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

[yoohyeon]

Mutuals read this please👇

[strawberrysturniolo]

chris and the reader hate eachother but end up having to share a hotel bed

just tonight // chris sturniolo

summary: a trip with your friends turns into a hotel reservation mishap and having to share a bed with someone you hate part 2

It’s no secret that Nick Sturniolo is my best friend.

It’s no secret that Matt Sturniolo is like a brother to me.

And it is no fucking surprise to anyone how knows me and the youngest Sturniolo that Chris Sturniolo is the one person above all that makes me want to rip my hair out strand by strand. 

I don’t even know how it all happened. It’s like it was meant to be. I don’t remember a time in my life where me and Chris Sturniolo weren’t bickering, throwing shit at each other, or calling each other foul insults. 

To others, it is another form of entertainment to see our arguments in person, but to Nick and Matt, it’s the bane of their existence. 

Their brother is mine. 

Which is why I am more than shocked to hear that the four of us are heading on a trip to San Diego with no one else to help break up fights. 

With Matt driving us, Chris sits in the passenger seat, blasting music that no one has a say on. Matt bops his head to a few songs, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with one, Chris changes it mid song.

“Hang on, I have a better one,” he says every single time. 

Nick sits next to me, half asleep with chunky headphones over his ears, blocking out the sound of his brother’s music taste. I wish I could say I’m doing the same, but my airpods died 20 minutes into the drive, so I’m stuck in the backseat staring out the window, contemplating throwing myself onto the highway at 80 miles per hour.

We make a few stops along the way despite it being only around a two hour drive. 

The first was for some food. 

The second was because Chris ran out of his drink and insisted that he needed to stop for more.

The third was because Chris decided to dump his drink on me, so I had to change into something I had packed.

The fourth was because Chris then faced his consequences and had nothing to drink, making Matt stop again. He promised he wouldn’t spill it this time.

Then a fifth time because Chris had to pee. 

When we finally arrived at the hotel, we dragged our few bags inside and made our way to the front desk.

“Hi,” Nick said to the woman. His eyes were droopy as he had just woken up, so he rubbed them a bit before continuing. “It’s under Sturniolo. Four rooms on the same floor.”

The young woman’s eyebrows cinched together, almost like she was worried she had made a mistake. 

“The reservation is for three rooms,” she says instead, making Chris step forward like he is going to correct her. “And they are on different floors.”

“Woah, woah,” Chris interrupts, shaking his head. “I know you’re just doing your job, but we definitely put in four rooms. I don’t think anyone minds that we are on different floors, but we’re going to need a fourth room if that’s what we paid for.”

The woman’s eyes scatter across her screen before she frowns slightly. “I’m really sorry, but we don’t have any other rooms available.”

Chris spins around, tossing his hands up slightly. “What are we going to do?”

“Why can’t one of you share a room?” I suggest the obvious.

Nick jumps in first. “If you guys want me to edit all your shit, then I need my own room. I won’t be able to focus and get it done if there’s someone else.”

“Okay,” I nod, knowing he has work to do. “Then Chris can stay with Matt.”

Chris’ face scrunches in disgust. “No way. He snores.” 

I roll my eyes at his childish answer. “We don’t have any other options right now.”

“One of us is going to half to share with her,” Matt concludes. Chris makes a face as if to say ‘Not me!’

I scoff at how they’re talking about me while I’m standing right here. “Hello! Why can’t I get my own room since I’m the only girl!”

I’m ignored.

“Let’s play rock paper scissors for the room,” Matt suggests, making Chris roll up his sweatshirt sleeves as if he’s preparing. 

Matt wins. 

Chris’ eyes shoot open. “Best two out of three.” 

“Nope,” Matt says as he grabs his room key off the desk and heads to the elevator. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I mumble, walking behind Chris and following him to our shared room. 

I would have been quiet so Nick could work, but he was so adamant about being alone that I never even got the chance to suggest that alternative. This stupid room situation is just the fucking icing on the cake after the car ride with Chris. It’s no surprise that my luck would put me in the same room as him somehow. 

I brace myself for when Chris opens the door, expecting only one thing because it’s the obvious, but I still pray for a miracle. 

No miracle.

There’s one bed. 

I toss my bags on the bed before he can. “Dibs,” I call out immediately.

Chris kicks his shoes off. “That’s not fair. How are you gonna dibs a bed? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

I point to the balcony. “Out there. Just pray a rabid squirrel doesn’t bite you while you sleep.” 

He fake smiles at me. “Very funny. You’re lucky I’m too fucking tired after the ride to argue with you.” He flashes his phone screen at me, revealing the time. 2:12 a.m. We left at night to try to beat any traffic and so we could have an extra full day in San Diego. “Let’s just go to bed and hope we’re too tired to realize what a shitty situation this is.” 

I dig out some clothes from inside a duffel bag I brought, trying to find something to wear as pajamas. Since I was under the assumption I would be in my own room, I didn’t pack any pajama shorts or even athletic shorts that would do the job. I usually just sleep with a big shirt and underwear, and this was certainly not what I was anticipating. 

I let out a sigh and turn around to face Chris. I hate asking for his help. 

“Do you have any shorts or sweatpants I can wear to bed?”

He looks at me like he’s confused by my question. His tiny brain cells can usually only handle sentences with five words or less.

“Why didn’t you pack any?” he asks me instead. 

“Because I normally sleep half naked, which I’m not doing with you here. So can I please wear shorts or something of yours to bed?” 

He grins. “Say please again and maybe I’ll think about it.” 

“I’ll scrub the toilet with your toothbrush while you sleep,” I threaten. 

He reaches down and tosses me a pair of his boxers. “I would give you basketball shorts but they wouldn’t fit you. Plus I only have my celtics ones and they’re too nice for you to fuck up.” 

I take his boxers and stand with my clothes in my hands, looking at him. 

He looks at me like he has a problem with me. “Do you need anything else?” he says in a snippy tone. 

