judging by anyone I’ve ever seen you with or noticed you show interest in. I listen to music you would probably hate. I don’t like sports, be it playing or spectating. Our high school experiences are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that we practically went to different schools. Your house is a castle and mine a hovel. We have nothing in common but I am filled to bursting with devotion to you that I can’t even.

Do you really want me to continue writing, Steve? I know you’ve asked me to be before, but we’re in new territory here. I know I started it, but I really do feel like it was maybe uncool of me and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

I’ll follow your example and end on a different note. How is it going with your coworker? I don’t have a steady nine to five myself—or the part time version, I guess—but I imagine working with someone who likes to butt heads with you is pretty grating. If it’s an issue, I hope it resolves soon. Wishing you as little stress in your life as possible, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Before you ask, I do recall saying in my last letter that I don’t mind weird. To clarify: I will accept just about any weirdness from you, sweetheart, but it’s different when I do it. Forgive me my dramatics, but at the end of the day, everyone is their own harshest critic.

Eddie is suffering. He’s haunted, too distracted to plan his next campaign or practice guitar—which, incidentally, are the things that usually distract him too much from things like school work or finding a respectable job. All he can think about is Steve, and by inevitable extension Steve’s ninja scenario.

He’d laughed at first, okay? (Before, you know. Getting really, really into it.) Not in a derogatory way, but because it was actually a creative solution to something that a lot of dudes might not even consider a problem.

Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are?

Because, just, Jesus H. Christ. Eddie has fooled around with guys in places out in Indy, and being liked for who he is doesn’t really factor in. So this is… new. He feels almost seen, something that should be impossible while he’s still shrouded in anonymity, and yet Steve seems to be holding space for that veil to be lifted someday.

‘Someday’ suggests a mutual future of some sort, which is sparking a dangerous ember of hope in Eddie’s foolish heart. And in the meantime there’s always the mental image of getting to secretly blow the prettiest boy in Hawkins—

Fuck, he needs to get out of this tin oven of a trailer. He’d put his latest letter in the mail two days ago, then come straight home to jerk off some more and smoke his way into absolute paranoia that this time he’d really blown it. Gone full throttle on that fantasy, then told Steve not to want him, then said something dumb about that girl he works with, and then still mailed it?!

He needs fresh air.

(He goes and checks his PO box.)

Any air.

(No reply yet, but the Hawkins Post Office isn’t known for its speed or efficiency.)

Air conditioning.

It doesn’t surprise him, really, when he ends up pulling his van into the parking lot surrounding Starcourt Mall. Because Steve Harrington is haunting him and will keep doing so matter where he goes, so why not here? Eddie doesn’t even bother to fight the way his feet carry him towards Scoops. Wouldn’t be the first time, after all—Steve’s ass looks great in both green and blue—but he tries not to do it too often.

All he wants is a crumb, a tiny direct interaction with the guy, even if Steve continues to remain none the wiser.

Steve is suffering. Which really grates, because he woke up in a great mood! He’s already working on a reply to the latest letter—once again all stocked up on paper, so he can rewrite it nicer if he makes a mess of it this time. Every time he thinks about it his chest (and, okay, sometimes his dick too, he’s still a teenaged boy) fills up with giddy warmth knowing that his Secret Admirer liked his dumb ninja idea. Specifically said it wasn’t stupid and that they had to stop writing to masturbate about it.

(Girls do that, right? Maybe not as often as dudes, but he really has had phone sex with enough of them to know they’re not necessarily opposed. That wasn’t a clue, Secret Admirer still could be either.)

So today should be going great, but instead he’s felt a headache coming ever since he hopped in his car to drive to work. Too late to take anything for it, though Advil or Tylenol sometimes barely dent in these things. He puts his sunglasses on for the drive and into the mall in the hope that will buy him some time before the worst of it hits.

If only he could stay home, laying in his room as dark as he can make it with a cold washcloth over his eyes and a can of Coke with a crazy straw at the ready. Even better if he could somehow just call and get Secret Admirer to come over to keep him silent company, refreshing the washcloth for him when it gets warm…

“Shades aren’t part of the uniform, cool guy,” Robin says flatly when he walks into Scoops through the back. “I don’t care how hungover you are, company rules.”

