#the funny part is high school was probably some of my best years

[rosicheeks]

raspberry lavender sky sapphire rainbow rose burgundy? 💖💖💖

-🌸

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point. 

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well. 

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size. 

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

[estrellami-1]

Ten Minutes

Didn’t love this when I first wrote it. Left it in my drafts for a LONG freakin’ time. Found it again and no longer care, so here yall go; have fun! Probably not a part 2 to this one.

Steve takes a breath, then another, as he waits for the line to connect. He grits his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He does his best to ignore them.

“Munson residence, if you’re calling about the murders I’ve been absolved of, try going to hell instead.”

“I need you to pick me up.”

A pause. “Stevie?”

Steve takes another breath. Tries to unclench his jaw. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there- what-”

“My parents are in town.”

Another pause. “I��ll be there in ten. Try not to kill them.”

Steve laughs humorlessly. “Just hurry.”

“Ten minutes,” Eddie says, and hangs up.

Steve sighs, places the phone in its socket, and turns back to face his parents.

His mother is narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that?”

“A friend,” he says lightly.

“Who, that Hagan boy?” His father scoffs.

“No. Not Tommy. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Oh, Steve,” his mother tuts. “Always so dramatic. We’ve not even been gone a year-”

Steve laughs. It sounds hollow. “Try four years,” he informs her. “And three concussions. Did you hear about the mall two years ago? Or the boy who went missing four years ago?” He shakes his head when his mother looks at him blankly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father snaps. “And don’t you dare speak to your mother in that tone again, Steven. You’re still a child and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you as such.”

“I’m twenty,” Steve says evenly. “I’ll be twenty-one in five months.” He crosses his arms. “The last time you saw me, I was a freshman in high school. I’ve graduated. I found jobs. Lost some friends and made some better ones.”

“And what of that girl you were dancing around?” His mother asks. “Karen’s daughter?”

“We’re friends,” he says shortly, then moves through the kitchen, to the stairs. “Excuse me.”

“No,” his father says. “You’re not excused. Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve turns, one hand on the bannister, to look at the man who had terrified him the last time he’d seen him. It’s funny what interdimensional threats will do. “To pack a bag. I’m not going to stay here while you are.”

“And if I were to say we’re staying for good?”

Steve laughs. “Dad, you’ve said that before. Multiple times, actually. Those words mean nothing to me anymore.”

“And where are you planning on staying?” His mother asks. “Honestly, Steven, I thought we raised you to make better decisions than this.”

“Oh, I see. So it was raising me when I woke up at nine years old to discover you’d left and I’d have to find my own way to school. Then a week later when I had to ride my bike to the store to buy groceries. At eleven, when I looked the school counselor in the eye and said you’d be back soon. I had to go to my own parent-teacher conferences. At fifteen, trying to figure out high school classes. At seventeen when I got my first concussion. At eighteen when I signed my first legally-binding NDA. You hadn’t abandoned me. You were raising me.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

He makes his way up to his room and packs as much as he can. Clothes. Vinyls. The box of cash under the loose floorboard. Then into the bathroom. Toothbrush, deodorant, even his shampoo. Doubles back into his room to grab a bracelet off his nightstand; one El made him.

He looks around, grabs the nail bat, and makes his way downstairs. His mother gasps when she sees him. “What on earth is that?”

He looks at the bat. Adjusts his grip, twirls it around. “An NDA.”

The doorbell rings. Steve grabs his bags and moves towards it. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never walk back in.”

“Fine by me,” Steve says. He grabs his keys, tosses the house key at his father, and pockets the rest.

He opens the door and grins at Eddie, who’s looking at him worriedly. “Hey, Eds. Ready to go?”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Sure? Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. “I’m getting kicked out. If you don’t want to take me I’ll just go bug Robin. It’ll only be for a little while, though, just until I find a better job and an apartment or something.”

“Like hell Wayne’s gonna miss this chance,” Eddie grins. “You know you’re his favorite.”

Steve smiles back, tosses his things into the back of Eddie’s van. “I hoped you were gonna say that.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

[delusional-mushroom]

Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Autism creature reader ii

Apparently you all like this? Sorry about the long wait, school’s been kicking my ass lately.

Anyway, here’s part 2, Bon appétit

Part i | Part ii

You fell.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

All you remember was waking up to Speckle slithering on your face and- HOLY CRAP YOUR WING SHOULD NOT BEND LIKE THAT

After about 10 minutes of wallowing in your pain, you slowly got up.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow

You took a moment to take in the situation. Your clothes, as well as the ground beneath you, we’re stained in gold. It was hard to miss the golden blood trailing behind you too.

There was also a crater in the ground where you fell.

You see the Hazbin hotel in the distance and with the obvious attitude of “What could go wrong?” You sauntered towards the looming building

Speckle took over sight duty on the way tho. The Bright sign posts and the occasional dumpster fires rubbing salt on the metaphorical wound of your approaching melt down.

When you finally got there, you uncovered your eyes and stood outside for a few minutes before finally gathering up the courage to knock on the door.

Luckily for you, it’s Charlie who opens the door.

You exchange awkward greetings, Charlie beating around the bush of asking you the casual question of you know, why the fuck you’re in hell?

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you nervously fiddle with your thumbs

“So Uhm, I uh, fell, I guess.”

After the initial shock, concern, and confusion, Charlie welcomed you with open arms

At first, the hotel residents didn’t know what to make of you

Vaggie was pretty neutral with you, you seemed alright enough in heaven and if you weren’t gonna make a fuss neither would she.

That is, until she found you making yourself a cup of cocoa at two in the morning.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumbled when she questioned you, hand stretched towards you as if she held her spear to you throat. Did she sleep with the thing? Who knows.

She dropped her arm and took in your disheveled appearance. That seemed to check out. It seemed tonight wasn’t good for you either. “What about you?” She heard you ask drowsily.

“Nightmare.” She said. It was cold and blunt as she turned on the kettle and carelessly threw a teabag inside of a mug. ‘Best girlfriend ever’ it read in black. A gift from charlie, she smiled at the thought.

“Wanna talk about it?” You tested. This situation was more awkward than you wanted to deal with. At least the noise of the kettle in the background filled up the silence.

Vaggie turned to you, the ghost of a smile lingering on her face. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad.

And since then you and her talked about what was bothering you. Or not. Sometimes you just sit next to each other, a cup of cocoa in both of your hands and enjoy each other’s company.

Angel found you funny

Fat nuggets 🤝 you.

Whenever Angel has to go to the studio, he leaves Fat Nuggets with you.

Whether its for you to watch the pig, or the pig to watch you, well… thats up to you.

He probably won’t open up to you about Valentino

But if he does, the stupid bald moth asshole can expect a lot of passive aggressive [special interest] themed notes that come seemingly nowhere.

Sir Pentious didn’t know what to make of you at first.

To him, you were some random child that showed up one day and could go from staring into someones soul for minutes on end without blinking, to looking like you were on the brink of tears if you hands brushed against a nope texture.

Eventually though, you ask about his inventions.

Bro had a whole “your asking about my theories? I’ve waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!” Moment.

(If you get that reference I love you)

You become hyper-fixation buddies.

You and Nifty don’t get along too well…

“YOU LEAVE THE ROACHES ALONE!” You shriek, holding two bugs high above you hear as the short little menace tries to get to them, knife brandished.

“NEVER!” She laughed back a crazed look in her eye.

…that wasn’t fun. Rest in piece Sir Bob and dame Jane.

Whenever you zone out in front of Husk, he pours a glass of apple juice and gently places it in front of you, eyeing you every now and then, a concerned look in his eyes.

Alastor finds you amusing.

He tried making a deal with you on your first day.

Now Vaggie won’t let him within a 3 meter radius of you.

When you meet Lucifer, he takes one look at you, Speckle coiled around your neck and a bottle of apple juice in your hands and just immediately goes “🫠”

He’s your father now. There’s no getting out of it. Why would even you want to tho?

Hyper-fixation buddy #2

You both rant about your special interests to each other

Be prepared to be bombarded with rubber ducks.

Meanwhile, in heaven…

Everyone: wHeRe iS tHe cHiLd?

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

Priscilla Lane (Arsenic and Old Lace, Saboteur, The Roaring Twenties)— I see Priscilla Lane in Arsenic and Old Lace every year during my Halloween rewatch, and I always love watching her. She had a rubber-face for comedy, while still looking adorable no matter what funny face she’s making. She seems to have had a slightly fuller mouth than was the thin-lipped vogue at the time, and every time she pouts at her forgetful new husband, she looks so gosh-darn kissable that you understand completely why Cary Grant is so wild to get her on the train to Niagra for crazy honeymoon sex. No wonder this movie nearly got Hayes coded for the newlyweds being too hot for each other.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

Priscilla Lane:

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 116

Part 1 Part 115

Steve’s counting the days until winter break. Something’s settled within him, now that things have been hashed out with Eddie, and he’s ditched his car and old house key. He wants to go home. But there’s a good week left of pretending to still care about schoolwork along with the rest of the seniors. 

High school, as always, is a powder keg Steve can’t wait to get out of – all it takes is a single lit match and the whole barrel’s going up in flames, taking all nearby bystanders down with it. Steve’s never been good at keeping his distance. 

Carol and Tommy used to be his crutches. They both know how to look out for the striking of the match, when to step back, and when to blow it out. They’d circle him like feral wolves protecting their fresh kill. 

Steve’s always been good at reading people’s moods, but never the room. And now that Carol’s on the fringes of the in-crowd, and Steve’s drop-kicked himself out entirely, all they’ve got left is Tommy, and he’s more likely to be holding the match.

Steve’s dressed down for gym for the first time in weeks, his doctor’s note apparently the only stay of execution he’d receive. He’s excited, is the thing. He’s not even particularly bothered by the looks the other guys are throwing him in the locker room, knows there are scars now that there weren’t the last time he was in here: most notably shiny pink burns speckled across his back.

It doesn’t matter. He wants to move.

Hargrove snorts. “I knew you were into some kinky shit, Harrington,” he drawls from across the locker room. “But this is sick, even for you.” 

Steve pulls his shirt down and slips his shoes on without untying them, ready to get out of there. It doesn’t stop Hargrove from calling after him.

“Is that what you let those freaks do when you were all tied up?”

Steve doesn’t mean to turn back, but he does, confusion taking over his higher brain functions. Hargrove’s smirking, a few of his cronies hanging on to his every word and laughing right along with him.

Hagan’s not laughing. His fists are bunched and he’s glaring at Steve, but Steve still knows him. Tommy has never been an angry guy. The anger’s always been a veneer, spread thin, to cover up something else. His hands are shaking right now, like he’s not sure whether to punch Steve or hug him. He’s sucking on his bottom lip like he wishes it was Steve’s.

Steve turns his back to him, and hears his laugh, a smack of skin. He doesn’t look back. 

There will probably always be a Steve that lives inside of him that misses Tommy Hagan. The same Steve that remembers being small in the backseat of his parent’s car and just wants the idea of them back. But, that’s the Steve of years ago from a simpler, shallower time. The Steve of now has people who love him enough to stay when things get hard.

Would Tommy ever have opened his home to Steve when he got kicked out? Would Tommy have ever walked through hell to get him back?

Soccer’s not a high-contact sport, but Hargrove sure does his best to make it one. 

Basketball skills don’t translate well to it, but there’s a certain level of athleticism that makes most hand-to-eye coordination tenible. None of which explains the way Hargrove’s foot keeps slipping when he tries to kick the ball and bashing into Steve’s shins. 

None of which explains the way his shoulder checks Steve’s with enough force to send him sprawling. Twice. 

And he keeps saying shit.

“I get why you’d let those two redheads fuck with you,” Hargrove calls, looking up and down Steve’s own body like he’s trying to picture something tawdry.  “Hell, Carol’s a tight piece of ass.”

He grins smamirly over at Hagan, either not noticing or simply not caring that Hagan’s face has dropped all its forced joviality. 

“But those kids? My sister?” he continues, still grinning like it’s funny. “What are you, some sort of pedophile?”

“I don’t know your sister, man,” Steve calls, disgust twisting in his stomach, knotting his intestines up in creative bows. 

Steve kick, kick, passes the ball around Hargrove’s weak defense, hoping Hargrove will follow the ball. He doesn’t. 

“Even worse, you let Munson in on that action?” he taunts, staring Steve down. 

Steve looks past him, watching his temporary teammate score an easy goal against a goalie who’s clearly never played a sport in his life. He doesn’t know what Hargrove’s on about, but engaging with vipers never leads anywhere good. 

It doesn’t stop him from spewing more poison. “I always knew you were a freak.” He says it like he’d rather fling a different word that starts with the letter F. 

The teacher blows his whistle at them, shouting complaints about lazing about and lollygagging, so they’re all three forced to run to the other side of the field and catch up with the rest of the game. That doesn’t stop Hargrove from running his mouth. 

“Hell, I heard all sorts of rumors about the three of you, back when you were the king. Carol, Tommy, and Steve, the inseparable trio.” Even through all the monologuing, he doesn’t even have the decency to be out of breath. 

Steve’s lived a far more sedentary life this past year, and he’s panting now, forehead tacky with sweat. But, there’s a certain level of athleticism it takes years to lose, so he still keeps up. 