“Go to the bathroom,” I instruct him. 

“Why?”

“So I can change?” I say as a question, shocked and confused at how stupid he can be sometimes. 

He rolls his eyes and crouches to his bag. “I’m not fucking looking. Just change.”

In an attempt to withhold us from fighting in the first ten minutes of us being here, I sigh and turn around, facing the curtains covering the window. I peel my shirt off and toss it on a chair, putting on an old t-shirt instead. I turn around quickly, making sure Chris isn’t watching. He’s sitting on his phone. I yank my pants off and tug on his boxers before he has a chance to peek.

“You done?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’ll go to the bathroom so you can change.” 

I grab my toiletries bag so I can brush my teeth and wash my face while I’m in there, but as I make my way to the door, Chris steps in front of me. Looking at me, he pulls his shirt off from over his head. “That’s all I have to do. Now I’m dressed for bed.”

Do not look at his body. Do NOT look at his body.

“I still have to go to the bathroom,” I say anyway. 

He gestures his hands to my destination and follows me in, brushing his teeth alongside me and watching me as I do my skincare. Before I have a chance to snap at him and tell him to go away, he does just that. I almost ask him why he did leave, throwing myself off. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

He’s laying on our bed. I have to remind myself that this is just a shitty situation before sliding in next to him, still keeping a distance. We sit in silence for some time, both of us still scrolling aimlessly on our phones, trying to distract ourselves so we don’t have to talk. Finally, I have enough of the silence, and I am suddenly on the hunt for answers.

I turn over in bed, now facing him. He side eyes me as he notices my change in position. “Do you need something else?” he asks.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

He lowers his phone from his gaze momentarily as he thinks. He settles on, “You’re mean to me too.”

“It’s different,” I argue.

“This is just how I am,” he continues. “I act this way with my brothers. Maybe you’re just not used to it yet.” 

“It’s still different, Chris.”

He shrugs, not saying anything else, so I do.

“I feel like we could get along well but you don’t give me the chance. You never noticed we have the same taste in music and a lot of other similar interests? It’s like you don’t want to admit we could have something in common and I don’t know why.”

“I’m not petty like that,” he says instead. “I’m not going to blow you off because I don’t want us to have the same interests.”

“Then what is it,” I continue to push him. 

“Can you just shut up and go to bed?” he snaps.

I seriously couldn’t have had a worse roommate. 

I turn over, finding myself back in silence. 

“Are you going to need my boxers every night while we’re here?” he asks. 

“I mean, this is all I’ve got, so yeah,” I answer without turning around. 

It’s silent for a good 30 seconds before Chris breaks it. 

“Why don’t you just keep them?”

My eyebrows furrow, my expression bold even though he can’t see my face. “Why?”

“They look good,” he mumbles.

“Huh?” 

“You heard me.”

“I literally didn’t doofus that’s why I said huh?”

“I said they look good on you!” 

My stomach flips.

Motherfucker. 

“You want me to keep them?” I ask for clarification.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he defends. “Don’t try to make it something it’s not. But even if I was trying to turn it into something else, you know you look good.”

Oh my god.

No, he needs to stop. 

I turn around so I can face him again. “You think I look good?”

He rolls his eyes so hard this time that his head shifts. “Oh shut up.”

The more I stare at him to try to dissect his answer, the more I see his face turning a darker shade of red. 

“Oh my god! You’re blushing!” I tease.

He sits up straight. “Am not!” 

“You are too!” I laugh, pointing at him.

He smacks my hand away. “Stop it!”

Everything suddenly clicks. Every time he was mean to me. Every time he called me names. 

But there were also the times he would stand in a corner with eyes shooting daggers when I would talk about a guy.

Everything makes sense. 

“You like me,” I piece together.

“Do not,” he lies. “You wish.”

“I don’t have to wish because you do!”

“You’re being childish,” he says, bold coming from him. 

“Just admit it so I can go to bed.”

Without an answer he shoves his hand into my shoulder, pushing me away from him. I do the same back, but when I expect him to do it again, he grabs my wrist and yanks me towards him instead.

We both halt before our faces touch.

I watch him gulp.

“Tell me not to do it,” he practically begs.

I know exactly what he’s talking about. I know we shouldn’t but I sort of just want to know what would happen. Would anything come out of it? Would we both decide it was stupid and we won’t talk about it ever again and swear it won’t leave this hotel room.

“I could do it instead,” I suggest.

He clearly doesn’t expect this from me. His eyes were somewhere else until I finished my sentence. That’s when they flew to meet mine. 

He gives me one last look before grabbing my cheeks and pulling me into him. I fall forward, wrapping my arms around him for support before my lips settle into his. We mesh together perfectly, a long peck before our lips part and he’s trying to snake his tongue into my mouth. I let him, and I don’t even notice when one of my hands rakes through his hair. 

One of his hands drifts down my body, clinging to my waist. His thumb plays with the band of his own underwear hugging my body. 

I don’t know how long we have been doing this. All I’m focusing on is the few sounds that come out of our mouths, little moans and deep breaths, others being the sound of our lips fighting for dominance. Then there’s the sound of slight creaks in the bed as we shift around.

I’m caught by surprise when he pulls me into his lap, but thank god he does. I don’t move around on him. I don’t grind my hips into his. I don’t try to feel how big he is underneath his clothing.

I sit there with my arms around him, a lustful makeout turning into soft kisses again as he holds my cheeks, his thumbs stroking my face. 

I pull away for a moment to catch my breath, and I watch his face fall.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I shouldn’t have done that. Oh my god that was so fucking stupid.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, but all I’m focused on is how his biceps flexed in the process.

I pull his arms back down, a measly excuse to have my hands on the toned muscle, but also to comfort him. “Hey, it’s fine. Why don’t we just go to bed, and we can talk about this tomorrow?” 

He takes a moment to think before he nods, placing a kiss on my cheek before letting me lay down next to him. Our backs face each other. We both stare at the wall in our direction, our heads clouded with thoughts. 

