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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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thatbitchery · 9 months

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Unlearn the dumb idea that inflicted pain justifies your reaction to it. It doesn't. Ladies elite women make it because we have a level of stoicism that borders on sociopathic apathy, exhibit A: we don't react to triggers we mimosa, sleep, see if it's worth it then logically make decisions. The idea that when someone does you dirty you have the right to react based on emotions so you're angry mad throwing names & hands sending texts talking sheet & other loser girl things is dumb dumb. You're not justified to react. 'They did me wrong' . So? Sit down, watch Netflix, wait for the emotions to pass then use the head God so generously gave you + that pretty face bonus.

When you react to people doing you wrong you give them the permission to bypass their actions & focus on your reaction so if your bf cheats on you & you start screaming sending 1b texts making titktoks he can bypass his cheating & focus on you're immature you're abusive why did you hit me you're mentally unstable you throw things around bla bla & will never face what he did. When we say be non reactive we aren't asking you to be a stone we are asking you to be smart. Do you want to get manipulated? Abused? Sit down get a manicure & go for brunch. Run to your room scream cry anhiliate your pillow but when they're watching its Elsa Lite, froooozen ice queen don't let them in don't let them see, ever.

One tactic m3n use in divorce court is to get the lady so triggered she loses her cool then it's look at her could you live with that? I'm taking my child this is an abusive woman & men don't leave relationships they just trigger you into irrational behavior and use that as an excuse & crying is worse what did we say about public vulnerability? Go cry to your bestie and God in your house out here tears are a sign to bully you. When you're not reactive you throw THEM out of balance and you hold the cards, once you go 'right to my opinion I'm the victim' we'll find you a grave bc that's called social suicideeee.

Two friends. Real life story here, ladies. Ah high-school back in the good old days.

We call them Allie and Sara. High school circles were tight so you're friends with someone you're also friends with their bfs, right? Alice & Sara both got cheated on (by m3n looking like area 9 failed experiment Shrek cosplayers but that's not thepoint). The bfs know that they were discovered. Allie, Allie is that girl. Drama girl. Find him in cafeteria & make a scene girl. How could you cheat on me you suck your pp is short anyway bla bla watch me devalue myself. Allie feels good in the moment, her bf leaves and tell his friends of course i cheated that girl is crazy. Would you date someone like her? So immature. Women are so ovarical I can't handle it. Evening the story is- she was abusive. She hit him & threw words in public imagine in private? He's been protecting her in silence, you know women can be abusive too.

Sara, Sara my love. Sara sits next to her Shrek Lite boy and says hey so that girl you kissed, Jane was it? She's pretty. You have taste. End of story. After lunch her Human experiment failure boy says let's talk she says sure abd listens with 'mhm' and nods. She meant nothing babe she seduced me I'm an adolescent what can I do bla bla. She nods says okay and goes to class. Days goes as usual. Evening we get dinner , Weekend we do research for our papers & talk college. Is she talking to him? Yes. Painfully polite, painfully. No emojis no nothing just shallow dry polite texts. Let's talk about this babe- is left on blue ticks. Monday morning her factory reject lookalike is losing his mind, she's being painfully polite, in a shallow way, so he resorts to triggering. It's because you're like this you are like a man and I'm straight I need a woman bla bla. She says OK then turns to the next person & did you hear about the trip to the beach? Of course I'm going. Boy realizes that's not working & resorts to Allie behavior- throw a tantrum in public make yourself the victim why won't you give me the pleasure of being the one to push you to your edge? Sara says babe pull yourself together you're embarrassing your family. Do you need your anxiety meds? My therapist is good she can treat hysteria are you okay? No this isn't like you, this is hysteria babe do you need psychological help? No this isn't normal , hey do you guys think it's normal to do this? I'm calling your mom babe we are getting you a mental check hold up-

Heres a little secret. In private? In our dorms? Sara was BAWLING her eyes out. Chocolates & Styrofoam cups. We are talking 3am on the bathroom floor. In public?

Guess who won.

Unlearn the idea that you're entitled to reacting to others actions to you, you're not. Learn to hold your tongue and tears and smile and Elsa don't let then in don't let them see then call mom and spend the rest of the week in her arms crying. The amount of women I've seen triggered out of their jobs, marriages, houses, parenting &c when they were 10000% the victim from lack of emotional intelligence is unforgivable.

Dont, be dumb. Don't let yourself think you have the freedom of expression, you don't. Not in the way you want to. Go write a poem but remember everything you say can and will, in fact, be used against you.

Non reaction is the highest level of power in existence. Mind over body. Logic over emotion.

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ode2rin · 1 year

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“you’re cheating.”

you accused firmly, your conviction unwavering. there was not even an ounce of doubt in your judgment. it seemed to be the only logical explanation for what was transpiring right before your eyes.

“i swear, baby, i am not,” reo pleaded, but you were having none of it. you clung to your accusation, refusing to back down.

there was simply no other way to interpret the situation.

unable to contain your incredulity any longer, you pointed directly at the perpetrator of your accusation— an unbelievably unfamiliar word that reo had placed on the scrabble board.

“phpht”, is he fucking serious? how were you supposed to even pronounce that?

scanning the jumble of letters on your own rack, you conceded defeat. “you’re cheating. i'm out,” you declared, playfully rising from your seat as if to emphasize your point.

reo stood up, facing you with protests laced with laughter, vehemently defending his outrageous choice of word. “i’m not cheating! i swear it's a real word. i'm not making it up!”

“who the hell comes up with that? phpht,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and arching an eyebrow. “and did i even pronounce it correctly?”

“google it, it’s a word.”

“sure it is,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m done with this game.”

reo sat and leaned back to his chair, seemingly unfazed by your antics. “may i remind you, love, that this was your idea?” he teased.

the worst idea, apparently.

if you had known how insufferable your boyfriend could be when it came to board games, you would have scoured every genre available on netflix to find a movie you both could have enjoyed instead of suggesting this battle of wits that you were clearly losing.

“yeah, because i thought it would be fun,” you huffed, “but here you are, taking it so seriously as if we were in a competition for the title of best scrabble player of the year!”

reo let out a laugh at your outburst that turned into a boyish grin adorning his face, “what can i say, baby? i simply have a wide vocabulary,” he playfully boasted, clearly enjoying your annoyance. “besides, you’re into smart men. i like to remind you of that from time to time.” he even had the audacity to wink.

“show off.”

“only to you.”

“i’m still not playing this with you anymore,” you declared, rolling your eyes, yet unable to suppress the tugging smile forming on your lips.