“I know Carol was Tommy’s girl,” Hargrove continues, lunging around Steve to stop the ball, kicking it from foot to foot with coordinated ease. “But I heard you were taking it just as much as she was.” 

Hargrove feints left, right, scores a goal, running backward to get back on defense without turning his grinning face away from Steve’s. 

“Who would've thought King Steve was a fa–”

Tommy Hagan’s fist interrupts Hargrove’s little speech. It connects with a meaty thwack! with Hargrove’s jaw, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. 

So: powder keg, lit match, ka-boom!

“What the fuck were you just going to call me?” Hagan snarls. 

He swings again until Hargrove rolls them over and starts swinging back. Steve stares, stunned as the teacher blows his whistle and starts running. 

He can almost hear Eddie’s soapbox rant. Something about testosterone, and projection, and the homoeroticism of high school sportsball. 

Both boys are bloody and seething by the time they’re pulled apart and escorted to the principal’s office. 

He intercepts Carol at Barbara’s car after school to tell her what happened, unsurprised when she just laughs. 

“Serves him right,” she says grinning and peering into the parking lot like she might catch sight of his bloodied face. 

“Should we do something about the rumors?” he asks, whispering the last word like if someone hears it, they’ll immediately spew homophobic slurs in both of their directions.

Carol just waves her hand dismissively. “Nah, that’ll just fan the flames.” She wraps her hand around his waist and squeezes, fingers tucked proprietarily beneath his t-shirt. “Go home and this’ll all blow over by next week.”

He tells Eddie what happened on the way home.

Eddie cackles. “Of course it would happen in gym,” he says, grinning as he runs a vacant stop sign without even a rolling stop. “All that testosterone running through their bodies until they’ve just got to touch each other.”

Steve settles in to listen to his rant, delighted when he guessed most of the beats Eddie would hit just right. 

He should be surprised when Hargrove and Hagan are sitting next to each other at lunch the next day, laughing and shit-talking as if the whole school isn’t still atwitter about their all-out brawl the day before. 

He should be, but he’s not. Tommy and Carol have always been good at playing the game, and it looks like Tommy’s determined to stay on the board. 

Steve and Carol trade a commiserating lunch, and go back to their respective conversations. Tommy’s been given chance after chance to make a different choice, but he never does. Steve’s not about to light his own match for an old friend who’d never burn right along with him.

Steve counts down the days until he can go home, and stay there with Eddie, for weeks on end. Four, three, two, one. 

Home.

Part 117

[sushiwriterhere]

pink light

summary: "He had done as best as he could, had stayed through a pizza dinner huddled on your bed. Your mom had tried to soothe you after he’d left, promising you’d find your person, that it wouldn’t always feel this way, being the butt of the joke. You didn’t really believe her–but how do you describe feeling like you’re always walking into the middle of a conversation, missing out on the inside joke and not really ever belonging?”  rating: teen + up pairing: jake seresin x f!reader (unrequited) word count: ~4k warnings: unrequited love, angst, potentially ooc!, no use of y/n.  notes: this is my first fic in a long while and my first attempt at top gun/writing hangman. also incredibly self indulgent and therapeutic – please feel free to tell me what you think!!! not beta'd <3 after some consideration, I have decided I will not be writing a second part to this fic.

If you had to describe your relationship with Jake Seresin, how you knew him, you’d probably say friends since childhood, fellow military brats, maybe even Thing 1 and Thing 2. You two were inseparable from the moment your parents introduced you. Despite any worries about Jake being a few years older, he took you under his wing. There you stayed–ever his dutiful shadow. He’d invite you to parties, let you sit on the sidelines during sports practices, field snide comments about your relationship. 

Now, here you were however many years later, having followed him to Fightertown after a brief stint of separation during college and him in flight school. You’d followed your parents desires dutifully, getting a degree in something ‘useful’ and maintained a slew of internships, part time jobs, and your studies all at the same time. But all you ever really wanted was a routine, a quieter place in the world. Your classmates went off to graduate school, first-year positions at big consulting companies, and all you wanted to do was be near Jake.

To his credit, he’d taken it completely in stride. He’d helped you apartment hunt and settle in, had talked to Penny about getting you a job and so there you were, reunited again. Except something was different. 

It was a secret to absolutely no one that you loved Jake, deeply. At first your parents had laughed quietly at the puppy love, the way you quietly followed him around, blinking owlishly behind your glasses and just nodding along to whatever he was blabbering on about at the time. Then it was a bit less funny, watching Jake go through high school and all of a sudden be tall, blonde, and handsome. You didn’t really have the words for what you felt, so you just watched as he had girlfriend after girlfriend, each of them treating you with a range of emotions from kindness to outright disdain. 

It had been especially bad once–you’d been asked out as a joke by one of the more popular kids in your grade. You’d shyly accepted before being met by laughter that echoed around the hallways, everyone turning to look (if they weren’t observing already). 

Your mom picked you up early that day. 

“I’m going to beat his ass.” Jake burst through your bedroom door, interrupting your quiet sniffling and causing you to jump with surprise, “Tell me who it is and I’ll fix it.”

You paused your crying to force out, “It’s fine, Jake.”

The scowl on his face was as dark as a thousand nights, “Oh it absolutely is not. I’ll make his life a living hell next year.”

And there he was, saving the day as always. You’d cried harder that night after he left, apologizing but he “had a date” that he couldn’t miss, not even for you. He had done as best as he could, had stayed through a pizza dinner huddled on your bed. Your mom had tried to soothe you after he’d left, promising you’d find your person, that it wouldn’t always feel this way, being the butt of the joke. You didn’t really believe her–but how do you describe feeling like you’re always walking into the middle of a conversation, missing out on the inside joke and not really ever belonging?

So when you and Jake had drifted slightly during his time in flight school and your eventual transition to college, there again was that feeling. Like you were watching your own life on an old TV, trying to tune the frequency and always coming back in in the middle of the plot, not sure where you were supposed to be and with whom. The calls became infrequent, more apologies than actual conversation. Then the first deployment happened, and the letters were brief, impersonal. 

Somehow, even now, in the same town, in an apartment not far from base, from where he lived, you felt like there was a part of the story you were missing. You tried not to let it gnaw at you but seeing him come to the Hard Deck with his buddies, sitting there on the sidelines for beach football, seeing how close he had gotten with the other fighter pilots in your absence–now that stung. 

But you had to focus on the everyday, the constants.

“That better not be a phone on my bar!” Penny’s voice rang out over the din of the shouting in the bar, and you felt yourself laugh as you watched Mav’s face turn bright red. 

“I’d be happy to re-open that tab of yours, Maverick.” You grinned at him, and he shook his head.

“I knew I should’ve stopped Hangman from talking Penny into hiring you, you’re more on her side than mine.” You smiled at the man, glad for his presence–besides you knew he didn’t mean it. 

Your parents were far away, and though they loved you, they were always just a bit detached. Military parents just tended to be like that in your experience. So having Mav and Penny around really made Fightertown feel like home. And certainly, having Jake around didn’t hurt at all (despite the distance). 

And like speaking the name of the devil, over the chaos you heard your name–Jake.

“How’s my favorite bartender doing?” You’d never get over that smile of his, the one he reserved for you (at least you hoped). It was all teeth, crinkles by his eyes, and joy. 

You shook your head, “No matter how much you flatter me, I’m not giving you free beer.”

“You wound me,” the smile never faltered, “But I’m actually not here for a free drink. I’m here for all that worldly wisdom that you gain by being a bartender. Psych’s of the drinking world, something like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you poured a gin and tonic without sparing him a glance, “A major in psychology does not count as me being a psychologist, Jake.”

“Ah, see, but you’re also a woman, so that means you’re qualified to help me out.” This time, he wasn’t looking at you when you turned your attention to him. 

Look, you weren’t dumb. You’d understood since his early high school years that Jake had become a very handsome, very charming man. He’d always been cute, and you’d always thought he had a certain air about him, but somehow shooting up to a solid six-foot and spending all his time in the gym had really done it for every other woman ever. And the string of girlfriends, one night stands in between, never stopped. So you just resigned yourself to nodding along. 

Absolutely nothing about that part of Jake had changed in flight school or beyond, apparently. And he seemed determined to make his way through the female population of Fightertown. For what it was worth, at least he never let them think anything of him but exactly what he was offering–a good time, and nothing else. That’s what he wanted and what they gave him. So him asking for advice from you because you were a woman? That made something clench tight in your chest and grit your teeth just a bit. 

“So now I’m a dating guru?” A rum and coke with a smile to the patron who didn’t even glance at Jake, “Here’s your card, sir, enjoy your evening.”

When you finally made eye contact with him, he just had one eyebrow raised in that incredibly irritating way of his, “Uh, no. But you have feelings and you like poetry and shit, so I need your help.”

If there was one thing that Jake’s string of one night stands was good for, it was letting you maintain your silly daydream of him wisening up one day and seeing you the way you saw him. This, however, felt like a punch in the stomach, like someone had come in the middle of the night and stolen all the spouts off every liquor bottle in the Hard Deck. You wouldn’t necessarily be flying blind during an evening of pouring drinks, but there would be a lot of spillage and a really high chance of tears. 

“I’m not helping you manipulate some poor girl, Jacob.” The full name card; his eyebrow lowered a smidge, “Besides, why don’t you ask Phoenix? She’s a woman.”

He groaned and slumped over on the bar. Gross. You hadn’t had a chance to wipe it since the start of the evening rush, and that had been a very, very, long time ago. You ignored his mini moping session, hoping he’d give up asking you about poetry (what the hell?) and feelings. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now. 

Instead, he just stood straight up after a few moments of grumbling, smile intact as ever, “Phoenix doesn’t count, I’m pretty sure her dick is bigger than mine. But you’ll help me right? C’mon, where’s the Bug I know? You used to do anything I’d ask you to.”

A low blow, your childhood nickname. It still stung sometimes that he called you that–you hadn’t been ‘bug-eyed’ since freshman year of high school since you refused to put your middle school glasses back on and your parents had relented and let you get contacts. 

You huffed, “Leave me alone, Jake, I have to work.” You bent over to start breaking up the blocks of ice in the cooler by your feet, if only to hide the way your face was bright red. 

He slapped the bar counter, signaling his retreat, at least for now. This was not going to end well. 

-

Not going to end well? That was the understatement of the year. Whichever girl Jake had his eyes on now was clearly different from the others. He hung around after your shift to annoy you again, and this time he would not take no for an answer. Following you around as you closed, he lifted kegs and moved twenty pound bags of ice, all the while managing to maintain a monologue all about this girl. At some point you almost considered breaking a beer bottle over his head if only to get him to stop talking for ten seconds. 

“Listen, just this once, okay? I just really want your help. Tell me what to do.” How was his voice carrying from where he was under the pool table, scraping gum off the underside. “God, this is fucking disgusting–Penny makes you do this every night? It looks like this hasn’t been cleaned since she bought it.”

Penny actually pretended she couldn’t see the nasty shit stuck under the pool tables, but Jake was annoying you enough that it didn’t matter. Anything to get him to stop asking you for advice about this girl. 

“Please shut the fuck up or go home.” The sound of you throwing a wet rag into the bucket by your feet echoed throughout the empty bar. 

You’d had enough. At this point it was almost four in the morning and all you wanted was to lay down for the next forty-eight hours and not think about anyone or anything. 

His head popped out from underneath the table with a look of surprise. You usually didn’t tell him off, at least seemingly content with letting him prattle on about whatever he felt. There was a good flow, sometimes he’d listen to you complain and other times he’d rest his cheek on the bartop and talk about a particularly bad flight drill. This was clearly different.

You hoped you didn’t look as exasperated as you felt, but you saw the sag in his shoulders at your expression, “Right. Sorry.”

You hated it when he did that–you knew it wasn’t on purpose but it took all the air out of the room when he was upset. But this time you were upset enough that you ignored the tug in your stomach at the heavy silence in the room. 

“Look, I’m finished closing here, and I just really want to go home.” 

The two of you maintained an uneasy silence as you shut off the lights and locked the doors behind you. You did your best not to meet his eyes, the overhead lights of the parking lot casting funny shadows on his face that made him look much younger than he actually was. Sometimes you thought you couldn’t breathe when he looked like that–like when you’d first met, attention always focused on you as you followed him around. 

“I upset you. I’m sorry.” His lips were pursed in a flat line, but he was looking at you like he was trying to understand something. 

Suddenly, the gravel beneath your feet was the most interesting thing in the world. That was, until he pulled you into his arms and squeezed you tight. There he was, enveloping you, burying you in the smell of something so distinctly Jake it made you dizzy with want and hope. 

“It’s okay. Drive me home?” 

You felt him nod against your head, and you silently let him go. His arms didn’t drop from your shoulders until a few moments later. He always did that and somehow it was the worst and best thing in your life. 

-

It wasn’t until your shift the next day that what had transpired between you two hit you fully watching him act sheepish and lay it on thick for who he was evidently asking you about. She was beautiful–tan skin, a wide smile, and bright eyes. Her laugh sounded like music and she was dressed just right, like she was putting in effort but still casual enough for a bar like the Hard Deck. 

You wanted to be sick. Scream, cry, whatever it took. Again, you weren’t entirely naive, but Jake had never made it so obvious to you. There had always been an ocean, an eight hour flight–something, anything, separating your realities. He’d always maintained that you were someone special to him but this felt like your world was shattering in front of your eyes. 