After some time, when I was positive he was asleep, I feel the bed shift as he flips over, his body now facing the same way as mine. 

His pinky hooks with mine in the softest grip. 

I let his hand linger, taking it slow before I drive this car off a cliff.

I face him, looking down at his chest before I place my head on it and kick my leg to lay over his. Our bodies cling to each other immediately. He holds me like he’s scared of letting go.

I can’t get over how good this feels. Just laying here with him.

But I also know tomorrow could be a shit show after these events, so I have just tonight to bask in this before it all goes to shit. 

[rowenablade]

Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve Harrington sucks at kissing.

It’s something everyone in school knows. The King can’t kiss to save his life. He’s motionless, emotionless. It’s like kissing a brick wall.

And yes, he makes up for it in other ways, ways that let all the girls he’s with get past the weird kissing thing. Nancy’s not big on PDA anyway, so minimum kissing is fine with her.

The rumors spread, though. Girls talk to their friends about how they try to “teach” him to kiss, giving him gentle instructions murmured against his lips, to no avail. The movements are flat, jerky, like he’s being puppeted around on marionette strings.

He just can’t do it.

Robin teases him about it exactly once, early on in their Scoops Ahoy careers. But she sees how sad it makes him, sees how he twists the strand of hair by his ear around and around his finger (a nervous habit of his that she learns about much later), and resolves to never talk about it again. If only to get him to stop looking like she dropkicked his puppy into an active volcano.

When Steve starts dating Eddie, they don’t kiss much. Eddie’s not experienced, and he’s also not stupid. He heard the rumors in high school. The last thing he wants is for Steve to be forced into doing something he doesn’t want to do. And it’s really okay. Steve’s good with his hands (like, obscenely good), and he treats Eddie like a person, not a prize or a target. Bar’s low, but Steve’s still hurtling over it.

So it’s about half a month into their relationship when they kiss for the first time.

Eddie graduates, and Steve just gets so excited he yanks Eddie down an empty corridor in the school, picks him up by the waist and spins him around like a Disney princess.

And then he kisses him.

Eddie’s long hair is falling like a curtain around their faces, blocking out the whole world until it’s just them. Steve’s lips are warm, slotted perfectly against Eddie’s own, and his hands are braced around Eddie’s waist. Eddie feels his diploma fall from his hands, and he weaves his hand into Steve’s hair and tilts his head up, kissing him deeper.

Steve breaks away just then. Eddie chases Steve’s mouth with his own on instinct.

“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly.

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Eddie demands in a harsh whisper. “I thought you were bad at kissing!”

“I am!” Steve says. “I got excited, sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Why not?” Eddie says indignantly. “That was by far the best kiss I have ever had. Did you not like it?”

Steve looks like he’s running on autopilot. “No, it was amazing, I just… everyone says I’m bad at kissing. I didn’t want to make you kiss me.”

Eddie drags him close, slams him against the wall like he did in the boathouse, except this time with significantly more horny undertones. “You should keep that reputation.” Eddie says in a low tone. “I think no one else, but me, gets to know how good of a kisser you are.”

“Works for me,” Steve says, breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips, and that’s all the invitation Eddie needs to dive back in.

They end up scarring Robin when she comes looking for them, but that’s alright.

[garoujo]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— emmie :)

[spncvr]

waiting room | s. reid

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

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

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

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

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

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

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

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

[sublimetragedychopshop]

Player yandere!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[leahsgirl]

blind date | leah williamson x reader

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

leah smiled “me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dulcesiabits]

how to let you go.

summary: in every life, casper is sent to take your soul as punishment.

notes: 2.4k words, author's notes, angst, casper calls reader beautiful if anyone doesn't like that descriptive term

You were still as beautiful as the day Casper lost you.

This was his punishment, born for centuries. It was also his salvation, to see you again, as radiant as life itself, your mouth crinkling into a smile, and your easy, effortless movements. To you, this was just another day, where you were young and careless and so sure of your own life, as if not even jealous death could steal you away. 

Before Casper had undergone his mission, his coworkers had asked if he would be able to recognize you. Their eyes crinkled in that familiar gesture of pity, apprehension, and slight condescension, as they had looked at him for the past hundreds of years since his initial sin.

“Even if their soul is the same, they’re going to look different. They won’t even remember you,” one had said. “They might not even love you again. What’s the point?”

“I still love them,” he said shortly, standing abruptly. “And their soul is mine to take. That’s the point.”

His coworkers had shook their heads. A hopeless case, they called him. “He used to be the best, and look what happened. He went and fell for his own target.”

Let them talk. The gossip had never abated no matter how many years passed. No one would understand, and he didn’t need them to.

Now, Casper watched you walk below from his perch on a nearby roof. You were so beautiful. Where were you off to? Perhaps to see a friend. Or back off to your apartment. There was a drink in your hand, which made his mission that much easier if he had an excuse to talk to you. He absorbed the sight of you for only a few seconds more. Time to start.

He leapt down softly, just a few paces in front of you, and unveiled his glamor. With no room to maneuver around him, you bumped into him, your drink sloshing onto his shirt. Tea soaked into his clothes, and you stumbled backwards– though he grabbed your arm before you could fall.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry,” you said. “Are you okay? I should have been more careful.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s not like I got burnt.”

“Let me make it up to you. I think there’s a laundromat nearby– uh, how much did your shirt cost? I think stains don’t show that much on black fabric, but I could pay if you needed me to.” 

“Are you sure you could afford it?” he said, eyebrows raising.

You chuckled nervously. “Well… maybe not… Still! I’d like to make it up to you! Here, let me give you my number.” You fished a pen out from your bag, but groaned. “Shit, I don’t have any paper in here.”

“Just write it on my hand,” he said, holding out his hand, palm out.

“Okay. Okay, let me do it.” You pressed the pen lightly to his skin, scribbling your number on his palm. “I live close by, so if you ever want to meet up to talk about this some more…”

“So do I,” Casper said. “In fact, I live in that building over there.” He pointed to a squat apartment building on the block, and your eyes widened.