“how about this one then?” reo proposed, placing another board game on the table, his eyes seeking your approval.

oh, hell no.

approval is the last thing he is going to receive for his choice of game.

playing monopoly with a man who religiously checked the stock market every day at 7 am like clockwork? you weren't crazily in love enough to endure that (you are, just not tonight).

“and have you criticize every property purchase i make? nope, thank you very much.”

a mischievous grin once again danced on reo's lips. “you could just admit and tell me i'm good at everything, baby.”

“good at everything, you say?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice. “i’m pretty sure you suck at hiding your jealousy, especially when—”

“alright, let's play snakes & ladders instead,” reo interrupted, a playful surrender evident in his tone. “i’d even let you win.”

and sure enough, you both played snakes & ladders, in which you miraculously lost twice. perhaps luck had ceased favoring you after you earned yourself a boyfriend like reo.

you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it, though. you were indeed lucky to have a man like him, even when he’s pulling up words unknown to anyone in a scrabble game.

note. just a silly drabble because i miss him and i'm having the biggest writer's block rn. also, i swear that's a word don't make me defend myself here╰（‵□′）╯

#☁️ my ode to you #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

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shujubeelamoglia · 1 year

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Michael Hsu Rosen

Photography by Anderson Martinez

#michael hsu rosen #shirtless #pretty smart #glamorous #glamorous netflix #tiny pretty things

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patricia-taxxon · 1 year

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In art, positive feelings are dumb and negative feelings are smart. This is an association I've noticed in especially online discussions of media, it is an error that has gone uncorrected for entirely too long.

This association is bolstered whenever someone says that you shouldn't criticize the mario movie too harshly because it's "fun" and light frivolous things are self justifying. This association is bolstered whenever people continuously categorize media that makes you feel bad as a strictly adult afair, that anything sad or disquieting or revolting is somehow trying to outsmart you and you're actually very cool & hip for rejecting it in favor of dumb pleasures.

This association leaves two categories of art completely outside of discussion and dying for air. Firstly, art that is joyous and life affirming in a mature and reflective way. It'd seem almost sacrilegious to describe Kiki's Delivery Service as "Wholesome," even though it is such prime comfort cinema there's just so much more to it than that. It's a tangibly adult perspective on the themes it presents. But the "happy=dumb" association is set so deep that nearly all critical discussion about miyazaki's movies is about how pretty and sweet they are. They exist in this category of being overexposed yet somehow still unappreciated.

But then there's the inverse, art that makes you feel like shit in a simple and single minded way. Irreversible is the worst time you can have with a movie, probably, and it (affectionately) has nothing going on under the hood. It's a pain box. This category of art tends to confound folks far more than the previous, it elicits a "what's the point??" usually, or if any concession is made towards allowing uncomfortable art to exist it's with the caveat that it has to "justify" it's discomfort. Simple displeasures don't have the same assumed good faith as simple pleasures. The surface level ways in which a film like Irreversible makes you feel like you've been beat up after it's finished? Not worth mentioning.

There's graver consequences to these two boulder-sized blindspots in artistic conception. Like, because negative emotions are smart, people think that making entertainment out of real life tragedies can be de-facto respectful so long as they make the emotions in their entertainment negative enough. It doesn't matter that Netflix's Dahmer plays defense for the killer and uses the image of black people as a boringly virtuous collection of punching bags to milk tragedy from, if it just makes you feel bad enough, gives the surface level impression of graveness, then it's fine that you're making entertainment out of real life people's personal real life tragedy that still exists in recent memory for many people.

I want to elevate joy, bring it into critical attention, stop taking it for granted. I also want to de-elevate misery, take it off it's false pedestal, let us realize that it's all art. FEELINGS are self justifying, not just good ones.

#cilantromixture #mini essay

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rambling-at-midnight · 1 month

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Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 3; final part)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Just minutes after discovering his secret identity, it’s time for you and Jason to clear the air about how the two of you actually met.

Word count: 3.4k

Your heart is racing a hundred miles a minute when you make it back to your apartment. And not just because of the five sets of stairs you have to walk up, although that's pretty bad.

You make sure that your roommate isn't home, then usher your cat out of your bedroom and open the window. You sit on the edge of your bed, nerves twisting in your stomach.

No, you can't stay still.

Also, your cat's scratching at the door, furious that he's been locked away.

You decide to wait in the living room instead.

His approach is soundless. You don’t hear him come through the window, or when he opens your bedroom door, but your cat meows happily and you turn around to see your six-foot-two lying boyfriend looming in your apartment.

“Is your roommate here?” he growls through the mask. Your cat yowls at his feet, wondering why Jason—the Red Hood—hasn’t begun to lavish him with attention yet.

“No, so you can take that off.”

You’re a little pleased with yourself for figuring out his identity so quickly. Unfortunately, you’re much less pleased with him for messing with you. You’re not mad that he didn’t tell you his vigilante identity; you’ve known each other about a month, which is nothing in the grand span of a lifetime. You’re not a pessimist, but you are realistic, and you’re not sure if your relationship is going to work out yet after a week and a half of dating. Any disgruntled ex-girlfriend could reveal his secret identity to the press—not that you’re that type of person.

No, it’s smart to be cautious with his identity.

So wearing a costume that displays one of his most unique features isn’t the brightest.

Also, now that you think about it, Jason wandered into the library the day after the Red Hood walked you home.

So you’re not exactly worried, but you are a bit cautious. You’ve seen that Netflix show You, where that perfectly charming man kills every woman he’s in a relationship with. If it came down to that, you wouldn’t be able to beat Jason in a fight.

Also, you don’t want to fight in front of the cat.

With a click and a hiss, the mask—more a muzzle—comes off, and there appears your handsome boyfriend, a little disheveled and sweaty from the five-story climb to your window after stowing his bike. He’s still beautiful, and it’s such a shame. He could have been the one, had he not stalked and lied to you.

You think.

You’re going to find out.

Jason’s eyes dart to your dominant hand, which is hidden behind your back with your trusty pepper spray ready to go at the slightest sign of aggression. “I take it I’m in trouble,” he says, light, almost joking, and bends to pick your cat up. The little bastard squirms every time you do that, but he settles right down in Jason's arms and gets to purring.

“Jason—” You start, then falter, because you don’t actually know his last name. Or his middle. “Jason,” you say again through gritted teeth, trying to make it as menacing as possible. “I think we have something to talk about, don’t you?”

“Y/N,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I am the Red Hood. I couldn’t tell you bec—”

“I don’t give a shit that you’re the Red Hood,” you interrupt.

Jason’s mouth clicks shut. He gives you an odd look.