It was embarrassing to admit, but at least the high school girlfriends and the one night stands were easy enough to watch pass by. You two moved around too much for any high school sweetheart nonsense, and by the way Jake made flight school sound, he was clearly more focused on being top of his class than anything else. 

At the very least, the universe seemed to pity you if only for the moment. The Hard Deck was incredibly busy on a Friday night, and it only took a few patrons to block your line of sight to your worst nightmare. You worked on autopilot, letting muscle memory and the part of your brain that excelled at customer service take over. In your head, though, you were about to lose it.

All you could see was him leaning close to her, clearly whispering something hilarious into her ear, and her throwing her head back in laughter. The way his hand pressed into her waist made you sick.

It was only after closing, after everyone had been sent home, that you let yourself exhale. Sinking to the ground behind the bar, you buried your face in your hands, reeking of alcohol and all. It took everything in your not to completely break down–you still felt a few stray tears slip out. God, you were so stupid. So young, so naive. 

In that moment it didn’t feel like you had ever moved past that wide eyed six year old meeting Jake for the first time. You’d had boyfriends, kissed a few strangers, but they’d all faded into a sort of background noise whenever compared to Jake. But in that moment, it felt like you were finally hearing the beginning, middle, and end of the conversation.

Beginning: You were Jake’s little shadow, always two steps behind, always tripping over yourself to keep up. 

Middle: At some point, Jake grew up, and you didn’t. 

End: Jake was not in love with you. 

-

Penny took one look at your face when you walked in for your Saturday shift and immediately tried to send you home, “Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not letting you work when you look about three seconds from bawling.”

It stung but she was right. You’d gone home after Friday’s shift and sobbed yourself to sleep. Jake had tried to call in the middle of the day Saturday and you sent him to voicemail. That of course prompted several more calls, all to voicemail, and at least six text messages, all of which you left unanswered. You half expected him to show up at your place and breakdown the door, but he didn’t show. Whether that was worse or better, you hadn’t decided yet.

“Penny, I’m–Look, I’m fine. I’d actually really prefer to work, I need the distraction.” You did your best at a smile, truly hoping she would buy it. 

She narrowed her eyes at you, and gave you a once-over. By the grace of something bigger than the universe, she let you pass her into the back so you could clock in. 

You knew Jake would be here, but you just kept your head down, hoping that would somehow protect you. It was actually Phoenix who found you first, tucked in the back taking a breather from running cups and bottles of liquor so you wouldn’t have to talk to customers. 

She called your name softly and offered a small smile, “Hey, there you are.”

Phoenix and you had always gotten along. She was always sweet to you, always ribbing on the guys on your behalf, and defending you from any creep who decided to try and make a move. But she was also always dangerously observant, and you could tell that this time would be no different.

So despite everything going on around you two, she crouched down beside you, and began pulling everything out of you the way she always did, “I can tell something’s wrong. And I know it’s because of Hangman.”

That was all it took–slapping a hand over your mouth, you felt the sob rise in your throat. Clearly alarmed, she grabbed your other hand and tugged you out back, doing her best to avoid the eyeline of the other fighter pilots. Once out in the dark you sank into the sand and she rubbed your back soothingly as you let your emotions pour out. 

You left no stone unturned, spilling every part of your heart out to her. How you had been in love with Jake probably since the beginning, how you’d waited on the sidelines for your moment, how you’d gone to college on the other side of the country hoping it would help, how the distance felt like an old battle wound. And through it all, she sat and listened thoughtfully. 

“I think you should talk to him. Hangman-” She stopped herself, “Jake shouldn’t be making you feel like this, honey, no one should. But he won’t know unless you tell him.”

Despite it all, you were a romantic. When you had your first middle school crush (other than Jake) you’d marched right up to him and told him straight to his face. You went on your first date because you asked. It never made any sense when looking at every other part of you, but love was just something you couldn’t keep to yourself. Other than Jake. 

“You should talk to him.”

“Phoenix?” There he was, calling your name, “Guys? What’s going on?”

He thundered down the back stairs of the Hard Deck, shaking sand everywhere, his silhouette blocking out the light from the bar. When he spotted you kneeling in the sand with Phoenix at your side, his shoulders sagged. 

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He stopped short by Phoenix and they seemed to have some sort of wordless conversation because she stood and he plopped himself down in her stead.

You wouldn’t look at him. The world felt too big and too small at the same time, like the universe was crashing down on your head and the only thing you could manage to do was let it happen. Phoenix, that traitor, pressed her lips to your head, and walked back into the bar. 

There it was, that part of you that just couldn’t hold back its feelings rearing its ugly head. Except this time it wouldn’t be a schoolyard rejection, it wouldn’t be an awkward pizza date, it would be the end of something bigger than yourself. For a moment, you let yourself bask in what you knew, deep down, was the end of what you had been, and an uncomfortable start to where you would go. 

“Well, I clearly did something.” Jake wasn’t looking at you either–he was looking at the ocean and fiddling with a drink straw. 

“You, uh, well,” You cleared your throat, “It’s not really your fault.”

“Bug, you have like a thousand missed calls from me and probably a thousand more missed texts.” 

The tears were coming again–guilt, fear, sadness, all pouring out of you. You imagined him pacing around his apartment, wearing a hole in the carpet, trying to reach you. You imagined him calling Phoenix and asking for advice. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t that my line?” He turned to look at you, clearly hoping cracking a joke would ease the tension–no such luck. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” He stilled beside you. 

“Bug, I don’t–I can’t fix what I did if you won’t tell me.” He was looking back at the ocean, the drink straw now some sort of complicated sailor’s knot.

Swallowing roughly, you figured it was now or never, truly. You closed your eyes, pretending that this moment would be different, that what you were about to say would bring an outcome different than it really would. Maybe in another universe there would be a Jake who saw you as someone other than a younger sibling, his little shadow. 

“I love you, Jake. And there’s nothing that can fix that aside from time.”

He was quiet. There it was. 

“I’m sorry,” He dropped the nickname, using your real name, “I didn’t realize. I must’ve really hurt you with all that poetry shit.”

You felt hollow, numb from every fingertip to your core, “Right.”

“You’re brave, Bug, braver than I’ll ever be. But, I can’t–I’m not that person for you, I’m sorry.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. “I can give you space, whatever you need. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, you just sat next to him, looking out at the ocean. The moon was clear in the sky, Fightertown always maintaining a balmy, clear sky. Here you were, having followed your first, and one true, love across the country. None of it felt real. 

“Thank you, Jake. It’ll take time, but I’ll be fine.” You looked at him for the first time, truly, since things had started unraveling. 

He looked so human, so tired, under the moonlight. It pained you, but for a moment you felt that flicker in your chest, the one you felt whenever he distanced himself, the one that reminded you how human he was. He hadn’t been that little boy for a long, long time. Your days of swingsets and bike rides and childhood inside jokes were past. 

There was some part of you that knew you would be able to breathe again, if not now then in a week, a month, a year. He’d get deployed again, you’d settle back into your routine at the Hard Deck. You’d find your person, like he clearly had. 

And it was time for you to accept that.

[universecorp]

Hearbeat pt.2 Teaser

Summary: After starting a situationship with your best friend from high school, things start to become complicated. Especially when you start to catch feelings.

Jaehyun x Reader Haechan x Reader (In pt2 and 3 )

w.c.: 2.3k

Genre: Comedy, smut, and angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, small argument

PLAYLIST: ♡

Sitting in a Dennys at 2:00 AM is not how you expected your night to end. You and Donghyuck had spent the better part of an hour talking and getting to know each other. He was easy to talk to, and funny, you didn’t feel like you were forcing any of your reactions which made you feel a lot more at ease than usual.

“Wait, you're Haechan? The streamer?” Donghyuck nodded, shoveling a scoop of hash browns into his mouth. “That’s so fucking crazy, my best friend loves your streams. We used to fuck and I remember one time he got the notification for your stream and stopped mid fuck to watch you.” Donghyuck nearly choked on the strip of bacon he was munching on.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You shook your head. “That’s so sick, did he at least like pick up where he left off while watching?” Another shake. 

“I had to push him on his back and ride him.” Donghyuck laughed loudly, catching the attention of most of the other late night eaters, but it was clear he didn’t care. 

“Now that I think about it, there was this one time I read a comment and it deadass said ‘I was fucking my girl and stopped to watch.’ I thought it was probably a troll, but that might’ve been him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head once again. “There’s no way that was him, he would never refer to me as ‘his girl’ it would be kind of funny if that was him though.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement, it was all he could do since he didn’t even know Jaehyun. 

There was a small awkward silence filled only with the sounds of plates clinking and light chatter from the other patrons. Donghyuck looked like he was having a debate with himself befofe hr finally opened his mouth. “Look, uhm, I don’t usually do this, I honestly don’t usually take my hookups to pre-breakfast either, but I was wondering if I could get your number?” 

You were a bit shocked. You thought maybe this was normal and Donghyuck was just one of those nice guys who treated his fucks to post coiatal meals. Hearing otherwise brought a bit of heat to your cheeks. 

“So uh… is that a no? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Oh no, wait no, I mean yes! Yes… you can have my number.” 

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. You and big head aren’t fucking again right?” Minjeong was doing your nails on the floor of your dorm, and you were definitely making it hard since you were texting Donghyuck with the hand she was trying to get you to dry. 

“Of course not. I’m texting a new guy, I met him at that party me and Jae went to.” Minjeong perked up at the mention of a new guy. Talks like these reminded you of being a teenager, but they were always relaxing. You seriously owed Minjeong some girl time anyway with how far up Jaehyun’s ass you had been for the past year.

“So what’s his name?”

“Donghyuck, he goes here obviously, also get this, ” Minjeong leaned in “he’s that streamer that Jae likes a lot.”

“No way!?” Minjeong gasped, she accidentally swiped a little polish on your finger, but you didn’t mind.

You nodded, smiling basically ear to ear. “Yes way, and he’s so cute. He’s telling me how he wants to take me on a date this weekend!” You closed your phone to give Minjeong your undivided attention while she swiped acetone over her previous mistake.

“I’m happy for you, I know I was kind of an ass with all the ‘I told you so’, but I really just wanted you to be with  someone who treats you for what you’re worth.” You knew that, but hearing it felt really good. You always knew Minjeong was just looking out for you, but she also knew that whatever you felt for Jaehyun wasn’t going away like magic. Even now you sometimes felt a twinge of what you used to when he did certain things, but it wasn’t as strong as it was a month ago. 

“It’s ok Minnie, I know you only had my best interest.” You brought your nails hand up to blow on the wet polish. “Look on the bright side though, I went through all that and now I've learned my lesson. No more wasting time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.” 

Minjeong jostled your shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

 A week later you were with Donghyuck in his apartment, playing a co-op game called “it takes two” that he specifically bought for the date. He turned on his twitch to stream, but he left his mic off to enjoy the moment with you. He was ticking so many boxes and even Minjeong gave him the stamp of approval when he met her a couple hours ago. Everything today was perfect, he bought you flowers, ordered from your favorite takeout place and even surprised you with slippers for you to wear around the apartment. You had been seeing each other for about a month now so you figured he would be asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but you were in no rush. His gestures meant the world to you and even then just his presence was enough for you to feel satisfied. 

Now the two of you were snuggled up side by side, controllers in hand and your head on his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment, nothing except your phone which had been buzzing on the nightstand for a good two minutes. “Hey babe, I can pause if you wanna get that?” You looked up at Donghyuck with a small pout before shaking your head. You felt bad that whoever was calling you clearly didn’t get the memo that you were busy. 

“We can keep playing, I’ll talk and play, m’sorry.” Donghyuck waved it off as he waited for you to answer your phone. You rolled your eyes slightly when you saw Jaehyun’s photo, but still answered the facetime call. “What’s up loser?” You sounded less than enthused, but he should’ve expected that since you ignored his calls for two minutes. 

“God what crawled up your ass and died weirdo and why aren’t you showing your face?” Jaehyun scoffed as if his facetime screen wasn’t paused.

“Just the fact that you’ve been calling me for two minutes. What the fuck did you want? I’m kinda busy.” You cursed under your breath since you and Donghyuck failed the game stage for the fifth time. 

“First of all, I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner and come watch a movie, I’ll buy obviously. Second of all, if you’re gonna lie about being busy at least make it believable, I can hear you playing a game in the background.” Jaehyun had some fucking nerve assuming you would lie to him about being busy, but you weren’t gonna fight about it. You were gonna be civil. Even though Donghyuck had heard the way you and Jaehyun talked to each other before, he was a little annoyed that the other man was accusing you of lying. 

“Jae, I’m on a date and we’re playing a game, so I actually am very busy. 

“Wait… are you playing ‘it takes two’?” Jaehyun didn’t know about Donghyuck. He knew you had been on dates, but since he didn’t ask who with, you didn’t bother telling him it was Donghyuck A.K.A. his favorite streamer. 

“Yeah, with my date.” You knew you sounded like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had barely been hanging out with you and even then it seemed like he only wanted to when he was bored. You were trying to follow Minjeong’s and your own advice and stop wasting time on people that don’t deserve it.