“No way! I live there, too. We’re neighbors,” you said admiringly. “What a coincidence.”

Casper smiled, as if he hadn’t arranged to live in your building himself. “I suppose so.”

You nodded. “It’s like fate. Like we were meant to meet, or something.” You flushed. “Oh, I’m not trying to hit on you or anything– unless, you’d like that? Ah– Sorry. I literally just knocked my drink all over you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he murmured, his own ears turning pink. “If it was from you.”

“How flirtatious,” you said, fanning yourself with your hand. Cute.

“I’m not normally this forward with strangers. Maybe it’s just you,” he said.

You wiggled your eyebrows. “So I’m special? That’s really nice to hear. You know how to charm a person.”

Ah, here it was again: your smile. Your laughter. Your teasing. This was what his coworkers didn’t understand; Casper would have plunged into despair, again and again, if only for your touch to lift him right back out of it.

—

The next few weeks passed in a haze of happiness. This was his respite: the moments between meeting you and taking your soul, when he could just bask in your warmth like the sun. After the initial meeting, you opened up to him like a flower. Though he had to initiate the first few meetings, after a while, it was you who badgered him constantly to come over to watch a new show, or just to have dinner together.

“This is like, weird, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for a long time,” you confided in him once. “I know we didn’t even meet that long ago, but you feel familiar to me. Is that crazy to say?”

“I think you’re just hitting on me,” he accused. “Just say you were captivated by my endless charm.”

“Charm?” you scoffed, batting a pillow at him. “What charm? You’re so full of yourself.”

“You’re into it,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “You wish. I just put up with you so I can hang out with Azrael!” To emphasize your point, you picked up his plushie, hugging him tight to your chest.

“Hey! Azrael is mine,” he complained, and you burst into laughter as he tried to gently tug the plushie out of your grip.

For a beautiful few weeks, he could exist by your side, like an ordinary mortal man would do for the one he loved. Casper drank in your smile, the easy way the two of you fell into routine. He had done this a thousand times, and each time, it was as effortless as two puzzle pieces slotting in together. The only place he truly belonged was by your side, and each time, though your body didn’t remember, your soul did. 

“Casper!” He heard you before he saw you. You ran and tackled him in a hug, arms wrapping his waist. He staggered under your weight, before effortlessly wrapping his arms around you and righting himself. His heart pounded under the proximity of your warmth and nearness.

“You almost killed me,” he said.

“You survived!” 

“What’s with the rush?” he asked, raising a hand to stroke circles on your back. You were in the apartment hallway, and he lowered his voice in case someone could hear.

“Eh… I can’t just hug you because I like you?”

“There’s always another motive with you,” he said.

“Well…” you pulled back, batting your eyelashes at him mischievously. “I can’t just miss you?”

“Ah, now we’re talking sense. You just couldn’t stay away from me.”

Your eyes turned serious. “Well, what if I couldn’t? What if I liked being by your side?”

His hands stilled. Your gaze stirred a storm in his heart. As it had before, and as it would in the future. “Then I would say that… I wouldn’t dislike that.”

“You should just be honest and say that you like spending time with me,” you teased.

He let out a little sigh, heat rising to his face. “Maybe I do.”

What was he to do? Was there any way to prolong this moment, to stretch it into infinity, so he could hold you for the rest of time?

—

Like any dream, his time with you had to come to an end. And like with every dream, Casper had to shatter it to pieces with his own hands.

On a starlit night, after you had convinced him to sneak onto the roof with you (“It’s easy! They leave the rooftop door unlatched!”), your face remained immobile in the darkness as he confessed his sins to you. 

“I was sent to take your soul,” he explained calmly. “I’ve always been sent to kill you, to reap your soul, in every life. It’s my punishment, you could say.”

Your lips parted, unbelieving. “Punishment? For what?”

“For loving you,” he said. “And for you returning my affections.”

“That’s not fair.”

“There’s no fairness in life. The only fairness is in death.”

In the darkness, he can’t make out your expression, but the light reflects in your eyes like miniature suns.

“So you’ve had to kill me, just because we fell in love? That’s not okay,” you protested. “How… how many times have you and I…?”

Casper looked up at the sky, as if the stars could tell him the answer. They only winked down coldly at him. “I’ve lost count. It’s been hundreds of years.”

“Hundreds...” you said. “And you… you say you’ve loved me all that time? Why? I mean, I can’t be the same person as you first fell for. Why would you do all of this for me?”

“Because it’s you,” he said simply. “I’ll always fall in love with you, even if I try to stay away. In every life, in every time, I’ll make that decision.”

“You must have been lonely,” you said. You hugged him, pulling him into your arms. You felt like a lighthouse, mooring him in the dark waters of the night.

“Aren’t you mad at me? I just confessed to killing you in every life.”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’m just thinking that this sucks. This sucks so fucking much, but I… I’ve always felt like I’ve known you, ever since we met. I guess that feeling makes a lot more sense now.” You took a breath, as if you were steeling yourself. “And, you know what, this is crazy, but I think something in me has always been waiting for you. It’s like something just clicked when you showed up. But even if it wasn’t for our freaky soul connection, I chose this, you know?” You ran a hand lovingly through his hair, delicately kissing a strand. “I chose to love you.”

“Then what do you want to do?” he whispered. Here it was again, the choice he offered you in every life.

“Let’s run away,” you said resolutely. “Let’s run away for as long as we can. I want to stay with you. I mean, you’ve been waiting for me forever, right? Then we have to make the most of this time.”

And there it was, the answer that never wavered, no matter how many times he asked you this question. Your answer glittered like a precious gem which Casper held reverentially. No matter who you became, or what happened, your soul remained the same. You always chose him.

“You’ll still die in the end,” he warned. “No one lives forever. They will send people after us.”