“Well, that you didn’t tell me,” you amend. “We’ve known each other a month. It would be pretty pathetic if you couldn’t keep the secret that long. Everyone in the city would know by now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So what are you mad about, exactly?”

“That I was right!” You exclaim. “You were stalking me! I thought you just liked coffee and reading, but you were following me the whole time. You even offered to beat yourself up. What else about you is a lie?”

“Okay, whoa,” he says, holding his hand up, and if you weren’t mad before, you’re getting there now. He has no right for you to motion to calm down. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I guess I kind of did start this all out by following you.”

Your hands fall limply to your sides. Now that he’s admitted it, all the wind is out of your sails. You’ve never been so disappointed to be right. Secretly, you were hoping he would write it all off as a freak coincidence so thoroughly that you’d have no choice to believe it, all the way up until he strangled you. “Okay,” you say calmly. You hear your own voice, but it’s from very far away. “Are you going to hurt me now?”

“What?” He looks aghast at the very thought. “No, no, I won’t—why would I—No.” He’s so firm in the reply, so utterly certain, that your grip loosens on the pepper spray. He might be a really good liar… or he might be telling the truth. “No, Y/N, I really like you, which is why I asked you out, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt you anyway because you’re my friend. And you’re a good person. The Red Hood punishes criminals; he’s not some crazy serial killer.”

“I mean, you kind of are,” you mumble. You’ve seen the statistics. He ruled through fear for several years. But, like he’d said earlier, he’s reformed himself. He still kills people, though, but you find that it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

“I am not—” Jason stresses, looking you right in the eyes— “the kind of man that hits women.”

There’s a story there, in the way he says it, but it’s not the time to ask. You’re not sure that your fledging relationship is ready for it, either, but you’re still curious. You’re also curious about why he killed so many people when he started out. You’re curious about everything about him. You think you could listen to him talk for hours about himself and you still would only touch the surface of everything that makes up Jason.

“Okay,” you say. His eyes track your hand as you set the pepper spray down on the counter.

He repeats it like a question. You’re a little surprised, too, but— “Jason, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your girlfriend if I wasn’t sure that you’re a good person. But I need you to tell me about how we met.”

“You mean the robbery?” He looks confused. “That really was just a coincidence. I heard that something was going down and stopped by. I had no idea who you were before that night, I swear.”

“Okay. So why did you follow me to the library?”

“Oh.” Jason coughs. “Yeah. Okay, well, the first day, I actually was following you.”

You slap the counter with an open palm, triumphant. Your cat hisses at the sound. "I knew it!"

"Wait, wait, just hear me out. I was following you to make sure that you didn't die of blood loss. Or sepsis. Or gangrene. Or—"

"So you were stalking me... because you cared?"

"It's how my family shows love," he shrugs.

Your eyes widen. Because you hadn't considered it, but if he's a Bat—and he is, judging by the red shape on his chest—then his family is the Batclan. "Oh, my God. Batman is your dad."

Jason folds his arms over his chest like he's self-conscious about the symbol. "Yeah, and I've got the weird attachment style to show for it."

"Wait," you blurt out. "The brother you were supposed to meet in the coffee shop—were you supposed to meet Red Robin?"

"Um..."

You can't believe you were almost in the same place as the actual Red Robin. "Wow. Is his civilian identity as cool as his superhero one?"

"Please don't tell me you're a Red Robin fan," Jason says, his voice pained. "We might actually need to break up."

"Do you think I could meet him sometime?" you whisper.

"He's a huge loser," Jason tells you. "He's short and scrawny and actually pretty ugly beneath the mask. He looks like a troll. Also, I think he watches Andrew Tate videos and moderates Reddit forums in his free time. You really don't want to meet him."

You can't stop grinning. "There's no need to be jealous, Jason. Red Robin's way too young for me, but I think it's cool that he uses his brain to fight crime."

"What, and I don't?" he scoffs.

"Okay." You hold up a hand, determined to get the conversation back on track. "So you wanted to make sure that I wasn't actively dying. Why'd you keep coming back?"

"Well, then I thought you might be a supervillain," he said casually, like that's a normal thing to spring on someone.

You just gape at him.

"You treated a gunshot wound like it was nothing!" he defended himself shrilly. "Most civilians would be a little more concerned about an open wound in their side."

"I'm a medical student. Doctors make the worst patients."

"Yeah, well, Gotham has a pretty bad track record of doctors becoming supervillains, so excuse me for trying to curb a new one before she had the chance to turn."

You cross your arms. "What did you think would happen, Jason? I'd accidentally take a dip in Gotham River and the bacteria in there would travel from my side to my brain and make me go crazy?"

"I mean, yeah. That's pretty much exactly what happened with Harley Quinn."

Well, shit. He's got you there.

"Okay, well then why approach me at the coffee shop?"

Jason raises his eyebrow. "You were the only one there and I had a spare coffee. Am I not allowed to do nice things?"

"It was right after I told the Red Hood that I thought I was getting stalked. Did you do that on purpose?" you accuse.

"No, I swear. I didn't even know that you liked that place. Red Robin mentioned liking it.” Oh, my God, you and Red Robin like the same coffee shop. “I just… kept showing up after I saw you there the first time." He must be scratching your cat too hard, because he wiggles out of Jason's arms and runs over to his food bowl, looking at you pleadingly like he's been starving for a hundred years, even though your roommate texted you earlier saying that he'd already fed him. "I was planning on disappearing from your life and telling you as Hood that I'd, I don't know, threatened the dude or whatever, but..."

"But what?"

He shrugs. "You're pretty, Y/N. You're smart. And you were funny when I talked to you as Hood. Is it a crime for me to want to make a friend?"

"Just a friend?" You squint at him.

"Yeah. Just a friend." Jason tousles his hair again, and this time you let yourself admire the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms flex at the motion. "Believe it or not, I've never been in a relationship before. This wasn't what I was expecting—I never expected anything—but I'm happy. You're happy... aren't you?" He's pleading now, and it tugs on your heartstrings.

You sigh, but take a step closer to him. "Yes, I'm happy, Jason." It's definitely not the most conventional way to start a relationship, and most other people would be running for the hills by now, but this is Gotham. You moved here and stayed here because you fit in with the crazy. "I just need you to tell me one thing." Step. "One honest thing."

"Of course," he says immediately. Big green eyes pleading for you to bridge the gap between your bodies, to forgive him.

"What's your last name? I can't date someone whose last name I don't know."

For some reason, he grimaces. "Uh... my full name is Jason... Peter... Todd." His voice gets quieter with every word, until you're straining to hear his surname.