“If you’re actually playing a game with your date, show your face and his, then show the tv.” You were so close to hanging up on Jaehyun, but when you saw the screen pause and suddenly your phone was being held up by Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck didn’t look happy. All of the irritation must have been building up to a point where even Jaehyun looked concerned. “Look, Jaehyun, I get it, you’re bored. I’m sure you miss having Y/N at your beck and call because you knew she would drop anything for you before.” Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Donghyuck had him closing it immediately. “Those times are past and whatever sick game you’re playing at needs to stop. Got it?” The silence on the line was loud, Donghyuck knew he made his point. “Good. Now I’m going to go back to playing games with my girlfriend, enjoy the stream Jaehyun.” With that he pressed the end call button with a sigh and immediately after you were straddling the man.

“Girlfriend huh?” 

Donghyuck set his controller down and placed his hands on your hips, it was all he could do to look cool despite the blush rushing his face. “Yeah uhm… I was going to ask you later during pillow talk after some earth shattering sex, but this is cool too I guess.” 

You giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This is cool too, don’t worry. We can still have earth shattering sex but now as boyfriend and girlfriend.” It was Donghyuck’s turn to giggle now. “Do you want to keep playing, we could even turn on the mic?” 

Haechan shook his head, “No I think it’s time for that earth shattering sex we were talking about.” You bit your lip trying to suppress a laugh, he was so goofy and hot at the same time, you didn’t understand how anyone could be capable of that. 

“I think that can be arranged…boyfriend.”

“He told you off?” Mark nearly yelled, catching the attention of several of the other students in the library. 

“Dude keep it down, we’re in a library.” Johnny reminded before focusing back on his music theory assignment. 

“Sorry, he told you off?” Mark asked again this time in a more suitable whisper.

“Yes, and she didn’t say shit bro, she just let him.” Jaehyun grumbled, taking a chip from the bag Johnny had managed to smuggle in. 

Johnny was pretty unamused with the entire situation, given that he asked if the two men wanted to study in the library, but had basically been talking the whole time. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s over how you treat her. I know you think you’re like bestie of the year, but you literally evaded her feelings for at least 6 months just so you would have an easy fuck.” 

Jaehyun scoffed, “Remind me to stop telling you about my problems.” Johnny simply rolled his eyes before training them back on the score in front of him. 

“I mean he has a point. You knew she caught feelings a while ago, and your agreement was to break it off, but you kept everything up. Plus you were the one who kept fucking with her and being all domestic, she’s probably traumatized.” Jaehyun shot a glare at Mark; he did not come here to be ganged up on.

“She can’t be but so traumatized since she spends all her time with Haechan, or Donghyuck, whatever the fuck his name is.” Mark and Johnny looked ready to hit their heads against the table, but clearly this was a delicate situation that needed to be nurtured and cared for so that Jaehyun would actually get some sense.

“Jae, buddy, pal, old friend if you will.”

“Get to the point Johnathan.” 

Johnny sighed, “See the point is, she’s in a relationship now. You had your 15 minutes of fame where she basically avoided getting into something because she was holding out hope for you. Now, she’s tired of waiting. She wants something that makes her feel loved and worth it and frankly, your bare minimum effort of taking her back to your place to watch a movie and then fuck, isn’t cutting it.”

“Bars.” Mark fist bumped Johnny, adding an explosion sound effect at the end.

“You guys are losers. She didn’t seem to be complaining about the movie and fuck a couple months ago.” Mark cringed and Johnny simply shook his head at the way their friend could so shamelessly talk about you like that.

“Jaehyun, listen to yourself, you sound delusional. She may not have been complaining, but that’s also because if she did you would’ve had to break all of that off. You’re acting like she broke up with you when the two of you weren’t even together in the first place.” Johnny’s volume was starting to increase, but he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t the closest to you, but he refused to let Jaehyun disrespect you like this. “Also you literally only text or call her now when we can’t hang out. Do you think that makes her feel good?” Jaehyun opened his mouth, but Johnny cut him off. “Don’t answer that because I know you’re about to say some bullshit. You need to get with the program and stop treating her like some play thing that you decide to pick up everytime your other toys are broken!” Johnny finished closing his laptop and packing up his belongings. 

“Dude, where are you going?” Jaehyun groaned before looking at Mark who was following in Johnny’s actions. “You too? Come on!”

Mark just shook his head, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before speaking again. “Dude, you have some serious soul searching to do. We don’t mind if you vent, but the way you talk about and treat her is sick.” Jaehyun just clicked his teeth in response to the younger man. 

“Whatever.” Jaehyun stood up from the table and stormed out of the library.

“He needs to get laid.” 

“Totally.” Mark agreed.

Taglist: @snapcracklen, @peachesmilk

[fizzigigsimmer]

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race

There's no following @bigdumbbambieyes but take this humble offering.

The Best You (Never) Had

written for @harringrove-relay-race

Rating: M

Pairing: Steve x Billy with a heavy dose of angst.

I was charmed and instantly driven insane by the absolutely bomb Harringrove playboy bunnies drawn by @adelacreations, and it inspired me to wonder about a trans femme Billy, running into her past at a strip club.

Enjoy the adventures of Bunny Hargrove.

And stay on the look out for what @robthegoodfellow has coming up!

When Billie left Hawkins she hadn’t looked to her future and seen herself working at a strip club. She certainly hadn’t foreseen the possibility of having to serve her high-school bully cheap food and lousy drinks in one once she’d made it back to Cali. But that’s exactly what seems to be in store for her – fuck her life.  

Five men occupy the half moon booth and table reserved mostly for bachelor parties and the occasional VIP. Billie’s coworker Amanda has been serving them food and drinks while they enjoy the sets of dancers on stage, but her wait shift is ending and Billie’s prepping to take over – tuning out the other woman as she complains about one of the men grabbing at her ass and being a poor tipper. 

It seems impossible, but somehow it’s happening. Steve Harrington is sitting right there, watching Lacey wiggle her ass in red spandex to a Katy Perry song.   

It’s been going on fifteen years, but Billie would recognize him anywhere. Same slouch to the shoulders and dreamy eyed stare – neither Lacey’s wild gyrations nor the conversation of the group he’s with enough to hold his full attention. Same stupid hair, although he’s changed the shape since high school. Now it’s held securely to one side by too much gel, and she just wants to break it up with her fingers. His laugh still doesn’t reach his eyes, and it probably says a lot about Billie, that some part of her is relieved to see that.  

Her rent might be too high, her boss might be a creep, and her ex is still full of shit, but Steve Harrington is still hanging around with guys like Tommy and faking a smile, so it balances the scales. 

He’s still gorgeous too, fuck him. Billie swallows and forces herself to look away, and not run away like the frantic beating of her heart suggests that she should. She’s got nothing to hide, and she’s not ashamed.  

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t saunter right over to the table with the bachelor party Amanda was gracious enough to split with her (knowing all about her rent worries) and flirt her way to another month of financial security; except for the fact that even in this day and age, certain people still get funny about people like her and Billie knows these guys. 

Or rather, they knew her before – before she got out of Neil’s house, before freedom, before Billie. 

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t go over there and take that table full of drunk losers, eager to blow their cash on the club's cheap booze and dancing girls, for all that they’re worth. Nothing besides fear. 

Fuck that. 

The group is laughing loudly about something as Billie saunters up, one last swarm of butterflies taking flight in her belly as Hagen turns his neck to squint blearily at her.  

God, that stupid smirk hasn’t changed a bit – wide and dopey like the dog he is, and mean in the eyes.  Those beetle browns look her over just like they did on her first day in Hawkins, assessing for strengths and weaknesses to exploit; and for a moment she remembers the terror of being under that gaze and all the others like it. The fear of being caught out consuming her, choking her, day after day. 

Sorry kid. Billie thinks to herself with a sway of her hips, right before parking herself up against the arm of the leather couch, warm skin brushing the sleeve on Tommy’s shoulder. The way that his lips part unconsciously as he gawks at her doesn’t make up for the past, but it still feels damn good. She’s a bad bitch and she knows it. Knew it back then but now she can show it and will kick ass if Tommy or any of his buddies decide they have a problem with it. 

But it’s not recognition of any kind on any of their faces, it’s lust. They leer at the shiny shorts that hug her thighs and the plunging neckline of her tiny top – her employer's idea of a uniform. Whatever vindication she feels on behalf of her pitiful high school self, she doesn’t actually care anymore what Tommy and the clones think. 

Billie finds her eyes going to Steve like they’re magnetized.  

She shouldn’t care what Harrington thinks either, and yet, there’s a stupid flutter in her chest (damn it) when Steve looks her over, eyes lingering just a hair too long on her chest to be anything other than interested, before he meets her eye. 

“Hey beautiful.” He leans forward a little, totally present now like he wasn’t before dripping charm he obviously learned in some board room working for daddy. And yet, there’s still some part of Billie that expects to wake up in bed back in the house on Cherry Street.  

“What’s your name?” Steve Harrington is definitely asking, her, like it’s just a pre-courser to getting her naked, and Billie shivers. Fuck is she doing this? 

“Hi Bambi, I’m Bunny.” She teases. Sees the line in the sand and walks right over it. Tommy howls like some chick likening his buddy to a baby deer is the most hilarious shit, and it sets the others off, oohing and ahhing and generally acting like fools as they rib Harrington. 

But Steve ignores them, and the way he jolts a little when he hears that name, eyes narrowing on her in wary confusion, goes straight to her clit. Shit. One of these days her hard on for danger is gonna get her killed. But today it’s got her heart thumping and her pussy dripping as she clenches around nothing, like he’s already sliding inside where she obviously still wants him. She needs better taste in men. She’s sure her mama would have said she gets her poor taste from her if she’d stuck around long enough while Billie was growing up. 

“I’m a sucker for big pretty brown eyes.” She winks at him, sugar sweet and he seems to settle a little. “Can I get you another round of drinks, or are you in the mood for something better?” 

“Bunny.” He ignores the question to turn her show name over on his tongue, slow and curious like he’s tasting it. “Are you on tonight?” He asks, gaze twitching toward the stage and back. 

“You calling me a stripper Bambi?” 

“It is a strip club, and with a name like Bunny.” 

Billie laughs and Steve’s mouth slides into a satisfied smirk, like that was always the end goal. Tommy rolls his eyes and pouts like an overgrown toddler, “Didn’t you date a chick named Trixie?” 

“Yeah. So?” Steve drawls in reply, his focus momentarily shifting from Billie and back to Tommy, which if Billie’s memory serves, is exactly how Tommy likes it. 

This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea. God, Hagen really hasn’t changed, but neither has Steve. Those dry little dig and the arch of his eyebrows are so familiar she feels a strange sort of relief. Like there was something inside her that had been counting down since the last time she saw him, afraid that he’d change and become lost to memory. 

Fuck. That sounds – it’s not, what it sounds. 

“So, you can’t tell a stripper by their name is all I’m saying.” 

“Dude, are you serious? I met Trixie because you paid for her to show up at my apartment dressed like a police officer and give me a lap dance on my birthday.” 

Now there’s an idea, Billie thinks as Tommy, remembering the incident, smiles sheepishly.  

“I’m not dancing tonight, no.” Billie finally answers his question, pulling Steve’s attention back and a shiver goes down her spine when his eyes snap to her. “But I wouldn’t say no to tying you up and having my way with you, Pretty Boy.” 

She doesn’t have to wonder if Steve remembers her the way she remembers him. If the words Billie had said and the insults, she’d flung had burrowed under his skin to live with him the same way Billie lives with his.  

Steve flinches, his eyes narrowing sharply on her, and it’s barely perceptible but she catches it before he’s being nudged at and jostled from both sides by his buddies as they hoot and holler about how he’s been chosen.  

He never stops looking at her. 

The only one who doesn’t seem absolutely thrilled for him to get picked up by some babe in a seedy strip club in Santa Monica is Tommy, who grumbles something about the attention being wasted on Steve. 

For the first time Billie wonders if he might be the bachelor about to get hitched – and she’s the one to flinch this time, as her eyes dart down to his hand. The ring finger is empty, which doesn’t really prove anything, but the pale strip of skin she finds there tells its own story.  

Divorced? Long engagement? Married already perhaps and out to prove the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Fuck she hopes it’s not the last one. Not because it would change anything for her. Maybe it would, if she were a nicer person, but she’s not the married one, and if she started splitting hairs about fooling around with married men her tip jar would be a whole lot emptier each month. 

No. She just plain doesn’t want him to be attached. The thought makes her chest twist up inside and the bottom of her stomach feel like it’s going to fall right out her ass – the same fucked up emotional constipation she’d felt watching him run through the female population of Hawkins High like he was trying to make them all forget they’d watched Nancy Wheeler take his balls and then make an absolute fool of him.  

“Thanks for the offer, Bunny -” Steve starts, and she can hear the butt coming as clear as the others can if the sudden swell of groans is anything to go by. 

“Harrington! Come on man.” 

“Boo!” 

“See what I mean? That’s a fucking ten right there, and you’re going to blow it over some bitch who doesn’t even want you?!” Screeches Tommy. 

Bingo. Thank you, Tommy, with the big mouth. So, it’s divorced. Separated but still holding on to the past – just like old times. 

It makes her smile a little mean as she leans toward him, holding his gaze, purrs - “You scared, Bambi? Worried I might break you?” 