“Then let them. I mean…” you pulled the lapels of his jacket, so you could stare into his eyes. “You know what, Casper? Being loved so much by death is kinda romantic. Besides, if I’m gonna die anyways, I might as well enjoy myself. If someone has to take my soul, then I want it to be you, okay? No one else.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and then you kissed him, and it felt like a thousand galaxies bursting to life in his heart. Overhead, a star streaked across the sky like a tear.

Casper already knew how your story would end. It would end as it had done a thousand times before, with the two of you being caught, upon which he would be forced to take your soul yet again. But in this endlessly repeating cycle, all that truly mattered was this moment: your lips on his, and a kiss that burned brighter than the sun.

—

In the first life, in your final moments, you had looked at him so tenderly, even though he had been the one who doomed you. You, who had been loved by death, had paid the price for it.

“I’m going to curse you,” you whispered. You held his hands in a way he had never deserved, clutching them close to you like a lifeline.

“Sunshine…” he said. You were the ones clinging on to his hands, but he was the one who tightened his grip, because this was the only road that led to you. Tears fell, against his will, splattering onto your face. 

“My cute little reaper…” you said weakly. “You’re not allowed to forget me, do you understand? No matter who else you kill. No matter who you met. Even if you fall in love again. You have to remember me. Carry me with you everywhere, do you understand?”

“Why are you saying this to me?” Casper whispered. His voice shook, as fragile as a spring bud which had sprouted during the winter, with no protection from the frost. A sprout, always reaching for the sky above, even as its roots numbed and its leaves blackened, because what else was there to do, but long for what one couldn’t have?

You smiled like the sun, even when your life was draining out of you. “Because I’m cursing you, silly. If you kill me now, then I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life. You’re mine.”

You let out a strangled breath, and it was time for you to go. Casper tugged the last of your soul out of your body. There was a slight resistance, as if your soul was still clinging to its home, before like strings snapping, your soul slipped pliantly into his hands. You jerked, eyes shuttering closed, your mouth slack, like an empty house with no one to warm its halls any longer.

Still, Casper tugged your body closer to him, arms wrapping around you, as if his cold skin could somehow prevent your skin from cooling. As if, with enough force, he could tether you to him again.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, even as your head lolled back. “I’m yours, Sunshine. I promise. So haunt me. Don’t let me forget you. Curse me, again and again. You’re so selfish. So, so selfish.” His hands trembled, and he placed a feather light kiss on your lips. “You’ve claimed me, so you better make good on your words. You– you have to come back. No matter what.”

A kiss, then another. He would be punished. He knew this. You would be punished, too. But no matter if a hundred years passed, or a thousand, Casper would never forget you. Even if your bones turned to dust. Even if your name was lost to history. Even if no one remembered that you existed, and the earth forgot the touch of your steps, he would love you. He would love you, and chase you to the ends of eternity. 

For he was death, and you were his mortal, and this was how death loved best.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

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

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

-🎸-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🍦-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

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

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

“…huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

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

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

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

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

-🎸-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Kay.”

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

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

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

“What the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

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

“Don’t hold your breath.”

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

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

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

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, so you do remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

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

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

-🍦-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Not likely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

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

-🎸-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

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

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie!” Nope.

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

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

-🍦-

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

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

“Eddie?”

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

“Where’ve you been, man?”

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

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

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

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

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

“It was CPR, Steven!”

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

“My name’s not Edwa—”

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

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

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

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

this is also on AO3!

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

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

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Hello I love your writing so much

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

Thank you so much!!

Toxic traits.

Warning: Angst, crying, panic attack, mean Chan

Summary: as requested ^

Pairing: reader x Ot8

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad don’t say that-“

“Well it’s the truth.”

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

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

“Nothing-“

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

“Chan I was just trying to-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just go to the gardens,” Felix suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kagscore]

𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gojotojis]

Butterfly pt. 1

part two

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

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

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

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

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

April

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally block him but the damage is done.

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

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

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

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

Beginning of August

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mid August

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home, you have to go home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When morning comes, you’re gone.

September

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That happen often?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bookstore,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of September

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says.

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

“What are you doing?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October

Gojo: song?

you: Haunted by Beyonce

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

you: how so

Gojo: only a fed would know all my favorite songs

you: you sound crazier than pearl

Gojo: utterly insane

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

Mid October

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

You: song of the century

Read at 8:08pm

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

It’s nice having a friend again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of October: Halloween

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

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

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

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

“Should we call someone?” The woman asks.

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

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

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

“Scarwit bitch” you slur and he laughs.

“Scarlett Witch?” He asks and you nod.

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

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

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Thanks Toru,” you whisper.

November

Gojo: you hungry?

You: yes…

Gojo: what do you want to eat?

You: pizza, meat lovers and Hawaiian.

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

Gojo: in or out?

You: in

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asks with his brows raised.

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

“Just asking,” you say innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[minniesmutt]

♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 

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

     “So, I fucked a mafia boss?”

     “More or less,” Changbin replied

     “That’s kinda hot,” Y/n shrugged

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Chan,” Changbin said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Fuck Chrissy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Yes, now go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Thought you didn’t bring others home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Oh shit. Where was mine?” Y/n asked

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

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

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

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

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

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

     Y/n smiled at him. 

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

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

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

     “Karina seems like a bitch,” Chan noted

     “She’s been worse.” Y/n sighed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Being you’re fuck toy isn’t a job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Do you own the building too?”

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

     “Sounds like fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Got it, boss,” Jisung said

     “I told her about the arrangement as well.”

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

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[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 8:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Canon violence. Bad decisions.

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“Okay, let’s go over the plan one more time,” you said quietly.

Omega nodded, pointing at the layout on the screen. “You’ll set off that crate of detonators right here, just inside the front door.”

You nodded. "Yep, and that’ll trigger an alarm which should draw most of the guards towards me - "

“And that’s my cue to sneak down into the cell block to rescue everybody while you grab the staff from the treasure room!” Omega finished emphatically.