That rings familiar with something in your memory. You frown. "Jason Todd... not like Jason Todd Memorial Library?" Usually with memorials, the person they're named after is dead, but Jason's real and in front of you. Also, wasn't Jason Todd the kid that Bruce Wayne adopted several years ago?

The corners of Jason's lips turn down. "Yeah, I wasn't thrilled with your choice of study locations at first. But it is quieter than my apartment. B adopted too many fuckin' kids, and they always find my place, even when I move—"

"Does Red Robin hang out at your apartment a lot?" you ask, just to see him scowl.

"No, he's never there, and I'm going to dropkick him off a roof the next time I see him unless you stop talking about him."

"Okay," you say. You're close enough now to put a hand on his forearm, so you do. "I'll stop talking." You have to get on your tiptoes and pull the back of his head a bit, but you kiss him, and somehow it's even better than the first time.

Jason's lips are a little dry, but not chapped, soft and pillowy. He blinks when you rest back on your heels, looking dazed like someone hit him over the head with a frying pan. "Am I forgiven now?"

"Mmm..." You pretend to think it over. His hands snake around your back and pull you flush against him, stomach to stomach. "I think so," you say through a gasp, which might be embarrassing if he didn't bend to kiss you before the words had fully left your lips.

You kiss for a little while after that, shivering when his hands slip beneath your jacket. Not quite up your shirt, but getting there. He's got huge hands, and he grips your waist firmly, using his thumbs to gently rub at your hipbones as he pulls you even closer. That small contact, so gentle yet also a little greedy, heats your body from the inside like an inferno.

You're starting to bend backwards now, and the hand on the back of his neck is less there to pull him down and more there to keep you up. Are you lightheaded? You might be. You breathe in through your nose, but it doesn't help.

Jason may be inexperienced, according to his own testimony, but he doesn't kiss like it. He kisses with his whole body. He keeps leaning forward, moving his lips against yours with the single-minded intensity that took you by pleasant surprise the first time you kissed. Soft but firm, pressing against you, in a way that makes you think he'd really like to crowd you against a wall and cage you in. Not that you want to escape.

When you're bent over, you take Jason's chin in your hand and slowly push his head back. He resists at first, eyes fluttering as he chases after your lips, but you're about to fall over, so you murmur, "What's the plan here, babe?"

"No plan," he says, voice low and gravely in a way you've never heard before. Jason looks at you from beneath his long lashes. A heat flashes in his eyes. Something flutters in your stomach, bigger than butterflies. Maybe birds? Maybe robins.

And then you feel his hands on the bare skin of your back when they slip beneath the hem of your shirt. You gasp and jerk away on instinct because his hands are so warm, so calloused, but he's got a good grip on you; you're not falling anytime soon.

Then your entire world shifts as Jason yanks you upright, at the same time pulling the hem of your jacket and shirt up enough so he can see your wound.

"Oh, my God," you groan, embarrassed and a little amused. "You little pervert, were you doing all that to distract me?"

"No." Jason's voice is still gravely. He looks at your hip, then stares at your mouth like he's making a decision. He kisses you again, a firm press, and nips at your bottom lip before he leans back to squint at the scar. "Is it still bruised?"

"Yes," you sigh, covering your eyes. You're embarrassed for reasons you can't quite explain. Maybe because he's pulling your shirt up and you're not quite as firm everywhere as he is. You're pretty sure champion bodybuilders aren't as firm as he is. "It's gotten much better, though. See? No infections or anything like that."

He measures the scar against his hand: it's about two fingers wide, and one finger long. It scabbed over a while ago, and now that the scab's gone, it's just a shiny pink patch of skin.

"You could have stitched it anyway," he sighs.

"I don't care." You grab him by the chin and force him to meet your eyes. "I don't care about scars. Mine or yours. Most of the time, they're sexy. And apart from me, you're the only one seeing it." His hands clench your waist at the words, then loosen. He sends you an apologetic look. You continue, "So as long as you don't mind it, then nobody does."

"I wish it had never happened to you," he sighs.

"Well, it did. But it wasn't your fault and we can't change the past."

Jason's still mulling over your words when you start to work at his belt. He makes a choked noise and grabs your hands. Doesn't push them away, just holds them still right where they are. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I showed you mine." You grin up at him. "It's only fair that you show me yours."

He snorts. "You don't trust your own handiwork?"

"It's a follow-up appointment," you say. "To make sure everything's healing normally. Now take off your shirt, Mr. Todd. This veterinarian's apartment does, after all, moonlight as a strip club."

He undoes his belt buckle with one hand, and you have to make sure that your mouth isn't open. That was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. "You ready?" he grins, cocky in the way he only gets when he's flirting with you. "One look at me and you'll forget all about Red Robin. Forever."

"God, don't bring up your little brother while we're making out," you groan.

"Good to know that you plan on kissing me some more tonight," he says casually. Then he peels off the skintight gray shirt, and every thought wipes from your mind.

His muscles have muscles. And, somehow, despite your apartment's shitty lighting, he's glowing. His pants sit low on his hips like he's a model or something.

How has no one ever dated him before? He's actually perfect.

The longer you stare without saying anything, the more uncomfortable he looks. Finally he says, "I know I've got a lotta scars," his native Gotham accent bleeding through a little, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He's warm and firm and soft, just like you thought he would be.

"My God," you whisper. "You're beautiful."

Jason goes beet red.

"And the one I stitched is healing up nicely," you continue, tracing your fingers lightly over the slightly raised line.

His whole body shudders. He swallows almost violently, eyes clenched tight like they're in pain. Then they fly open, and you gasp, because they're glowing green. Not metaphorically glowing. Like, actually glowing.

Jason kisses you again like he's trying to herd you. You don't know where's all right for you to touch, so you cup his face with both your hands and pour everything that he gives you right back at him. Warmth, affection, something bright that you can't name.

Then you lean back. Your lips disconnect with an audible pop.

"Hang on. Is Bruce Wayne Batman?"

Jason's chin drops down to his chest. He groans, deep, and you pretend that warmth doesn't pool in your stomach at the sound. Voice thready, he says, "You know, talking about my dad really kills the mood."

"Oh, my God, he is." You pump your fist in the air. "I'm two for two. Who's the world's greatest detective now, Batsy?"

"If I kiss you again, will you shut up about Batman?" Jason asks.

You grin. "I don't know. Maybe you'll have to find out."

He does.

And you do.

You've decided that the Red Hood is your favorite superhero, anyway.