Steve clamps his mouth shut. His eyes blaze at her and her throat goes dry. 

“Oh ho! Careful now darlin, our Stevie boys got a pretty big ego. You might not want to poke that bull if you’re not ready for the ride.” One of the bros says with the kind of glint in his eye that says he lives for ‘big egos’ putting little women like her into place. Fucking prick. 

Steve seems to think so too because he mutters, “Shuttup Andy” as he reaches in his pocket for his wallet. 

“How much?” he asks her, sounding bored. It’s bullshit. Billie licks her lip in triumph. 

“Fifty for a lap dance here at the table, fifty more if you want to see some tit.”  

“How much for a private show?” 

Her breath hitches, her stomach tightening in her eagerness, but somehow, she keeps the breath out of her tone as she replies. 

“Depends on what you want to see.” She answers, and without so much as a pause Harrington smiles – challenges. 

“Everything.” 

Fuck. She’s doing this. 

She’s not delusional enough to think that fucking him is going to heal her inner child or whatever, and while she firmly believes she doesn’t owe every one night stand a complete rundown of her medical history, she’s fully aware of how this is different – of what the upstanding thing to do would be. 

But then Billie remembers the way Steve had started pushing back after their fight that strange night at the Byers house; the way he’d swooped in and pulled the rug out from under her – reclaiming his spot as top dog, just by existing. No begging. No apologies. He just opened the doors to that mansion he lived in and rang the bell, and Tommy and the rest had come looking for supper.  

She remembers the cruel things he said to her as he flaunted his big house and fancy car, rubbing in how quickly it was over once he made it a real contest; because however shiny and new Billie had been to those kids, she was still just trash under it all. Angry white trash going nowhere fast, while Steve was Mr. Somebody. Once he’d pulled his head out of Wheeler’s ass and remembered it, he’d made turning the school against Billie his new focus.  

Pushed further and further to the fringes, Billie’s only choice to keep the jackals at bay had been to fight them off until people got the message and started avoiding her altogether.  

She’s not claiming victim. She knows damn well who started the fight – that it was her own demons that drove her to lash out and try and prove her dominance over him – and that after that night at the Byers, Steve had especially no reason to take mercy on her. 

But just because she’d asked for the fight doesn’t mean taking a beating hadn’t nearly pushed her to the edge. 

Billie swallows back the taste of bitterness in her mouth, from the memory of being alone, broken and desperate, aching to be near someone who loathed her and yearning for the looks he gave so easily to other girls. 

Except now he is – King Steve – looking at Billie Hargrove like he wants her. Like he’d empty out his wallet and spend all of that nepo baby salary just for the chance to get at her; and like hell is she going to turn it away. Revenge couldn’t get sweeter than this. The only thing that could make it better is if he knew. It’s me on your mind. Me you can’t ignore. Me you can’t walk away from. 

But it’s just a fantasy. The reality him recognizing her now or later has her swinging from vicious jubilation toward mind numbing panic on a dime. 

Regardless - Steve Harrington stands up, ignoring the cheers of his drunk friends, eyes locked with hers – and Billie Hargrove makes her own choices. 

Billie is going to ride Steve until he sees God, hollowed be her name. Because she wants him (still) and he finally wants her. Just for once. That’s all she needs.  

She can worry about the aftermath after. 

[starryletters]

gojo; friends to lovers headcanons!

notes : set in 2006, reader being silly and a bit dense, gojo falls first and you fall just as hard , fluff! suguru and shoko mentioned bc i love their friendgroup🫶

a/n : eep my first (published) piece of writing! im so excited, and i hope people like it!!! this isn't the most polished, but i wanted to start off with something a little more simple ( ◡‿◡ *) anywhoo satoru is the boyfriend ever!

you met him when you joined the jujutsu high second years aka geto shoko and gojo!

and gojo IMMEDIATELY decided to annoy the shit out of you

but like in an endearing way (that's what he thought, at least)

surprisingly, you actually found him funny, and bantering with him back and forth quickly became your favorite part of every day.

he really liked how you were able to keep up with him and how easy it was to talk to you about anything and everything. no matter what he had to say, you had a reply (or an insult) ready to go.

satoru's a really physically affectionate person in general and he was over the moon when you didnt seem to mind how he randomly slung his arm around your shoulder or how he liked to fall asleep with his head in your lap. (i could tie to this whole thing to his infinity and talk about how sad it is for someone that shows love through physival affection to experience smth so traumatic that they put a LITERAL barrier between them and others preventing all forms of touch but..i wont!)

it wasn't anything romantic at first! (i love platonic physical affection, okay?)

but there were small moments where you felt his touch and felt such a warmth in your heart. you had pure adoration for him [and if you ever caught his stare, you would know he adored you the same.]

anywhoo! you always thought he was attractive because i mean, look at him

but you never really saw him as a romantic prospect. at least not until you talked to him and got to know him. which you told shoko later on, and she called you a freak of nature for it because "usually he has the opposite effect on people"

there wasn't really a distinct moment you can remember where you developed feelings for him. the realization totally caught you by surprise!

you were hanging out with your fellow second years after school, and gojo made some dumb dad joke, at which only he laughed (of course), but you glanced at him from the side and his laugh!!! it was so beautiful!!! like, why are you enchanted by this LOSER right now???

either way, that's when you noticed that maybe that feeling you got in your stomach whenever gojo touched you may not have been entirely platonic. horrified and also a teensy bit excited at your discovery you look away and try to make your blushing face cool down. cool, this was definitely gonna ruin one of the best relationships and friendships you've ever had! gojo knew geto and shoko before you, so if you ever confessed, it would probably ruin your friendship with them too! cool, cool, very cool.

of course, that was total bs, but whatever you were anxious at, your newfound feelings and relationships are confusing, and you maybe (definitely) had a bit of tunnel vision in that moment.

after that (like the smart person you are), you convinced yourself that "well. if i just avoid gojo..the feelings will probably go away, right?"

oh, you poor naive FOOL

first of all, avoiding gojo was no easy feat (just ask nanami)

second of all... by the point you realized your feelings, he was already completely WHIPPED for you

"suguru! did you see? she totally looked at me for two seconds longer than usual today!"

"uh-huh"

"she definitely loves me back, dont you think so too?"

"you're delusional."

"you're my best friend! you're supposed to indulge me in my delusions!"

definitely the type to lay on his stomach and kick his feet in the air while thinking about you

and he NEVER shuts up about you

shoko and geto seriously deserve financial compensation for this and are BAFFLED by the fact that you dont notice how lovestruck he is by you?

so as soon as he realized you stopped replying to his texts like you usually did and you didn't sit next to him anymore so he could lean his head on your shoulder, he was devastated

DEVASTATED

like what did he do????? why does the universe hate him??? ( like he isnt the strongest sorcerer ever?)

you thought you were clever for coming up with your "get rid of feelings for satoru" plan

but no. for days now everywhere you were, suddenly there he was.

you didn't give him the silent treatment or anything you just... kept your distance.

well, you tried anyway

man has no sense of personal space.

"i missed you." he pouts, leaning down and placing his head on your shoulder from behind. "we see each other everyday, thats not enough for you?" you replied, trying to remain calm while he was so SO close to you. "we barely saw each other at all yesterday!" he whines. "i was busy -" "no, you weren't." "yes, i was?" "nuh-uh, " your face contorts into a grimace. "seriously, how old are you?" "sev-" "it was a rhetorical question." he moves from his postion behind you and stands right in front of you. if he wasn't so silly looking, you would probably be intimidated by his towering height.

his face turns serious. "you've been avoiding me." he states, a small pout on his lips. shit, dont look at his lips! "eh..uh..what? no, i'm not! that's crazy talk..." you sputter nervously. he sighs, and puts his hands on your shoulders "are you okay?" he's genuinely concerned for you now. damnit why couldn't he be less likeable?! this was really throwing a wrench in your plan.

"i am..i'm just..uh..argh." you lower your head and massage your temple out of frustration. your heartbeat was going a mile a minute. "i didn't mean to avoid you, satoru." you say in a soft tone. a lie, but you couldn't handle telling him the truth. his face brightens instantly. "i'll forgive you if you pinky promise to never avoid me ever again." he reaches out his pinky. "wow, future me is gonna regret that when you get inevitably annoying.." you chuckle reaching out your hand to interlink your finger with his. this was good, this was normal. you felt normal, platonic, and normal feelings. yep. a bright grin spreads across his pretty face. "although.. you might still have to buy me something sweet to really convince me!" of course. "you're the worst." "you love it!" yeah, you do.

okay, plan b. push it all down and focus on your friendship!

you did really enjoy just being his friend after all..otherwise you wouldn't care so much about ruining your friendship!

so things went back to normal sort of...except for the fact that over the next few months, the romantic tension got worse and worse.

you thought it was just you being delusional when he started holding your hand more and more frequently, freuqently bought you small trimkets and gifts( his reason being " i thought of you!") told you how pretty and cool you looked after missions, even with your hair all messed up and uniform askew. you tried so hard not to read into it even though these things were obviously pretty romantic.

satoru thought he was going insane

"i mean??? am i not being clear enough, suguru? am i being too subtle?"

"i dont think the word subtle really suits you, in any situation ever."

at this point, he was close to giving up. maybe you just didn't like him as much as he liked you?

but then! one late summer night!

the first kiss!

which was sort of out of the blue but also not really, since you'd been pining for each other for a while.

he was invading spending time in your dorm room late at night again like he frequently did. he got real chatty at night. you were both sitting on your bed, and his head was leaning against your shoulder, the soft ends of his hair tickling your neck.

it was around mignight, his voice was low and he spoke in a hushed tone.

"..you know? and then he had the audacity to insult nintendo? like sorry you hate fun, loser? anyways my original point was..." he trails off his voice, getting lower and lower by the end. you turn your head in his direction, expecting to find him asleep. instead, your nose almost bumps against his.

his eyes are..so breathtaking this close, with the moonlight reflecting in his sapphire irises. his snow-white lashes flutter as he glances down at your lips. a silent request.

this moment was so full of tender love while still so quiet. you had never felt anything quite like it before. you nod ever so slightly and softly your lips meet eachother. slotting together like two puzzle pieces, it made something click in your brain. suddenly everything made sense.

after a few moments you pulled back. your face felt hot. it was still quiet. gojos thumb rubs over the back of your hand.

he leans his head back onto your shoulder, positively beaming, he giggled "like i was saying.." he starts again the smile still evident in his voice.

an equally bright grin breaks out on your face. he was not even acknowledging the kiss you two shared. but it felt right that he didn't. this moment felt so warm and so much like satoru. there was no more confusion and no words that needed to be said. you both understood what it meant. you both finally understood what you were.

what you failed to consider was telling your best friends. geto and shoko. the four of you were hanging out and gojo had to leave early for another mission, before he leaves he quickly pecks you on the lips (which to be fair surprised you too) before waving and running off. shoko's eyes were practically bulging out of her head, and getos face couldn't decide between a surprised expression and one of disgust. "what. was that." shoko furtows her brows. "uhh..oh! oh." you couldn't exactly pinpoint what you were supposed to say now. how did you forget to tell them? how did GOJO forget to tell them? granted, it only happened last night, but still... you had assumed he spent the rest of the night lying on his stomach, feet kicking, telling geto every detail. "we're dating?" you reply awkwardly. "damn it!" shoko exclaims, and suguru smiles smugly. odd reactions... that's what you thought until you saw shoko pull out her wallet and hand suguru a big wad of cash. "see? i told you they would figure it out before they turned 25." he chides.

thank you for reading!!! and i hope you liked it! im not sure about this formatting (w/ the tumblr bulleted list. it's like not spaced apart enough, yk?) anyway! im open to constructive criticism, but please be nice im sensitive LOL (ﾉω･､)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

prompt list 2023 1 w stiles!!!

‘’I don’t care we broke up, I still love you.’’

I miss Stiles so much 😢 I’m so sad he won’t be in the Teen Wolf movie. I probably won’t be watching it - unfortunately - because I don’t have Paramount+ and won’t be paying for a streaming platform I can only watch on a small screen with shitty earphones

my taglists are here  + you can requests here at any time

—

It’s been two years since your and Stiles’ breakup, but he still looked at you the same way every morning since you were eight years old. You were too busy faking laughs at Mr. Popular’s bad jokes to notice though. He was nowhere near as funny as Stiles, but you were scared he would dump you if you didn’t laugh. A woman had two things to stroke to keep a man in her life, their dick and their even bigger ego. That included laughing at their terrible jokes.

Very soon, you won’t have to fake a laugh at Mr. Popular’s bad jokes — or to stroke anything of his. Very soon, you’ll be graduating and leaving Beacon Hills for the opposing coast.

At the beginning of graduation week, the yearbooks got distributed to the seniors. Everyone spent the day writing sweet messages to their friends and fellow classmates, knowing that soon they will part ways and — for some — never see each other again.

After the last bell, you were about to get to your car and go home when you spotted a familiar face at the end of the hallway. Stiles Stilinski.

Although you didn’t remain friends after breaking up, Stiles was part of your high school life. He was your first date and you were his first kiss. You even went to homecoming together in sophomore year…with his dad as the driver. Not getting his signature in your yearbook, the physical closing chapter of high school, would feel like erasing him from your past and you didn’t want that. You wanted to remember him.