“Good!” You grinned, “Remember to keep your communicator on but only use it to contact me if something goes wrong.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

***

Fifteen minutes crept by slowly.

Omega should be at her station about now, you thought.

You wanted to know how she was fairing, but not hearing from her was a good thing. It meant she wasn't in trouble.

Five minutes later, the communicator chirped quietly at your side.

“The guards aren’t leaving!” Omega’s whispered voice sounded tense, “What do I do? I don’t think that diversion worked!”

You peered around the corner into the treasure room. Most of the guards had left.

Only two here. I could take them if I had to.

You could see the staff with it’s glimmering emerald in a case on the back wall.

That was easy.

You lifted the communicator to your lips, trying to remember the readout on the console sitting one floor above.

“There should be a ventilation shaft right above you,” you whispered.

Silence.

“I don’t see one!” Omega whispered back urgently, “And it sounds like there are more guards headed this way!”

Groaning inwardly, you began to wish you hadn’t thought of such a stupid plan. Omega needed you, and you knew that you should get out of there while you still could.

But the staff, a tiny voice whispered in your head, it’s right there. It won’t take long.

You bit your lip. You shouldn’t. A stupid antique wasn’t worth Omega’s life.

Omega’s a smart girl, that voice continued, she’s plenty capable on her own.

It made everything sound so simple. Get the staff, get the boys - that was the plan, wasn’t it?

Hunter will be impressed. He’d like you again.

Guilt churned in your gut as you lifted the communicator again. It chimed just as you opened your mouth, about to tell her that you were on the way.

“Wait, I see it! It’s on the other end of the hall, though, but I think I can make it.”

“Ok,” you responded, “Do it, but be careful!”

“I will!”

Sucking your lower lip in conflicted thought, you made up your mind. “It shouldn’t take me much longer. I’ll grab the staff and meet you by the cell block.”

“Got it.”

You chewed on your lip again, that guilty dread hadn’t abated. If anything, it had gotten worse. Something was going to go wrong - you could feel it. Something wasn’t right.

You looked back up at the staff.

That’s just the anxiety talking, you tried to convince yourself, everything is still going as planned. Just get the damned thing and go help Omega.

You took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety fade away as you slipped into the room.

I got this.

The crates and boxes stacked haphazardly in the dim lighting made it easy to manouver unseen through the treasure room.

“Crazy about those thermal detonators, right!?”

You froze.

“Yeah man,” came the response, and you could’ve collapsed in relief. You’d almost forgotten about the guards that stood just outside the door.

“Think they were just old?” the guard continued, obviously trying to initiate some kind of conversation with his partner.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

They fell silent again for several seconds.

“Ya know, when we grabbed them from that ship it was kinda cool.”

“Yup.”

“Just uhh…you know. You and me.”

“Uh huh.”

“They never pair us together…”

The second guard sighed, “First time for everything.”

“It was fun though,” the one continued before hesistating, “just sayin’, I think we make a pretty good team.”

His partner shifted uncomfortably, “Look man… I’m just trying to do my job here.”

“Yeah, man. Bro. Sorry….”

They shifted into an uncomfortable silence, unaware that you’d snuck past them quite easily as you quickly moved closer to the glass case that held the staff.

The communicator chirped once again and you froze, hoping that the guards were too distacted to notice. You winced at the noise as Omega began to speak quietly through your earpiece.

“Ok, I see them! They’re in a cell together, but there are four guards in here now and the ventilation shaft ends too far away!” She sounded desperate.

“Hey, did you hear that!?” The first guard stood up straight, glancing around.

“Hear what?” His partner sounded exasperated.

“Uhh… nevermind. I thought I heard something.” He paused, “By the way, what do you think about our new armor?”

“Dude, shut up.”

“Right. Yeah. Got a job to do.”

Ducking out of sight, you pressed the communicator up to your lips.

“Get ready,” you hissed, “wait for my signal.”

“Affirmative.”

You assessed the case and the situation in the room. Once the glass was broken, an alarm would probably go off, sending people to your location. That should take care of Omega’s problem.

Then you could take the staff and get back to her quickly.

Peering around the corner once again, you took a deep breath and steadied your heart.

It’s now or never.

Taking a breath, you rammed your elbow into the glass case, and grabbed the staff. The resulting alarm sounded loudly over the compound, buzzing through your eardrums in a painfully electrifying screech.

Both guards spun around.

“What the - !?” You clocked him in the temple with the staff before he could finish and he collapsed onto the floor. The first guard blinked, staring frozen with his mouth slightly ajar.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he likes you back!” you grinned at the man as he slowly moved to press his communicator, still staring back and forth between you and his fallen friend. Flipping the staff around you smacked the device from his hand, giving him a shrug. “Though, I don’t seem to be the best judge of that sort of thing.”

“Wha…?” The butt of the staff slammed against his head before he even had time to contemplate your words and he collapsed unconscious, joining his friend on the floor.

A clang from the floor below told you that Omega had jumped out from the ventilation shaft and the ever nearing pounding of footsteps told you that it was time to go.

Dashing down the stairs, you slid around the corner and slammed the staff into another guard. He spun around, blaster firing wildly as you kicked him in the chest before pulling your own blaster on him, sending him flying into the wall with a smoking hole in his chest.

That beautifully cocky and euphoric feeling of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you ran down the hall where the purple flash of Omega’s bow danced along the walls.

A loud clatter accompanied the pause of energy bolts.

“Hunter!” She screamed, “Help!”

You dashed around the corner. One guard held Omega tightly in his grip while the other one slid her bow away with the butt of an electrostaff.

“Let me go!” She struggled and kicked at him but it seemed to have no effect on the large, armored guard.

“Omega, no!” shouted Hunter as he slammed himself into the bars that held him, only to be forced further back into the cell as the guard hit him in the chest with the electrostaff, sending blue arcs of electricity through his body before Wrecker caught him.

Oh no you don’t.

Rage bubbled through your chest as you burst from the corner. “Hey assholes!”