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

#reader insert #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd

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barbiesmuse · 2 months

Text

WELCOME TO NEW YORK ₊✧⋆

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָjohn price + reader

summary: in which john finds a new column in the paper quite interesting, although he isn't the target audience he keeps coming back for more.

tags: perv!john, reader is somewhat slutty (but aren't we all?), talk of sex, reader and john masturbate, perv!john has a voice kink, john is also a hoe, reader is astute, john is painted in a more submissive way in reader's mind, when the true smut comes it won't be this way obv!! this is long as hell and i hate the way i wrote the end but i needed to get this out, reader being sexy as usual!!

HEAD BARBIE'S ANNOUNCEMENTS: hi gorgeous gorgeous people!! this is so silly and unexpected of me but with sex and the city being added to netflix we're going to celebrate!! i'm actually moving to NYC because this barbie has a boyfriend!! alright, now you may read. it's very long so beware!! also yes i did steal the name of carrie's blog i am not that creative i fear!! love you always, xoxo natty.

ps. y'alls little reblogs for better version headcanons & the fic were absolutely adorable i read them over and over!! your ideas and continuations were so so smart. i loved it soso much. if u ever have any thoughts send an ask!! thank you thank you thank you!! ₊✧⋆

Wednesday, October 20th.

John Price was a man who liked routine. If anything was even remotely out of order all hell would break loose. John saw it as a silly quirk, his past partners saw it as a deal breaker. Which is how he ended up here, watching his seventh girlfriend this year pack her things. He watched as she packed her belongings in a cluttered manner. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Her clothes overflowing as she stuffs them in the cardboard box. As she heads for the door, she and John make eye contact. John can't help but chuckle at her glare and wave her off, he told himself again and again that he was getting too damn old for this. As the girl walks out of his condo John can't help but sigh. It wasn't like he was attached to these women, they were just simple sleeves for his cock until he found a pretty little housewife. John runs a hand over his face, his beard hairs scratching against his palm. He lets out a low grunt before heading to bed, as he trudges up the stairs he spots the woman's red lace panties. He let out a quiet chuckle before picking them up and stuffing them inside his pocket. She'd left them on purpose. After all, John was a hard man to get over. He would worship you like you were a goddess, all to sneak out the next morning. Thursday, October 21st.

As John made his way into headquarters he picked up the newspaper, exchanged pleasantries with the secretaries, and even gave the nurse a nod. He was in a good mood, and when John was in a good mood all was right in the world. The sound of his heavy boots filled the halls as he made his way to the break room for his morning coffee. He threw the newspaper on the table before grabbing a mug, as Soap walks in he can't help but roll his eyes. He did not have the time for his childish banter. Not after he spent the whole night fisting himself with those red lace panties.

“Mornin' Cap, have a good weekend?” Soap says as he comes beside his Captain. He smelled of liquor and sex, his hair was disheveled, and his pants were unzipped. John let out a scoff before pouring the rest of the coffee into his mug. “No, but I can see you've had a good morning,” John says before licking the coffee that drips from the black pot. Soap lets out an embarrassed chuckle and takes a seat next to Price as he sits at a table.

Soap opens the newspaper and is met with the same column every time, written by a young female journalist. Soap would know because his wife practically lived off of it. He lets out an annoyed groan before turning to see any big news. There was none, the only interesting thing on the paper that morning was that damn fashion and gossip column. John quirked an eyebrow up at his exasperated expression, he didn't want to know, but the awkward silence in the room was slowly eating away at him.

“Sorry Cap, s' just this damn fashion column is what takes up the paper these days. S' all my wife talks about with her friends, I mean I get it. The journalist is a fuckin' babe. S' just annoyin', continue y'r coffee.” Soap rambles, although John doesn't really listen after the mention of Soap's wife. That woman had been eyeing him since Soap had joined the Task Force. John nods before speaking firmly, “We've got a briefing in less than twenty minutes, I suggest you fix yourself up now unless you have a kink for embarrassment.” Soap nods before scurrying out of the break room.

John grabs the newspaper and his eyes widen at the black and white picture of you. He could only imagine what you looked like in person, how fucking beautiful you were. You looked as if you belonged in the Louvre. His eyes trail down to your column, he can't help but chuckle at the name.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

John was more than intrigued he was captivated by you, even from words you had caught him by the balls. As he continued reading he couldn't help but start to wonder who you were. How did you get to be this mysterious woman who he craved to know more about? John grabbed the paper and left the break room, his coffee now cold and lonely. Hell, who needed it when you had given him just enough energy by showing the tiniest bit of cleavage! John walks into the briefing room as if he's in a hurry. He looks around at the men before mumbling, “Meetings canceled.” In ten minutes you had thrown John completely off of his game. Where was the order and routine he usually lived for? Had he thrown it all out the window for a pretty little minx such as yourself? Of course, because when John saw something he liked; he needed to have it. No matter what it took. John barges into his office and locks his door, he couldn't be seen reading some girly column in the paper. His eyes trailed down to your column, and he began reading his eyes squinting at the use of your tiny font.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

Why do all men have to be so complicated? I swear we women deserve a raise for the constant bullshit we put up with. It's almost impossible to find a man who isn't trying to keep his penis hard! Although I degrade men usually, one of my closest friends just got engaged! He's one of the few who deserve a pat on the back. The engagement was out of a movie almost! Although it's nowhere near close to happening for me, I can live vicariously through my friends. As I sit here and right to you I can't help but wonder if there actually is a man out there for me? I'm not as scary as I sound, I just have a passion for women's rights! What's so scary about that? It's not as if I'm some lock-ness monster trying to lure people in, just a woman who knows her worth. On a happier note, I've found a new bar called the “Cafe Society.” They open at five o'clock every day! They have some of the best espresso martinis I've ever had, and I consider myself a connoisseur of espresso martinis! I go every Thursday, come see me! Although this month's column is short I'll be back and better than ever before you know it. Might just need a man to pick me up and show me a good time, until then you might not know where to find me most of the time; but you can always find me on the 21st. Lots of love.

On the twenty-first, your column was in the newspaper every month. Finally, something else to look forward to besides fucking brainless women. He usually didn't like women who put up a fight, but you, God, there was something about you. You were such a breath of fresh air, you had opinions. He could tell you were able to hold a conversation. You were a woman. Not a girl, a fucking woman. John looked at the date, Thursday. What a perfect little setup, almost as if you planned it just for him. At least, that's what John would like to think. The time was currently 12:35 pm, he could last until five, only for a pretty girl like you.

Thursday, October 21st. 5:00.