‘’Can you sign my yearbook?’’

Stiles closed his locker, looking at you with a dumbfounded look, very surprised to see you standing there holding your yearbook and a pen. ‘’Yes!’’ he replied a little aggressively. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, realizing how he had sounded. ‘’I mean…of course.’’

A soft laugh left your lips. ‘’I didn't want to leave without your signature. It wouldn't have felt right,’’ you said as Stiles opened your yearbook to find a blank space to write his message. His expression was a mix of nostalgia and a hint of sadness as he wrote a few words. You could tell he was reminiscing about the past, just like you were.

You couldn't help but steal glances at him. Time had changed both of you, but the familiar features were still there — the way he furrowed his brow when concentrating, the constellation of light freckles on his face and his perfectly-crafted nose he loved to push in your neck when cuddling. It was bittersweet, knowing that you were about to go your separate ways.

Stiles finished writing and handed the yearbook back to you. ‘’Here.’’ You eagerly opened it to see what he had written, but he stopped you. ‘’No. Read it later.’’

You looked at Stiles curiously, his request piquing your interest. ‘’Okay. Eh, thanks for signing my yearbook.’’ You smiled and Stiles walked away, probably to join Scott.

Freshly showered, you sat on your bed and opened your yearbook to flick through and read the messages from your fellow graduates. You smiled through your friends’ paragraph-long messages, then fell on Stiles’s.

You’ll probably forget about me, but I’ll never forget about you. You're etched in me. We have shared so many firsts together, so many laughs too. I wish you nothing but the best in the future, following those big dreams we used to talk about.

love, Stiles

Yes, love, because I don’t care we broke up, I still love you. I always will.

You read his message again, making sure you read correctly, and called him. 

—

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[oddlittlestories]

So I have finished season 1 of d20 fantasy high (freshman year).

First of all I am SO sad it was so short. Like the episodes were long, I’m cool there. I’m just sad it only felt like half a season at most. Just as things were warming up it was over.

Moping aside—I LOVED IT I LOVED IT I LOVED IT

I think I’ve said before that it feels like the way I run DnD campaigns but it *does*

Brennan Lee Mulligan is 100% on the side of the players and characters. Like he’s rooting for them 100%

And as things develop it is also clear that this story is built around the characters and not the other way around

Like I totally get why people love actual plays that are Dramatic and Big and Intricate and Epic Fantasy

But I spent most of my time as a player dreaming of a game that was structured around the PCs instead of us just having to play within the DMs world. It’s what I bring as a DM and it’s so the vibe FH gives me.

And it’s improvised! Like I can tell! Brennan Lee Mulligan obviously spends an enormous amount of time planning, it’s true. But when it comes to the moment, if something else is better—he does that!

Generic characters get turned into genuine NPCs. Like. There’s no way that the halfling family were meant to be anything more than a bit part. There’s just not. They remind me at the start of that little Dutch family in the commercial about learning English—the cute, polite ones dancing to the deeply explicit song. And then the players get invested. Ask if they’re gonna make it, if they’re okay, etc etc

And Brennan’s first response has such “that’s not our story” vibes.

And then he rethinks and he brings them back to check on the kids. And at some point he either thought “ooh this is gonna be funny” or “what kind of person would actually go pick up a group of kids fighting a gang to the death in the street?” And he just amps it up to eleven. It’s great.

And that whole halfling encounter leads to the ice cream shop with the super vivid ice cream elemental character. Did Brennan have that character in his back pocket? Possibly. He could’ve developed a bunch of shops in town. But I’ll tell you that I’ve improvised characters that my players found just as memorable. And now they’re going for ice cream again so it’s gonna be A Thing

And then T-Bone, the bouncer! There is no way this character was meant to be anything other than a bit obstacle, and now he works at their school. Because it was important to the PCs. I’ve seen any number of DMs, actual play and otherwise, who shut that stuff down. “Oh no the school isn’t really appropriate.” “You don’t think this will get anywhere with Goldenhorde.” Or finding another job posting to shuttle the character off. But the players want it so the players get it.

And Brennan is constantly throwing out these little details that just beg for character empathy. T-Bone’s sick dog. How the necromancer kid loved his little rat, named himself after emancipation, and wanted so desperately for the cemetery caretaker to like him. Those throwaway lines about Johnny Spells’ gang- “how’s his home life? It’s–it’s bad!” and “yeah they all had names, and backstories [starts listing them off]”

I’ve never seen another actual play where the players and DMs have DnD bits. Where it’s like. Funny but also we’re taking it seriously.

Idk. I’m probably not describing it the best but it’s just exactly how I love to play & run games and it feels so Genuine to my experiences where most actual plays just don’t connect

Also I love love love the characters and story

[aprilclementine]

part 3 of history teacher steve and art teacher eddie

part 1 / part 2

There was already enough to worry about your freshman year of high school. Dustin was just happy he had a good group of friend to be by his side through it all. Plus, his best friend Mike’s sister was going to be their English teacher, Lucas assured Dustin it would be a walk in the park. They were so wrong.

"Mike your sister is seriously scarier than I remember from before she went to college." Dustin huffed, throwing his backpack on the couch in the Wheeler basement.

"Seriously, Mike! It's the first day and we already have homework due by the end of the week!" Lucas exclaimed, rummaging around his bag for the sheet that contained the details to the homework. Max and Jane coming down the stairs not too long after, clearing off the coffee table, to start on their work.

Mike rolled his eyes at their exasperations, looking to Will for some leveling. Will sighed, shrugging. "I got to say I'm with them on this one, I thought she would take it easier on us. I mean she babysat us for the the entirety of elementary school, and like half of middle school."

Mike groaned, and Dustin jumped in. "That's it! That's exactly it! This is payback for all the times we were shitheads!"

"Jesus H. Christ, I have to buy like a lifetime supply of apples to make up for all the shit we did!" Lucas rubbed his hands over his face.

"You dickheads need to stop being so dramatic its literally just a 'What I Did This Summer' essay." Max finally chimed in, Jane nodding along beside her.

"Homework is still homework, Mayfield." Dustin snarked back.

"And, she's the only teacher that gave us homework." Lucas added, matter o' factly. "Not even Will and Janes brother gave us homework!"

"Well, it's probably because he didn't have to deal with us as much." Will supplied, trying to defend the other Wheeler.

"Pota-toe, Po-tato." Dustin huffed, opening his notebook to a blank page to start the essay. "Speaking of teachers, did Argyle let you guys hold his class pet? The bearded dragon, what was it's name Lucas? Wasn't it like a vegetable, or something?"

"It was pineapple!" Lucas supplied, moving to sit next to Max, using his phone to try and take a picture of what she already had written on her paper.

"The art teacher that got up on the desk was actually kind of entertaining." Will added.

"His hair was too long." Mike added, grabbing a Rubik's cube off the counter before he sat down.

"I liked his hair." Will smiled, "I think he's gonna be a good teacher, I'm glad I convinced you guys to join."

"I can grow my hair longer, and better than he can." Mike grumbled from the floor beside Will.

"I liked Mr.H's hair better." Jane added quietly.

"Oooohhh, yeah, I totally agree, Jane!" Max nudged her, as the two whispered something else to each other.

Lucas rolled his eyes, "Alright, his hair was decent, at best."

"Someone's peanut butter and jealous." Dustin mumbled under his breath, narrowly dodging the figurine Lucas chucked at him.

"I have a feeling he'll be giving us a lot of homework too." Mike added.

"Eh, I know he seems the type, but maybe he'll go easier on us, 'cause we're freshmen." Lucas shrugged, Will hummed in agreement.

The group worked diligently until dinner time, parting ways, with a majority of their essays close to being done.

-

The next week, Dustin waved down Lucas and Max as he locked his bike into the rack, waiting patiently by the front doors.

"Is that a- Weird Al shirt?" Max asked as they approached. Lucas stifled his laugh behind his hand.

"Yes, his biopic is coming out soon! The one starring Daniel Radcliffe! Also, don’t be jealous, because I actually have taste, Mayfield." Dustin huffed, as he turned to walk into the school.

"If that what you'd like to call it, sure." Max grinned, as they followed Dustin to their first period.

"Weird taste, I'd say. Get it, Max? Because, it's Weird A-" Lucas nudged at Max's side.

"Yes, Lucas, very funny." Max snarked, as she set her bag down by her desk.

The party shared first period together, which was English. Then, half of them went to Math with Mr.Byers, and the other half went to Argyle, for science. Then vice versa. They then shared art together, then lunch, after that half of them went to PE, and the other half went to band. For their final class of the day they shared history.

Dustin watched Mike almost doze off in first period, and quickly kicked his seat, so his sister wouldn't give him a weeks worth of detention, in only their second week of school. 

The group walked out of first period, grumbling about another assignment, parting ways down the hall. Max, Lucas, and Dustin had Argyle, and Mike, Will and Jane had Mr.Byers.

The groups passed each other in the halls, Lucas quickly repeating to Will what the lesson was about, and Mike doing the same for Dustin.

They regrouped in Mr.Munson’s class for Art. Aprons were placed on each seat, and Mr.Munson was setting out fabric paint, and markers in the middle of each table as everyone walked in. Everyone filed to their seats as soon as the bell rang, Mr.Munson stood before the class, explaining that this period they'd be decorating their aprons for the year. "Put whatever you want, be fun, be creative, but "make it school appropriate"." Mr.Munson rolled his eyes, as he used air quotes, and a mocking tone for the last sentence. He took a deep breath, before bringing his hand up to his mouth, leaning in closer to the class for a stage whisper. "Or, don't, I'll pretend I didn't see it." Mr.Munson clapped to dismiss the class, and then moved behind his desk to work on some sketches.

Dustin walked up to Mr.Munson’s desk about halfway through class. He cleared his throat to get the mans attention. Mr.Munson looked up, eyes scanning over Dustin’s face, then landing on his shirt. "Is that a Weird Al shirt?"

Dustin nodded wordlessly, ready to defend himself.

"That's bold, I respect it." Eddie nodded as he spoke, looking back at Dustin now, who was beaming at the comment. "How can I help ya, kid?"

"I was wondering if you had anymore puffy paint." Dustin asked, handing Mr.Munson the empty bottle. Mr.Munson nodded, as he grabbed his keys, and moved into the storage room. Dustin heard him rummaging around, before he came back out with a new bottle of yellow puffy paint, handing it off to Dustin, sending him back to his desk to work.

Dustin took a step back, watching curiously from the slight opening, as Mr.Munson knocked on the connecting door to Mr.Harrington’s room, before Mr.Harrington appeared. Dustin watched as the two conversed, jumping slightly when he felt someone kick his leg.

"Dude! What are you doing still standing? Will needs the puffy paint." Mike whisper-shouted from his chair.

Dustin grumbled, sparing one last glance at the storage room, just as Mr.Harrington was shutting his side, and Mr.Munson was walking back into the room, bright smile on his face. "I was observing!" Dustin hissed back, sliding the puffy paint across the table to Will.

"What exactly could you be observing?" Lucas asked, reaching for the red fabric marker.

"Mr.Munson was in the storage room-" Dustin started, in a quiet tone, glancing to the desk where Mr.Munson sat.

"Yeah, duh, he doesn't just carry all his extra art supplies in his apron pockets." Max added, taking the red marker from Lucas, before he could cap it.

"If you would let me finish." Dustin groaned, "He went back in there after he got me the puffy paint, and knocked on Mr.Harrington’s door."

"Maybe he needed to borrow something?" Will suggested, with a shrug.

"That's the thing," Dustin looked around the table, holding his friends attention now. "He came out of the storage room, empty-handed!" He whisper-shouted.

"What are you getting at?" Mike questioned.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm just observing." Dustin replied, hands up in mock-innocence.

"Mr.Harrington is probably just still showing him around, he's practically the school's welcoming committee." Max added, handing off the purple puffy paint to Jane.

"Maybe, I say we just stay observant, maybe we can hang around after the bell, stall a little bit, see if Mr.H comes by, for Mr.Munson." Dustin finished, casting one more glance to Mr.Munson.

When the bell rang, the group was slow to clean their area, purposefully mixing up caps, and calling out the other to fix it, slow to wipe down their table, the markers kept somehow rolling off the table, until it was just the six of them, and Mr.Munson in the classroom.

Mr.Munson finally moved towards the table, "Hey guys, lets try and get a move on it, so everyone can get to lunch on time, here I'll help."

The party was quick to try and refuse his help, all six talking at once, spewing out different excuses.

"Alright, alright, I'll just wait by the door." Mr.Munson exclaimed, "But, please try and pick up the pace, I-"

"Munson, I told you to meet me-" Mr.Harrington stopped, looking between them, and Mr.Munson.

"Hang on, Mr.H. I got a couple student still cleaning up." Mr.Munson turned away from them, and made his way to Mr.Harrington. "You can just put the tools on this back counter over here, we'll put them up when the room clears."

Dustin turned to look at his friends, gesturing towards the two teachers. "I told you!" He mouthed.

They finished quickly, and ran out the door, nearly being knocked over by Mr.Harrington who was carrying a 2x4. "Woah, let's try to be careful, and watch where were going. Almost got you guys with this." Mr.Harrington instructed softly.

"What's with the wood?" Lucas asked.

"Mr.Munson asked me to help him put up hooks for your classroom aprons." Mr.Harrington answered with a smile, as Mr.Munson came out to grab the 2x4 from him.