The first blaster bolt slammed through the chest of the staff wielding guard and the second hit the control panel that released the rest of your team.

Omega cried out as the first guard tossed her into the wall before pulling his own blaster.

“Wrecker get Omega!” Hunter shouted. Fire blazed in his eyes as he pulled his knife from the offending guard’s throat. “Echo, find us a way out of here. Tech, find out where they’ve got our gear!”

Omega stood, rubbing her elbow as she pulled herself to her feet and retrieved her bow. “Your gear’s in the next room over!” She shouted. Hunter gave a firm nod and motioned for Tech and Wrecker to retrieve it.

You grit your teeth as footsteps sounded down the hall. This was NOT how things were supposed to go.

“Hunter,” you shouted impatiently, “I got Cid’s staff but we gotta go!”

He regarded you coolly, lips pulled into a tight line, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if debating whether or not to respond. The choice was made for him as Wrecker and Tech rushed back with the gear. He turned away sharply and your face fell.

I kriffed up.

Regret tinged with disappointment sank like a stone in your stomach as you clenched your teeth, anger willing away the tears that pricked your eyes, and the growing lump in your throat.

“Hunter, I’ve got a clear route out but we need to move now!” Echo spoke.

“Good. Let’s get out of here.” He all but ripped the staff from your hand as he strode past. “I’ll hold onto this.”

--------------------------------------------------

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[invisiblestringmm]

chapter three

it could change but this feels like, like the calm before the storm

a/n: you’re welcome & don’t forget to leave feedback! 🤍

tw: a bit of angst, brief mention of anxiety & rough pregnancy

2.208 words

There were times when you wondered how things would’ve been if Lily never existed - an unbearable thought, since you adored her more than anything in the world and would obviously do anything to make her happy, but where would you be now if you never met the love of your life? You frequently thought about how things would’ve been if Mason never shoved you away, nor ghosted you before you told him about Lily. So, besides your life, two others were living rent-free in your mind and the question “What could’ve been?” was constantly echoing in a soft yet agonising voice.

You never opened Mason’s message on your insta DM, but you never blocked him either for there was no point. The damage, if you could even call it one, was already done and you were more than certain about it on a Tuesday night, when Willow dropped Lily at your’s and her green eyes screamed “I’m so sorry”. Before you could question what had happened, your daughter walked in dragging her backpack and her usual cheerful personality, telling you what a fun afternoon she had with Summer, her mother, and her uncle Mason.

“I took Lily for ice cream like you said I could and they were there,” Willow was sharp to clarify when your widened eyes met hers - you watched your friend swallow hard, anxiously waiting for your reaction.

“Go to your bedroom, Lilian,” your daughter frowned at you and you noticed she pouted a bit. You sighed. “It’s alright, peanut. I just need to speak to auntie Willow, okay?”

Lily mimicked you and let out a sigh too, something that’d make you laugh if you weren’t so nervous. Still in her ballet clothes, you watched your daughter blow you a kiss and make her way to her bedroom, leaving the door open as you always instructed her and that made your heart melt a little. You were the luckiest mum in the world, how could you ever think of a life that Lily wasn’t a part of?

“Y/n, I swear to God I had no idea they’d be there. I didn’t even notice them there, it was Summer who spotted Lily and it was just her and the mum - what’s her na-”

“Jaz,”

Willow nodded, nervously. “I assumed it was okay to stay with them since the girls like each other so much and I didn’t even see him coming. I promise,”

“Will, it’s fine…” you sighed, defeated. This whole crisis was happening because of you, there was no one else to be blamed.

You were the one hiding your child from her father and his family - her family.

“I tried to leave immediately but Lils had just started eating her chocolate fudge and-”

“Oh gosh, was it a big chocolate fudge?”

“No,” Willow shook her head, chuckling. “We shared.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to breathe deeply and close your eyes for a second, feeling unexpectedly exhausted. “How was it?”

“He was very charming, particularly when she introduced herself,” you felt Willow run her hand up and down your back and found comfort in her eyes. “Lilian Maisie, she said.”

“Gosh,” you felt your gut wrench, heart pounding against your chest.

“I know this won’t make things any easier for you, but I think Jaz will probably try to reach you because she’d keep staring at Lily and Mason all the time.”

“Gosh,” you repeated, feeling your whole body weakening. Willow helped you sit on the sofa. “It’s because they look exactly like each other, isn't it?”

Willow slowly nodded, a sigh parting her lips. “The resemblance is undoubtedly uncanny,”

She didn’t stay long that evening, and you had to spend a few minutes reassuring Lily that you weren’t mad at her and that, sometimes, adults were complicated and needed to talk about important stuff - to which she wisely replied that you were a person before being her mummy and still loved you more than anything.

What made you obsessively wonder was: would she still love you when you tell her that her best friend’s uncle was also her daddy?

Willow’s prediction was confirmed when Jaz’s name popped on your notifications, asking when you’d finally accept her invitation to go out for lunch without the girls. It annoyed you a bit how much she insisted, not only because you didn’t feel prepared to face her, but also because things at work were hectic with the Holidays right around the corner. You also had your dad calling nonstop to know if he could take Lily to the Cotswolds before you had planned - according to him, she’d have a lot more fun staying there with her grandparents than with you, occasionally having to go to the office with you. He wasn’t wrong, but there was still the ballet recital on the weekend, so you two agreed he could take her the next day.

When Jaz started to call you instead of texting, you knew it was time to finally give in. Instead of going out, you two agreed it’d be a good idea to enjoy the opportunity to cook a nice meal, so your apartment was the chosen place and you were in charge of the groceries while Jaz fetched dessert and a bottle of white wine for you.

“I’ll have to make you a mocktail,” you said, giving her space to walk into your apartment.

“I definitely won’t decline it,” she giggled, and you noticed how her eyes quickly scanned your place. “I love the decoration. How do you keep it so tidy with that little hurricane?”

“You probably won’t believe it, but Lily is incredibly organised.”