As John walks into Cafe Society the first thing he sees is you, setting your purse on the bar counter and making conversation with the bartenders. He figured they knew you well considering you were a regular. He walked over to the bar, exhaling slowly. He takes a seat on the stool next to you. His cologne gently clouded your nose. You look over at him, your gorgeous eyes meet his cold brown eyes and he swears he's in heaven. “Captain John Price, a pleasure to meet you,” he trails off, waiting to be told your name. After hearing your name he swears he's been struck by Cupid himself. He can hear the winged baby chanting your name in his ear. Had you cast a spell on him? As a soft smile paints your sweet face he knows he's struck gold. You turn away, not sparing him another glance for the rest of the night. John's palms are sweaty, had he not charmed you enough? You were an enigma to him, and he was determined to figure you out.

As you get up from your seat, slinging your mini purse around your shoulder John smirks. You were such a pretty sight, the way your curves filled your skirt made him spiral. You shoot him a tight-lipped smile before walking out, your heels clicking echoing in his mind. He quickly gets up, placing a hundred-dollar bill in the bar to pay for his drink before rushing to find you. There you were, looking around for a taxi, he assumed.

“Ending the night so early?” John says, a chuckle escaping his lips as he accidentally startles you. He places his large hand on your shoulder. You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him with those same fiery eyes. “Well, unfortunately, the man at the bar didn't speak to me. I assumed he was married.” You say, a grin resting on your face. You were witty, John didn't usually like that in a woman. He liked more submissive women. But you, you were different. You held your own, you would be just fine without a husband. At least that's what you kept telling yourself after the failed relationships.

“Quite far from married, darlin',” He begins, his hand trailing down to your lower back. You shiver at his touch and he hesitates. You give him a reassuring glance and begin to walk, you wait for him to follow before letting out a playful sigh. “You coming or what?” You say and smile as he quickly catches up. The two of you walk side by side, a comforting silence cast over the two of you. “So besides being a captain, what do you do in your free time?” You ask, a bashful smile painting your face as your pinkies touch briefly.

“Not much, work usually takes up a lot of my time. What about you? What do you do for a living?” He asks, you look up at him and as you pass a newspaper stand you pick up a paper and point to your face. “Journalist, Mr. Captain.” You say with a cheeky smile, almost as if you knew he knew. It hurt your ego he didn't know who you were, almost everyone did. “Ah, interesting,” He says calmly, his eyes trailing down to your breasts, fuck. They were even better in person. He couldn't help but mentally facepalm as he felt a hard-on begin to grow.

“Quite,” you say, pronouncing your “T.” sharply. The silence is now not-so-comforting. Before you can say anything John quickly speaks, a hint of panic in his voice. What had changed in the last twenty-one seconds? The size of his hard-on, that's what. “As much as I'd love to stay n' chat doll, I've got to get home. Th-the missus needs me.” He says before quickly walking to his car. The missus? Didn't he say he wasn't married?

Men, what a bunch of fucking assholes.

Thursday, October 21st. 11:00.

As you lie in bed, your computer resting to your side, glasses perched on your face. Legs spread, lip drawn between your teeth you search for everything there is to know about Captain John Price. How old is he, what he truly does for a living, and if he is married or not. Various pictures of random men come up, none of them the sexy captain you'd met only a few hours earlier. You sigh and let out a sexually frustrated moan, how could there be absolutely no pictures of him. Just as you're about to give up you spot a picture of him with a woman, they're kissing and they seem to be in a tropical setting.

Intrigue takes over and you decide to click on her page, double-checking your incognito window before scrolling. You'd hit the jackpot. Several pictures of the woman and John flood your screen, some are more sensual others are simple selfies. Yet as you scroll you check for one thing, a ring and or wedding pictures. A small smile on your face as you find none. Gosh, he looks so damn sexy. It's shameful, truly. But you can't help but dip your hand down into your panties. Your pointer and middle finger rub gentle circles on your bud.

You can't help but slip a finger inside yourself at the thought of him touching you. He was just so perfect, you could only imagine how his rough beard would feel against your pussy as he laps at it. The burning feeling would feel good, you'd come right on his tongue. He'd be so needy for you, humping against the bed to get himself off while he pleasures you. He'd whimper against your clit, a chuckle escaping his lips as you whine from him blowing cold air on your pretty pussy.

Oh, you just know he'd touch you so well.

As John sits in his bed, his gray sheets crinkled as he fucks his fist at the sight of you. He'd searched the internet for you, needing to know everything about you. You made him crazy, you carried yourself in such a polite manner, he almost felt ashamed for wishing it was your hand wrapped around his veiny cock. You'd take him so well, he was sure of it. A sinister smirk painted his face as he clicked on an interview of you, it was recent and fuck you looked perfect. He couldn't help but imagine your plump lips wrapped around his cock, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as he face-fucked you.

Not to mention how well you'd take him, you were such a good girl. Your moans would be so pretty against his pillow, he'd fuck you from behind so well you'd be shaking when he was done with you. Your sweet sounds only making him come quicker, he was sure he wouldn't be able to last long. And your voice, your sweet voice. You might've been a little firecracker but your voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. If only you'd moan his name, just for him. One day, you would and he was damn sure of it.

As you come down from your high you can't help but imagine the title for next month's column, “My shameful addiction to Mr. Captain.”

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eclairsnme · 1 year

Text

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2

The brattiness continues (with a sprinkle of denseness)

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she thinks highly of herself, it’s almost as if she’s the reincarnation of Gojo Satoru.

oh, spoiler alert she's going to meet someone who also thinks very highly of himself. ^_−☆chu~

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

“Sae!”

The clacking of your high heels echoed throughout the airport as you chase your damn little brother.

What a sight out of a bad Netflix series, except it’s real life. But this is more like a horror movie for a celebrity like you. In your pristine clothes and all, chasing like a wild animal!

“Sae!” You huffed, trying to catch up with him.

Damn, that soccer player with his long legs.

What is a celebrity like me ME chasing a mere man down like that! -

That is exactly what your manager thought too, as he tries to keep up with you.

So, how did you exactly come to this point of peak desperation?

It all started last night when Sae relayed to you that he’s going back to Spain straight after the Japan U-20 match.

In all honesty, you didn’t really care all that much since an idol like you had better things to do (^-^)v.

Then it struck you. As a good sister… I should stop him!

Unlucky for you, being oblivious to all else except idol-related issues is your biggest flaw.

To put it simply, you were pretty dumb when it comes to relationships.

And that was the start of your plan to “stop” Sae from returning to Spain.

Lucky for you, Sae was smart. He halted his steps and said, “Sister, are you stupid?”