"You guys should get to lunch before all that's left is mystery meat." Mr.Munson butted in, giving the crew a pointed look.

The group nodded, rushing down the halls. "No, I told you!" Max slightly shoved Dustin, as they rounded the corner. "Mr.Harrington is just really, really nice."

"Max does have a point, I overheard Nance telling my mom how much of a help Mr.H was when she was setting up her classroom. He spent the entire afternoon helping her rearrange all the desks until she was satisfied." Mike added, grabbing a lunch tray. "Mom thinks he’s a real dream boat too." Mike added with an eyeroll.

"I think they would be cute together." Jane added, after they got their lunches, and found a table.

"Who?" Will questioned, as he handed off the cherries from his fruit cup to Mike.

"Mr.Munson, and Mr.Harrington." Jane replied matter o' factly.

"Jane, don't be ridi-" Lucas was cut off by a swift kick to his shin, by Max.

"No, I think she has a point. They make for a cute bromance." Max nodded reassuringly to Jane, before taking the pickles from Lucas' sandwich.

The group fell into an easy discussion afterwards about the latest campaign Will was working on.

--

Eddie was biting his lip raw, watching Steve hold the board in place, drilling it in place, spare screw held between his lips. Eddie tried to imagine what his flexed arms must've looked like under the stupid knit sweaters he wore . Eddie didn't even register Steve calling for him, until he turned to face him, waving a hand in front of his face. Eddie jumped slightly, apologizing.

Steve smiled, holding out his hand to Eddie that held the screws he didn't use. "Could you bring over the hooks now?"

Eddie took the spare screws from Steve's hand, and went back to his desk to grab the hooks they would use. Eddie waited patiently beside Steve, handing him each hook as he needed it.

Once all the hooks were up, Steve started helping Eddie place all the student aprons in their appropriate sections. Steve took a step back, hands on his hips as he admired the work. "We make a good team, Munson."

"I owe you like a weeks worth of lunch, Harrington. I'm useless with power tools." Eddie joked, moving to clean up the saw dust on the ground, Steve following with the dust pan. Eddie really wasn't bad with power tools, growing up and helping his Uncle Wayne with all the repairs the trailer ever needed, but how could he say no, when Steve looked so eager to help. He had ran to their shared supply closet, and pulled out his new drill to show Eddie, the second Eddie mentioned needing to put up racks in his room.

Steve now kneeled down in front of Eddie, holding the dustpan in place as Eddie swept the dust in a neat pile. Steve looked up at Eddie as he continued their conversation. "Does it have to be lunch? I can go for a couple dinners." Steve smiled up at him.

Eddie had to constantly remind himself they were in a school setting, whenever Steve was in compromising positions like this, and saying suggestive things like that to Eddie. Steve was just being a bro, a bro that happened to have the most beautiful hazel eyes Eddie had ever seen, hair that he constantly stopped himself from running his fingers through, and a face that has now made it’s way into Eddie’s sketch book. Eddie was looking too into it, he was sure that was the case. Still, Eddie couldn't stop the blush that crept up his neck. Eddie really needed to keep his cool.

"I don't mind doing dinner, Harrington. We should think about inviting the rest of the teachers in our hall too!" Eddie was quick to add, "Nancy, Johnathan, and Argyle all seem pretty close to us in age. It would be cool if we all went out together, y'know some staff bonding time! You could bring Buckley too!" Eddie finished, as he swept the pile into the dustpan gently.

Eddie tried not to think too much of the way Steve deflated at the suggestion. "Yeah, staff bonding sounds fun." Steve sighed as he stood, walking to drop the pile in the trash. "Any suggestions?" Steve asked, as he stood by Eddies desk.

"My friend Gareth mentioned this bar downtown, we could see if everyone wants to do that?" Eddie answered, moving to place the broom back in the storage room. "I'll ask Johnathan, and Argyle, if you ask Nancy, and Robin."

"Sounds like a deal, let's do it after the first month of school, as like a celebration, maybe we can turn it into a monthly thing." Steve suggested.

"I like that idea, I'll be sure to mention it to the guys when I talk to them." Eddie responded.

"Hey, I don't mean to cut this short, but I have to run and finish up some copies before next period." Steve explained, as he walked towards Eddies closed door. Eddie nodded in acknowledgment, and waved as Steve ran out.

Staff bonding, really, Eddie? Eddie groaned to himself, plopping down on his spinny chair.

***

the kids are introduced now! this part feels a little shorter than the rest, sorry :( i hope you guys are liking this as much as i like writing it, i can’t wait to upload more. thank you again for all the notes :)  i am having an awfully hard time coming up with a title hahaha

taglist: @little-gae-shit @ineffablecolors @menace-behaviour @hardboiledleggs @toobluebrunette @bye-zai @panicatthediaz @munsonsduchess @thing-a-ling @swimmingbirdrunningrock @jestyzesty @cutepumpkin4 @flustratedcas @teelagurl558 @electrick-marionnett @beckkthewreck @alienace @shinekocreator @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @bidisastersworld @gay-little-bitch @booksandsience @korixae @afewproblems @henderdads @mightbeasleep @winterbuckwild @yournowheregirl @steveisabicon @milf-harrington @overhillunderhill @ thatonepotatochild @uwujinniee @gregre369 @tiny-enthusiast @eboyawstenn @anaibis @vlada-elya @vampireinthesun @grtwdsmwhr @djo-time @theysherobinbuckley @straight4joekeery @nonbinary-eddie-munson 

[eddiemunsonw]

Hellfire Club

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your plan to pick up your cousin Dustin at his Hellfire Club meeting ends a little… differently.

OR

Eddie and you do the do

CW/Disclaimer: Smut. But kinda sweet and sorta funny smut.

Author's note: Enjoyyyyyyy. :)

Words: 3935

On your way into Hawkins High, you were met with the majority of students leaving it instead. Some guys gave you lingering looks as they checked out the “new girl” but to your relief no one approached you. It would be kind of awkward to tell them you had a few years on them and therefore no interest in the slightest. Dustin had told you how to get to the drama room where he was attending his “Hellfire Club” meeting and thanks to his clear instructions it wasn’t too hard to get there. Since you weren’t entirely sure how long they would take, you had brought along your sketchbook and assumed it would be no trouble to hang out there for the time being.

The room was dark as you entered, an atmosphere created by a faded orange, yellow hue that seemed to have been used to create a sunset type of feel. A couple of fake torches were lit and in the middle of the room stood a large, dark wooden table surrounded by wooden chairs that were currently occupied. At the head of the table was a throne and with one glance at the guy who had claimed that seat, you knew he was probably the Dungeon Master.

You didn’t know a ton about Dungeons & Dragons, but Dustin had taken it upon himself to tell you lots about it during the times you visited him and your aunt Claudia. Hence, it also wasn’t a secret to you that the guy with the unruly brown hair went by the name of Eddie Munson. His eyes were on you the moment you walked in, giving you a peculiar look that seemed to calculate what to do with you. One part seemed to want you gone, the other… wasn’t too sure. Without further ado you decided that the best way to not interrupt them was to simply sit down at the other side of the table opposite Eddie.

The frown on Eddie’s face deepened when you did and he cocked his head in confusion, eyes following your gaze towards Dustin. You had assumed that he would’ve told the guy that you would be “joining” the session. When Dustin was about to speak, Eddie was just a little quicker and you found him looking in your direction again.

“To what do we owe the honor of your presence, miss…?”

Dustin grabbed his second chance before you could answer.

“That’s Y/N, my cousin. She was uhm… picking me up.” A frown appeared on his face and it seemed as if there was more to that statement. However, Eddie wasted no time.

“Okay… can’t she wait somewhere else?” Eddie asked, his brow raised as he eyed Dustin with mild curiosity and a sliver of annoyance. Dustin was starting to get impatient as this time you spoke up before he could, again.

“Don’t worry, she can speak just fine.” You gave him a tight lipped smile as his face turned towards you, hair softly swaying with the motion. Eddie responded with a quick smile of his own that didn’t meet his eyes and he looked frankly quite uninterested in what you had to say.

“Actually…” Dustin started apologetically, glancing over at you, “I no longer need the ride.” At your subtle eyebrow raise he hastily continued. “I couldn’t reach you, I tried! I’m gonna go somewhere with Lucas later so… I don’t need the ride anymore.” he finished in one breath.

“Oh, alright. No problem.” You shrugged and grabbed your sketchbook, causing confusion to etch into the faces of all other party members as they looked at you expectantly.

“Y/N…?” Dustin tried hesitantly. A smile teased the corners of your lips as you heard the softest, impatient huff coming from the head of the table.

“Oh? Hope you don’t mind if I linger for a bit? Robin took my car because I assumed I’d be here for a while, which is why I’m earlier than we agreed upon actually. I don’t really feel like hanging around elsewhere in the school, and the weather isn’t exactly peachy today. Quite like the change of scenery here, actually.”

“Would be great if you could take your desire for nice scenery elsewhere, actually,” Eddie mumbled. “We’re having something serious going on here.”

Barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you sighed softly before addressing him.

“Relax, Munson. I won’t interrupt. Promise.”

From the looks of it Eddie wanted to retort, but when Dustin gave him a look he just rolled his eyes and for some reason, he relented. As if you weren’t there at all, he continued what he was saying before your arrival had interrupted him in the first place.

It was actually quite entertaining to listen to them playing the game. Mostly because of Eddie, really, with all the effort he put into various characters and the range of voices he had for them. You found yourself resting your pencil on the paper more often than not to glance up at him, only to find how often his eyes would look in your direction. You couldn’t help but smile and sometimes softly giggle along with the rest of the party whenever he did something funny. Whether it was intended or not. 

At some point however, you were thoroughly engrossed in your drawing when all of a sudden a ringed hand came into view, holding what you recalled as a d20.

“Blow on it, for good luck.”

You glanced upwards at Eddie who gave you an expression that you found hard to read at first. Suddenly, as his brows knit together the slightest fraction, you recognized it. A challenge. For whatever reason he needed proof that you weren’t ridiculing him behind your smiles and giggles. Not sure how you knew, but you just knew that that was what it was about, for some reason.

Your free hand cupped around his and you blew gently on the dice, looking upwards through your lashes to meet his eyes again.

“Like that?” you asked innocently, knowing exactly what you were doing. His eyes darkened a fraction when you licked your lips out of habit. You couldn’t help but smile when his eyes shifted away from you as he nodded, hand lingering in yours for just a touch longer.

“Yeah, just like that.”

And with that, the tone had changed. Your eyes met his over the table when he rolled eighteen, which was enough for what he had wanted to do apparently because he smiled. It wasn’t just a smile. Although hard to put into words, you knew you had played the cards he had given you just right.

Where the party hadn’t commented on his little good luck charm action, they did speak up when Eddie started describing a damsel in distress exactly like you. Your hair, eyes, even the color of your shirt was woven into the description. It wasn’t just those details that did it for them, though. It was how he continued to describe how effortlessly beautiful she was. A real head turner. All while stealing obvious glances at you as he went on to add details such as a necklace and rings. He had changed your watch into a bracelet.

As Eddie continued to add the mischievous sparkle in your or “their” eyes, Dustin interrupted him with a near whine that made it very clear he was feeling quite uncomfortable.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but can we stop adding my cousin into the game? It gives me the heebie-jeebies.” Dustin begged.

Eddie cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he read Dustin’s expression carefully. He made a show of taking a sip of his mountain dew that he had poured into a chalice first and smirked.

“There are many people who go by that description, Henderson. Can’t help but gather my inspiration from the direct environment sometimes though. Would you rather have the damsel look like you?”

Dustin pouted as the rest of the party laughed and he scribbled something onto his paper. You were sure he wrote down to remind himself to never ask you for a favor again.

“Well?” Eddie pressed, a big grin on his face.

“... no.”

“Glad we agree.”

At the end of the session, Dustin was surprised you hadn’t left yet. You simply shrugged and said Robin must be taking longer. The kids left to make some copies of a poster they needed next Monday for their science project and then they would be off, heading into the weekend. You, however, hadn’t moved a muscle. Not even when Eddie had packed up about all of his stuff. He seemed a little more nervous, a little agitated now that it was just you two. His confidence had taken a subtle dip and you didn’t mind. You thought he looked cute with those slightly pink cheeks. He glanced over at you and you held his gaze, crossing your arms and noticed he mirrored you.

“What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

Eddie nodded and rested his elbows on the table, cupping his hands to hold his face up. He looked a little worn out, which wouldn’t surprise you considering all the talking he had done. You sat forward as well, doing the same as you quirked a brow.

“I don’t know. I just— why’re you still here?” It genuinely seemed to confuse him. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were still there. 

“Have I overstayed my welcome? If I ever was? Welcome, that is.” you asked as you tilted your head a little. Eddie sighed and leaned back in his throne and you put your sketchbook away. As you leaned back in your chair, you noticed he was still staring at you.

“That’s not—” He pursed his lips together, trying to let his mind form words to deal with his mess of a brain which was currently working overtime. You watched as he straightened his back just as you did and picked up a dice in front of him. Eyes wandering all the way back to your end of the table, you noticed a dice nearby that probably belonged to either Eddie or another member of the party. As you picked it up, Eddie spoke.