“I’m not hungover on a damn Tuesday,” he grumbles back. But maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe the headache will hold off at least until his break, then if he clocks out early at least he still got half a shift’s pay. Maybe if it holds off a little longer after that he’ll be able to get all the way home without being a danger behind the wheel.

He leaves the sunglasses folded on the break room table and starts helping her haul fresh tubs of ice cream from the walk-in to the display case out front.

It’s going to be a long shift.

By the time Eddie gets to Scoops, there’s a line so long it’s practically out the door. Frowning, he checks his watch for the time, something he hadn’t bothered to do in the van, and realizes it’s probably the tail end of the lunch rush. Super.

Steve and the girl he works with are both behind the counter, taking turns scooping and ringing up each individual customer or group and then cycling back around to help the next in line. As he waits, Eddie watches from behind the cover of his long hair and realizes that Steve seems off today. He keeps squinting under the fluorescent lights, distracted, sometimes asking people to repeat themselves to both their and his coworker’s obvious annoyance. But it’s not until some kid shrieks that she asked for double fudge chunk and he’s scooping regular chocolate that Steve winces and brings his shoulders up like he’s trying to cover his ears, and oh. Oh, Eddie thinks he knows what this is.

Sometimes I get these headaches that really mess me up. It doesn’t just hurt, it’s like all the lights get way too bright and sometimes my eyes go blurry for a while. Great parting gift from the concussion. Ice cream helps sometimes though, which is convenient if I’m at work.

The tiniest amount of research at the library (or, in fact, two afternoons in a row) had told Eddie that this could be anything from migraines to a brain tumor, but given the concussion the former is more likely. If Steve is having one of those, this is probably the worst place for him to be: loud, bright, and enough people crowded into the ice cream parlor that even with mall air conditioning it feels lukewarm in here, when what he needs is quiet, dark, and a cold compress. And this is not the kind of place where he can just throw up and take a nap—not without the risk of getting in trouble, maybe fired.

Eddie knows that Steve is going to keep trying to power through it, because he knows all about how the guy is saving up to move out of his parents’ house. (Castle… Oh god, he’d called it a castle in his last letter, why had he done that? He knows that Steve wants out of there, wants somewhere cozy and lived-in as opposed to his mother’s taste in cool and impersonal decor.)

There’s nothing he can do but wait as the line inches forward. As a slight tremor starts to show in Steve’s hands, which Eddie is watching like a hawk. By the time Eddie, still last in line, is within touching distance of the display case it’s a full on shake, and Steve fumbles his ice cream scoop trying to spin it into the side loop on his apron.

The clatter is loud against the background elevator music version of a The Beach Boys song. Steve’s coworker—Robin, according to her name tag—looks up sharply at the sound, but an uncertain kind of concern seeps into her frown when she gets a good look at him. “Steve? You alive over there?”

Steve, who has gone very pale, gives a slight shake of his head that seems to make his whole body sway. “Need a clean scoop. I’ll just… run to the back,” he manages, then stumbles towards the swinging doors marked Employees Only. There’s a choked noise as soon as he’s out of sight, and Robin seems to come to the same conclusion as Eddie: he won’t be back for a while.

To her credit, she puts on a passably bright fake smile at the lady Steve had been helping, taking her mostly finished cup from the counter where Steve had left it and adding the requested chocolate syrup on top.

Finally, it’s Eddie’s turn. But now he’s the one who’s distracted, trying to squint through the frosted glass of the window to the back room for any sign of Steve moving around.

“What can I get you, Munson?” Robin asks loudly, a little annoyed as though it’s not the first time she’s asked. Oops.

He also feels a little bad that he didn’t recognize her when she obviously knows him, likely from his lunchtime cafeteria soapbox spectacles, but ever since the first time he’d failed senior year he’d tuned out on all the rising underclassmen besides Steve pretty hard.

Eddie orders while glancing towards the window again and fiddling with the chain attached to his belt loop. “Actually, make that two cones. One for me and one to cheer up your fellow at sea.”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “You, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, want to buy Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington an ice cream cone?”