“Hmm,” she muttered. “She got it from you, then.”

It was hard to swallow those words, especially with the knot that formed in your throat. Jasmine was so sure. You knew that she knew, and she knew that you knew - confusing, but clear as the day. You hadn’t been with Jaz many times and they had all been at the ballet studio, you spoke a lot through messages, but you felt oddly uncomfortable around her and you forced yourself to keep in mind that it wasn’t her fault, it was entirely yours.

“So, uh…” you started. “I never asked what we should cook but I’m trying to stay focused before the Holidays.” You giggled, Jaz mimicking you and nodding.

“Me too!”

Cooking made you feel relaxed, so despite the reason why Jaz practically forced this time together, you finally felt at ease again as you talked about the ballet recital and shared Holiday plans - you pointed at a photo of you, Lily, and your parents at Foxwoods House, surrounded by its beautiful garden. One your mum took great pride in.

“The estate has been in the family for a few generations and my great-grandfather built a small chapel there, to marry my great-grandmother,”

“That’s insanely romantic!” Jaz’s sigh was followed by a giggle. “I suppose your grandparents and your parents married there too?”

“Yes, it’s sort of a family tradition. My cousins married there too, and the babies were christened… It's really lovely, very private, and family-centered. The whole family is extremely close.”

“But the estate is your dad’s?”

“Yes and no,” Jaz raised an eyebrow and you chuckled, dividing your attention between her and chopping tomatoes as she focused on the garlic. “My grandpa was sort of inclined to gambling and almost lost the estate, but my dad saved it. It’s his, but like I said, we’re all really close so it’s not like he bans the rest of the family to go there and enjoy it when they need an escape.”

“Because you all grew up there?” you nodded. “Your dad sounds like a fantastic man.” You smiled at her, nodding too. He indeed was, and has always been the most supportive of all.

“He’s extraordinary. Lily is completely crazy about him to the point she’d move in with my parents without thinking twice.”

Jaz flashed you a sweet smile but said nothing. She wasn’t exactly discreet and her facial expression gave it all away, but she soon engaged in rambling about baby shopping, preparations for the baby’s arrival, and how her house was upside down with baby furniture arriving last minute. Rambling wasn’t your favourite thing, but it was better than her throwing hints about Lily’s father - the white wine and the smell of the red sauce cooking also made it easier to handle.

“Pregnancy was fucking hell for me, you know,” you blurted, interrupting Jaz, but she didn’t mind and seemed interested for you to continue. “The first 6 weeks were marked by HG, I was always in and out of the hospital, and the stress made it all worse.

“Stress?”

You nodded. “Lack of emotional support. My parents were incredible but I was still a single mum.”

“Look, Y/n-”

“I tried to tell him.” Jaz gulped. “I need you to listen to me and let me finish the story without any sort of judgement.”

“I’ll do my best.”

This was it, the moment of the truth.

You left the chicken roasting at medium temperature and stood up on the other side of the marble kitchen island, watching Jaz taking a seat while holding her massive bump and taking a sip of her apple juice. Focusing on her bump seemed the best thing to do as you tried to find the proper words, and watching the way she softly stroked it made memories overflow your mind.

“It was just a one-night stand.” you sighed. “I don't want to justify my actions, I know I’m on the wrong side of the story here, but as young as I was, having the father of my child shoving me off the way he did when I went there to tell him just freaked me out.”

Then, you proceeded to tell her the whole story, but also how incredible it was being Lily’s mum. How giving birth was the complete opposite of the pregnancy and you were fortunate that things went as smoothly and as peacefully as possible, that your whole life changed once you held Lily in your arms and fed her your milk - you could see Jaz’s eyes sparkling with tears because she understood what motherhood meant and how you’d do anything and everything to protect your child from what you thought it could be a disappointment for her in the future. Mason turned his back on you that day before you could tell him, so how could he even support you?

You never said his name, but Jasmine’s next words were so full of confidence, that you knew you didn’t have to.

“You should’ve insisted, Y/n.”

You just nodded. “I know, and I want you to know that I regret it deeply because I had no right to deprive my daughter of being around her cousin, her amazing aunt…”

“Gosh,” you watched a single tear fall down her cheek. “He would’ve supported you.”

“You weren’t there, you didn’t see how badly he treated me. I was-” you sniffed. “I was so frightened, so lost.”

“Mason would’ve supported you.” The mention of his name made you finally allow some tears to roll down your cheeks. “And you named her after him…”

You nodded. “I wanted him to be around, somehow.”

“This is extremely tough for me but I don’t want to judge, so…” Holding her bump, Jaz stood up and unhurriedly made her way to you, her hand reaching yours and softly squeezing it. “I’m here for whatever you need, I’m here to be the aunt Lily needs and to support the both of you because I know that’s what you need.”

“Oh, Jaz,” you wanted to cover your face with your hands but Jasmine quickly pulled you to a hug, a clumsy one.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready to tell Mason, and I can’t wait to tell Summer that her bestie is her cousin.”

The rest of the day was followed by you showing Jasmine all of Lily’s baby pictures, telling her all the stories, and even repeating some of them - even if you insisted that it’d be incredible for her to find out everything about Lily by herself, Jaz said it’d still feel like the first time until she got used to being an aunt. She mentioned it was scary to see how much Lily and Mason look alike, that “Maisie” is the perfect middle name, and that she couldn’t wait to see their dynamic together. The hard parts were left out, but you knew that a paternity test would eventually happen for obvious reasons, no matter how much Lily looked like her father.

Jaz assured you that although Mason’s reaction would most likely be negative about what you’ve done, it wouldn’t extend to Lily and he wouldn’t reject her but it’d be a rough path navigating through the fact that he was a father and that his daughter wasn’t a newborn. And like she was reading your mind, she also assured you that he wouldn’t dare to try to take Lily from you.

This was the first time in five years, you knew that, somehow, things would end up fine no matter how hard the in-between was about to be.

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