But his EQ wasn’t all that great.

“S-stupid?” You stuttered out at his bluntness.

“Yes.”

Sae looked around their surroundings noting that they had already caught the attention of some prying eyes.

Sigh

Sae continued, “Just go back home.”

“But,” you gave him your best puppy eyes. V✪ω✪V

But, indeed, he was unaffected by your usual antics.

“What business do you even have in Spain?”

“Well~ the business of being a good sister!”

A tangible silence ensues from the absurdity.

“Idiot.”

“Sae, is this how you see your sister? As an idiot, uncaring sister?” You asked him squarely still trying to put on your Oscar-worthy acting skills.

Alas, Sae did not respond to you but instead said, “I’ll let you know when I reach Spain.”

Sae entered his departure terminal leaving his pouty older sister.

Sighing, he looked back and gave you a little wave, after seeing you smile, he walked further in until you couldn’t see him.

Besides the two celebrities — a top idol and football prodigy — was their manager profusely bowing to each other to apologise for today's event.

Being a manager is not an easy job, especially when attending to the Itoshi siblings who do not have the best attitude.

Your manager turned to you, “Let’s get on with our schedule today shall we?”

“Did that act look like I was a very caring sister?”

Caught off guard by your question, Mr manager stuttered out a yes.

You let out a satisfied grin.

Job done !＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

Mr manager sighed.

–

Inside the car, you asked Mr Manager what your schedule was for today.

“A commercial shoot for this up-and-coming game you will be promoting, a meeting with our sponsors and…”

And everything else that came out of his mouth just drowned out. You checked your phone and saw no reply from Rin.

I wonder how Rin is feeling after crying so much that day…

“Also, someone called our studio just now. It was a German man — I’m not sure what he said but he did mention your name specifically, and he addressed you by your real name.”

Your ears perked up.

“A German man who knows my real name?”

In your life, you only personally know one German man and his name is Kaiser something.

You met him a few years back in Germany. You thought he was an extremely unintelligent person as he kept speaking to you in German even though you didn’t understand a single word that exited his mouth.

You remembered he kept saying “Süße” (*sweetie) and he would always kiss the back of your hand, which you thought was a German thing.

What a culture shock it was, people in foreign countries sure do have a very different way of greeting people compared to in Japan.

“So did that man mention his name?” You turned to Mr manager.

“Michael Kaiser. He also left his personal phone number it seems.”

“Give me that number.” You held your hand out.

“D-do you even know this man? He could be a stalker!”

“Maybe~”

“Maybe?!” Mr Manager raised his voice, then he paused for a moment, “Hold on, that name Michael Kaiser sounds real familiar…”

As Mr manager wreck his head about that, you thought back about this Kaiser person.

Back when you were having your world tour in Germany, you had some free time to explore the streets of Germany. So you snuck out of your hotel room, it was all fun and games until you lost your way in a foreign country you have never visited before.

As a young girl, stuck in an unfamiliar country, unfamiliar street, and unfamiliar language, you could only cry.

That was when you met Kaiser.

Ah! How embarrassing it was to cry in the middle of nowhere now that you think about it! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

So pathetic of me!

Both of you were pretty much strangers, you were surprised he remembered you and how he still managed to find you.

Oh! I really am a worldwide star! ↖(^ω^)↗

You giggled to yourself.

“Ah, I remember now!” Mr manager exclaimed, practically screaming into your ears.

You pushed Mr manager away and side-eyed him, “What is it?!”

“Michael Kaiser! He is a popular prodigy football player from Germany!”

Football player?

“Is being a football player a popular occupation these days?”

So this Kaiser person is a football player too? And a prodigy at that too? The world really has no shortage of prodigies huh?

Of all the football players you know, all of them are dubbed prodigies. That being said, you only know three football players — Sae, Rin and now, Kaiser.

“Mr manager, don’t tell me you are a football prodigy too?”

“Surely you jest, miss. I-if I was a prodigy,” he hesitated for a second then said in a hushed voice, “I wouldn’t be working for you.”

“What did you say?” You frowned at him.

“N-nothing!”

“As punishment for saying that, go call that Kaiser person and ask what business he has with me.”

“But I don’t speak German!”

“Go figure it out then!”

I shouldn’t have said that Mr manager berated himself.

“Oh, after my schedule, drive me to that restaurant I told you about,” you snickered, “I’m going on a ‘date’ with my youngest brother.”

—

“Did you wait long?”

You tapped your younger brother who seemed lost in thought.

“No… I just arrived too.”

He visibly looked disturbed by something and you knew exactly what it was.

“Are you still upset by your brother?”

Rin clenched his fist and swallowed down his frustration.

You placed your hand over his clenched fist and pacified him, “Don’t let it get to you alright? Sae is still going through puberty!”

A few days ago you booked (more like Mr manager booked) a private room in a fancy hotel restaurant, to treat Rin to something nice since you thought he looked pretty melancholic.

“Sister, puberty ends at the age of 16 for males.”

“Well, Sae will forever be a little boy to me! Anyways, order what you want! This sister of yours will be treating you so order up!”

You took a glimpse of the menu and salivate at the picture of the A5 Wagyu steak. Oh, how succulent and fatty it will be!

However, you reminded yourself that you have to watch your weight. As an idol, one cannot stress the importance of weight management.

You used all your 10 fingers to mentally count how much you’ve eaten today.

You grimly looked at the wagyu steak and fries and decided to go for a simple duck confit with a side of salad.

Rin glances toward you to see what you are ordering and saw you intensely glaring at the picture of a steak.

“I’ll get the duck confit with salad, what about you?” You close the menu bidding farewell to the steak.

“The wagyu steak for me,” Rin replied.

You signalled the waiter and placed the order.

After ordering, what followed was an air of silence and strong awkward energy.

After being an absent sister for god knows how many years, you’ve never really communicated much with this teenager Rin. You were only close to him when he was just a teeny tiny boy playing football with Sae. Even then, he was still closer to Sae.

Rin will only approach you whenever he was upset with Sae. He will then subsequently cry to you about his problems. Now he still cries to you as you recollect the day the U-20 match was over and Rin poured his heart out.

Not knowing how to proceed with this conversation or the lack thereof, you prompted him with a question, “Do you have a girlfriend?” (๑╹ω╹๑ )

Rin stared at you as if you were joking around, “I do not have time for that.”

“Is football the only thing on your mind?”

“Yes.”

“You are just like your brother.” You frowned at Rin and the other little one.

Rin’s resentment grew inside of him like a tumour as he is reminded of his brother.

Uh-Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.

You quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Ooohhhh look at this Rin! The photo for my photoshoot! Don’t I look absolutely gorgeous here?” You held up your phone and nervously giggled.

Rin eyed at your phone.

“It looks alright.”

“Just alright?”

Just like a game of ping pong, it’s your turn to seethe. In your list of top 100 things that annoy you, to have someone not acknowledge your beauty was number 97! It’s on the lowest scale because 9 out of 10 times, people will appreciate your beauty. The rest are just haters! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Humph! I’ll let that slide just because you are Rin-Rin.

You tried to think of a topic and were reminded of something.

“So what’s the deal with Blue Lock? Are you doing well there?”

Rin summarised his full experience in Blue Lock and he didn’t forget to sprinkle in his hate for this boy called Isagi and of course your other little brother.

Your little brother really needs to get some therapy with all these astonishing degrees of anger and hatred.

Then the food came interrupting Rin’s heated tirade on how much he hated Isagi and Sae.

You both had a hearty dinner and Rin kept shoving beef steak onto your plate despite you saying no, so you had no choice but to eat it.

It was a very conflicting experience having to eat something you love yet having calorie restrictions.

The life of an idol sure is tough.

After finishing dinner, both of you left the restaurant. Before leaving the hotel, you excused yourself to the toilet.

The toilet was so far you could’ve just walked half a marathon, not to mention it was secluded at the very corner of the hotel.

You sighed, at least I think I burned some calories.

“Süße!”

“!!!” You felt someone’s hand snaking around your waist. ⊙▽⊙

Thinking it's some creepy stalker of yours, you reflexively swatted the hand away. But the person in question was firm.

Perfume wafted through your nose as he presses his body against yours.

You let out a soft squeak at the contact. (〃ω〃)

Finally making eye contact with the man, you realise it was someone you know.

“Kaiser?” He smiled like a Cheshire Cat as you mention his name.

“Meine Leibe,” he brought you to a warm embrace, to which you similarly return his hug.

German’s greetings sure involve lots of skin contact, you thought to yourself as you felt Kaiser’s heat radiating through you.

He finally released you from the hug.

You quickly took notice of the rose tattoo that seemed to go from his neck down to his left arm which he didn’t have before when you met him in Germany.

You pointed to his tattoo to somewhat question him since you didn’t speak a lick of German.

He lifted his left hand for you to have a better look. You held onto his hand to inspect the tattoo but he had a better idea. He pushed his hands against your lips.

A soft shriek escaped you.

Your lipstick was sure to have stuck onto his hand. And more importantly, you have to reapply your lipstick!

What is this man thinking! ಠ╭╮ಠ

While you quickly reached out to your purse for your lipstick, you saw Kaiser bring his left hand to his own lips staining his lips in the process from your peripheral.

When you finished reapplying your lipstick, Kaiser was intently watching you.

You instinctively tried to rub off your lipstick from his lips but he was faster to grab your wrist and pulled you closer to him, so close that you were just a few inches away from his lips.

What’s wrong with Germans and their love for skin contact? Is this normal in Germany?

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long, meine liebe,” Kaiser said in German.

You drew a big fat question mark in your head. ( •́ ⍨ •̀)

What did he just say? And why does he look like he’s going in for a kiss?

True enough, Kaiser brought his lips to your lips. He invited his tongue through your parted lips tasting you for the very first time. He allowed his hands to yet again snake around your waist pulling you closer to him as if you weren’t already stuck to him.

What is this? This is a German greeting too right? ╭( ๐ _๐)╮

His other hand found its way to your chin. He tilted your chin slightly up to deepen the kiss.

As much as dancing your tongue with an old German friend was exciting, you couldn’t help but realise you were still in public. What if someone saw you?

You place both hands on Kaiser’s chest, slightly pushing him away and breaking the kiss.

“What’s wrong, Liebling?” His hands are still on your waist, trying to pull you back to him.

“Sister?”

You quickly detach yourself from Kaiser catching a glimpse of Rin from the corner.

You noticed that he was blushing. Oh, he definitely saw all that.

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

“Rin!” You exclaimed feeling like you were caught in the middle of some illegal act.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?”

That’s unbelievable, never in your whole life have you had a so-called “boyfriend”. What is Rin on to make him believe that?

“Then, why were you kiss-”

You promptly interrupted Rin from his imagination, “This is my friend, Kaiser!”

You pointed over to Kaiser, and he took the opportunity to catch your hand into his grip and ultimately hold your hand.

“-just a friend,” you tried explaining it to Rin. (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Rin, however, looked over at his sister and the blonde-with-blue-streaks-haired man who is almost as tall as Sae, who was just a second ago kissing so intimately and now holding hands like a couple would behave.

Hard to believe they are not a couple; what kind of friends eat out each other's face.

Kaiser? Rin ruminates on that name.

Rin knows a Kaiser who looks just exactly like him.

“Michael Kaiser,” Rin carefully enunciates his name, which causes the man himself to grin at him.

“Rin-Rin, you know him?”

“Prodigy player and also a member of the New Generation World XI,” said Rin glaring at Kaiser. (⩺_⩹)

In response, Kaiser didn’t say a word but just responded with the usual smug grin.

“What? When did you learn German, Rin-Rin?”

“What’s your relationship with my sister?” Rin continued to question Kaiser.

Kaiser brought your hand to his lips and gave it a gentle peck, “what do you think, Itoshi Rin?”

“You know me?”

“The little brother of Japan's football prodigy, Itoshi Sae, and you who will always live in his shadows as a nobody.” Kaiser snickered at Rin.

Raw anger shot through him. He yet again clenched his hand into a tight fist, seething with anger. Every word from him stung him.

Unsure of where this conversation is leading, you stared in confusion. That was until you saw Rin sudden change in mood.

What had made the conversation turn so sour for Rin?

You were dumb but your EQ was not that severe to not see that Rin was somehow at the losing end of the conversation.

You let go of Kaiser’s hand and ran to your little brother.

“What’s wrong?”

You saw the dark, gravel look on him almost as if he was about to break someone’s joint.

Placing a hand over his back and patting him just as you did when he was younger, you guided him down the hotel’s hallway towards the exit.

“Let’s go home.”

“Meine leibe?”

He received no response from you, instead he only saw your retreating figure.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

< you have reached the end! thank you for reading babes! (〃∀〃)ゞ I really appreciate all the love you are giving to this ongoing series! look forward to more spine-crawling fluff! ʅ（´◔౪◔）ʃ *evil laugh* the harem begins now>

Part 3

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jo-harrington · 2 years

Text

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

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