He shrugs, something inside him shriveling because, yeah, that would seem weird from an outsider’s perspective, the way he usually rails against the jocks. Maybe he’s a little bit of a hypocrite in his affections, but whatever Steve was in high school he’s actually a massive sweetheart now. “Yeah, well. You know Hargrove gave him a concussion last year? King Steve may have been a douchebag to us commoners, but at least he’s not as bad as that piece of shit.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, but finishes scooping into the first cone and reaches for a second. “Are you sure there wasn’t some house party he was at last night? Everyone knows he got that title from being Keg King.”

It feels stupid to go to high school parties when I’m not in high school anymore. They’re too loud and just a couple of beers hit me like a brick because of my stupid messed up head. Partying used to be a good outlet but I can’t do it anymore.

“Nah,” Eddie dismisses immediately, mind scrambling for a reason he can give for being so certain. “Nothing last night, or I would’ve been there. You know, for business purposes.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “By the way, if you ever need a little relief from the grind of dealing with shitty customers…”

It feels sleezy, and isn’t something he usually does, but it helps sell it.

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” Robin says quickly, and moves to the register. “That’s three dollars and fifty cents.”

“Don’t forget the sprinkles,” he reminds her while digging the money out of his pocket. With that handed over and sprinkles dumped on, he takes his one cone and gestures grandly to the other. “And maybe don’t mention to his Highness that that was from me. It’d be a shame if he had the same reaction as you and simply tossed away good ice cream.”

That would crush him, actually. So even though he wants so, so badly to stay, he forces himself to leave before he tries to eavesdrop, just to be safe.

“Steve?”

Startled, Steve jolts upright from where he’d been slumped in one of the break room chairs, wet paper towel sliding off his face and landing in his lap. The motion makes his head throb harder, and it’s all he can do to swallow down a groan. “Huh?” he grunts, eyes only open enough to make out Robin’s general shape.

“Why’d you turn the lights off back here?” she asks, quieter this time. He can’t make out her tone at all through the sharp pain threatening to burst out of his skull, but he’s grateful for the lower volume. And that she doesn’t turn the lights back on.

“‘S not a hangover,” he mumbles. Which, maybe he missed a step in that explanation. It was there in his head somewhere, surely she’ll make the connection? Or maybe just think he’s got some sort of stomach flu, since he totally threw up in the break room trash can. Hopefully in it. He’s… pretty sure he didn’t miss.

“I’m getting that.” Very gently, Robin takes his hand and wraps it around an ice cream cone. “Here. Generous donation from a concerned citizen who shall remain nameless.”

Steve blinks down at the strawberry ice cream in a cone with rainbow sprinkles.

Either this is the biggest coincidence in the world, or Secret Admirer was here.

Suddenly his eyes are silently streaming, because he could use that comforting presence right about now. It shines through on every page—this overwhelming care that he’s never felt from anyone else, not even Nancy. Whoever it is must have remembered the one time he’d mentioned in one of his reply letters that ice cream helps his headaches sometimes.

Steve cries because he wishes they would’ve just brought it themselves and done away with the mystery because he so, so longs to feel like someone’s in his corner now. Someone to give him a hug and rub just above his temples, which sometimes helps too. He takes a lick of the ice cream and chews on sprinkles and the tears come a little faster because he wants.

“Oh shit,” Robin whispers, dropping into the seat across from him. “Are you crying? Steve—Steve, it’s okay, if you’re not feeling up to it I’m not gonna make you go back out there again. Especially not if you’re likely to ralph on the customers but, like, mostly because I’d feel like an asshole. I mean, I heard the rumors about you getting a concussion and that’s why you quit the basketball team and swim teams, but…” She hesitates, holding her hands up like he’s a bomb that she’s worried might explode in her face. “Just, it’s okay. You stay back here and I’ll finish the rest of the shift, you don’t even have to clock out. I’ll handle it.”

For a moment, with hurt in his head and an ache in his heart and strawberry flavor on his tongue, Steve thinks it could be her. Maybe Robin is his Secret Admirer and it was her own idea to scoop this cone for him. But then she leaves, and that doesn’t feel right either.

Steve is haunted by a faceless, nameless person that he’s probably crossed paths with without knowing god knows how many times. Or rather, by their absence.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington

129 notes · View notes