“Are you copying me?”

You looked up and raised a brow at him, only to find he was already raising one at you. He clenched his fist around the dice just as you did. All not on purpose, really. It just happened.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied, though a little voice in your head said that maybe you should start copying him on purpose. Just to see. So when he raked a hand through his hair, you did too. He rolled his eyes, so did you. A subtle laugh escaped his lips in disbelief, and you shook your head simultaneously after.

“So you are.”

“So you are.”

“Ah, speech too?”

“Ah, speech too?”

Neither of you made a move to leave the drama room, although that had been Eddie’s intention. He had no desire to linger in this room with you, someone who did things to his brain and the rest of his body. As much as his rational side wanted to get out of here, though, the desire to stay was much stronger. He licked his lips, pleased to see you doing the same although it sent shivers down his spine immediately. He tapped his nose with his finger and so did you. Both of you smiled.

“Interesting,” you both mused. Eddie started to like the game. Grabbed onto the back of his throne so his shirt tightened against his chest and rode up a little. His satisfied smirk made you roll your eyes when you copied him. Apart from blinking, your eyes never left each other. His hands traveled over the table graciously before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it gently. The grimace on your face made him giggle.

“What are we doing?” Eddie asked softly as he grasped at his shoulder with his hand, gently trailing it down towards his chest. His cheeks were flushed, anticipation in his eyes as he followed your hand. He licked his lips subconsciously and felt the need to shift in his seat.

“I don’t know,” you responded honestly. You just knew that you didn’t want this to end. Your hand grazed your bra through the fabric as he dared to move lower, making you almost cup your breast. It wasn’t until he made a squeezing motion that you protested.

“Not exactly fair, is it?” you mumbled, though you did in fact squeeze your boob as many times as he squeezed the empty air in front of his chest.

“That I don’t have boobs to squeeze? Very unfair,” Eddie agreed. He grinned boyishly as your eyes traveled to the back of their sockets again. “Any more eye rolling and they’ll stick there permanently.”

“I’d stop if you’d stop squeezing air, maybe.” Squeezing your breast in front of a guy you had met on the same day in a setting like this wasn’t exactly on your bucket list. Had you known it would get you this hot, you might have jotted it down on paper.

“Alright,” Eddie said lightly, adding a second hand now to rub up and down his chest. When he made a show of rubbing his thumbs over his nipples, which you were surprised to see poking through his club t-shirt, the softest noise escaped his lips. You smirked as he looked a little panicked, clearly not intending to let it out. Just as he wanted to move away from his chest to save himself the embarrassment, you let out a gentle hum of your own.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, his eyes darkening. You briefly wondered how high the chances of anyone coming in unexpectedly were. Hopefully Eddie knew. He rubbed his chest more vigorously, his thumbs grazing his nipples, wishing for the movements to release more sounds out of you. He no longer cared as much for the noises he made himself, as his focus was on you. The soft hums, soft moans. It was at that moment that he dared to move his hand down to palm himself through his pants. Eyes blown out with lust watched your hand travel down as well.

“You touching yourself?” he asked softly, his other hand squeezing his peck through his shirt.

“Depends… are you? I’m copying you after all, like you said. All I can see is that you moved your hand down in your lap.”

A low chuckle rumbled up in his chest and he nodded.

“I am. Though… can’t exactly copy me there, now can you?”

“Not exactly, no. But we worked it out for our chests too, didn’t we?”

Eddie nodded, a groan escaping his lips as he let his thumb find the head of his cock but realizing once again that these aesthetically tight jeans were very inconvenient at times like these.

“Mhm. So. Are you?”

Your hand cupped your mound through your jeans, which didn’t really do much for you, but you nodded nonetheless. For a moment, all you did was stare at each other as you silently dealt with the lack of feeling through both of your jeans.

“Fuck it,” Eddie mumbled, reaching down with his other hand as well to unbuckle his belt and shove his hand down his pants. It took some willpower to not immediately dive into his boxers as well.

“Get inside your jeans,” he ordered, his voice low.

“How do we ask nicely?” you teased. Eddie moaned softly as he ran his thumb over the wet spot of his boxers where the head strained against it and smirked.

“Jus’ wanna make sure you feel good baby.”

“Hm. Fair enough,” you shrugged, as if you weren’t dying to shove your hand down your pants at this point. Once your fingers grazed across the front of your panties, a whimper escaped you. Shit. You were wetter than you expected and couldn’t help but blush at the realization.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Eddie commented softly before adding a moan of his own to the mix. “Kinda wanna… find out what sounds you’d make for me.”

“Hmm… what would you like to do to me?” you asked, your voice spreading like silk over the table before it reached his ears. Eddie bit down on his lip and sighed slowly.

“So many things, sweetheart. But… I’d taste you first. Go down on you and make you roll your eyes back for good reason.”

“Sounds confident.”

“‘Cause it’s a promise.”

Your eyes met again and you mirrored his expression without trying. His mouth stood agape, brows knit together as he felt himself, hand wrapped lightly around his length determined to drag it out as long as he could. You were playing with your clit, alternating it with sliding down your lips to spread your wetness all around. Moans came easier now, mingled with each other. Everything outside of you and the table separating you both seemed to disappear as you continued to stimulate yourselves.

Without removing his hand, Eddie got up out of his chair and rounded the table. You met him halfway. His free hand grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in for a bruising kiss, layered with lust and need. Your tongues danced together in a battle for dominance while he replaced the hand in your pants with his own. His fingers found your sensitive spots effortlessly, thumb working your clit as he pumped his fingers inside. He nudged down your jeans until they were halfway down your thighs and you did the same to him along with his boxers and wrapped your hand around his cock. He buckled inside your hand and a sweet whine escaped him as he desperately started to move.

You tried to drown your moans into your kisses but he moved away to nip at your neck instead.

“Wanna hear you baby,” he murmured against your neck, licking along the side while leaving soft nibbles in between. You threw your head back and moaned, louder than anticipated and when you whispered something along the lines of “oh shit”, he chuckled.

“You’re so cute. So cute and pretty. When you blew on those dice— fuck.”

“Yeah what was that about, huh?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips until they formed an “O” when Eddie started rubbing your clit faster.

“Just needed some luck.”

“Still feeling lucky?” you asked, leaning back to meet his eyes. You jerked him off faster and judging how much effort went into responding to you, you knew he was close.

“Y-Yeah, I think so, why?” he asked as he tried to still his hips.

“Fuck me.”

Eddie grinned darkly and smashed his lips onto yours.

“Fuck yes.”

In one swift move he pushed any lingering clutter off the table and lifted you up on it, pushing you down with his body so you would lay down. He removed your jeans and panties and spread your legs as he kneeled down before you.

“Need a taste.”

With the flat of his tongue he licked a long stripe upwards, moaning against your cunt as he lapped up the juices that his fingers had spread around. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently before circling around it with his tongue. Your hand tugged on his hair not so gently and the vibration of his moans sent your juices flowing. Before he could get lost in eating you out, you pulled him back up by his hair.

“C’mon Eddie, please.”

“Pretty girl needs me so bad, huh?” he cooed teasingly. You slapped his arm affectionately and he grinned.

“As if your cock isn’t quivering at the mere thought of getting some. You can make me roll my eyes back for good reason some other time.”

“That a promise?” Eddie asked, a little too honest and a little less confident with the way he cupped your cheek and gazed down at you with his pretty brown eyes.

“Mhm, if you’re good.”

Eddie smiled and fished out his wallet and swiftly wrapped a condom around himself. He leaned down, kissing you a little sweeter than he had before and you felt the head nudging your opening. As his tongue licked into your mouth, he bottomed out inside you and you gasped pleasantly. Where it had started with a burning fire surging inside you both, currently it felt like the urgency had gone. There was no rush, yet enough desire and as soon as Eddie picked up the pace, your moans filled the echoing room again.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Fuck you feel so good. Jesus H. you’re— oh shit.”

You grasped at his back, nails digging into his skin as your hands were buried under his t-shirt. Eddie’s hands were on your hips, pushing you back onto his cock with each thrust as his lips sloppily kissed yours to drown out the loudest moans.

“‘M close, you close?” he grunted, watching in satisfaction as you nodded, words no longer coming to you in favor of your sweet moans. He nodded in understanding, kissing your cheek quickly before pounding into you harder. You were both so lost in each other that you didn’t notice the door opening.

“Hey Y/N, your car is in the parking lot so— Jesus CHRIST! NO. NO! What?! I knew it, I knew it. Gross. You’re gross! I can’t believe— with my cousin, Eddie? With Eddie of all people, Y/N?! This is too much too—”

Eddie scrambled you up against him, trying to shield your exposed parts as well as he could when he looked over your shoulder at Dustin in horror. It all happened so quickly that by the time you looked over your shoulder, you could already see the door closing again as Dustin fled.

“Oh shit. I should— I have to— He’s gonna be so upset—” you stammered, wanting to move but staying still as you still very much had Eddie’s cock buried deep inside you. Eddie shook his head, nipping at your neck with needy kisses.

“He’ll still be consolable later, I won’t be though if we stop right now. Please.”

“Eddie.”

“Baby, sweetheart. Please,” he pleaded. “I really wanna,” he moved out halfway and thrusted back in slowly, “...make you feel so good.”

You bit down a smile and kissed him eagerly as he picked up his pace again, gently letting you back down so he could use both his hands to grab your hips. It didn’t take long before you both reached your highs, his hips stuttering as your walls clenched around him, desperate moans meeting desperate kisses. You rode out your orgasms until he pulled you back up in a hug, smoothing his hands over your back as the table wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to lay down upon, he remembered from a solo session.

“So… will you be joining again next week baby?” he murmured against your cheek, leaving a kiss with his words.

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed in here after traumatizing Dustin like that,” you smirked.

“Lucky for us I’m the Dungeon Master,” he quipped with a grin that matched yours. His hand lovingly cupped your cheek to steal a kiss from your lips. You hummed in thought.

“How about… you take me to dinner after the meeting and we find a place more uhm, comfortable and a little more private?”

Eddie smiled and gave you a nod.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Leave a heart or even better, reblog if you liked this! It helps me a lot getting more exposure and therefore more people to read it. :)

This fic can also be found on my ao3!

[starstruck-cupid]

The Sweater

Part 3 of untitled Charlie fic. Please help me name it.

( part one, part two )

(edit: name change. Formerly unnamed)

A/N: I'm very tired so this might not be my best work. I really appreciate all of the support! It means a lot that people are enjoying what I've written. I hope everyone is well and enjoys this story. I know it's going slow now, but it'll speed up soon.

TW: use of the word god (once?), mentions of stalking, mentions of absent parents, mentions of panic attack, mentions of passing out, possible insinuations of being drugged, reader being forced to drink water

//////////////////////////////////////<3///////////////////////////////////////////

"What the fuck?" I whispered in a dumbfounded manner.

After blankly staring at my phone for a minute, letting the video reply over and over, I look at Charlie. He's asleep. I'm not sure when he fell asleep, but he's out cold.

I shouldn't tell him. He's going through enough. It was probably some stupid joke. Putting my phone down, I turn my attention back to the movie. Past me was smart for picking something long. I run my hands through Charlie's hair in a failed attempt to calm myself. I couldn't shake the stiffness of my muscles.

Today was Sunday. Tomorrow I'd be back at school, and I could fully ignore this incident.

After a few hours of snoring and staring at a sleeping Charlie, the charming boy finally woke up. Slowly looking up at me, Charlie noticed my thoughtful face. 

"What's wrong?" concern bled out of his voice.

"Nothing," I said, knowing he would see right past my lie.

"You know you can tell me anyone, right, bunny?" He knew that I would tell him anything after hearing that name.

It always reminds me of the first time Charlie and I actually talked. I was too high to remember if I was wearing a full costume or not, but on the top of my head sat a pair of black bunny ears. That was the first thing Charlie pointed out when we were left alone, and it's stuck with him for the last 3 years.

"Can you stay the night? I'm afraid to be alone." I anxiously asked.

"Too many horror movies?" He knew that wasn't the case, but he was too nice to make that knowledge known. "Let me go home and grab some stuff."

As he slides out of the bathroom window, my anxiety rises again. With no one else in the house for a while, I was afraid the unknown person would come back. I was used to being alone. My dad was always gone, trying his best to keep money coming. I love him, but the feeling of isolation was one I was far too used to. Charlie was the only help.

I need a bath. No, wait. I crave a bath. I go to grab clothes, settling on a random horror movie t-shirt, a flannel, and a pair of pajama shorts. So Charlie knows I'm bathing; I open the bedroom window and I close the bathroom window. Usually, once I was in, we'd open the door and we'd continue our conversation, but with the recent state of him and Kirby, I decided he probably needed a small break from me. Before shutting the bathroom door, I quickly wrote a note stating that I was indecent.

Turning the lights off, lighting the candles, and running the water, I was finally able to relax for the first time all day.

My phone started ringing.

At first, I ignored it. If it was anything important, they could call the landline. The people closest to me know I hate phone calls, so they won't call.

Immediately, I hear it ring again. Getting out of the tub with a sigh, I quickly wrapped my towel around myself and walking into my bedroom.

Begrudgingly, I answer "Hello?"

A deep, robotic voice replied, "Hello." Something about it was familiar.

"Who is this? Can I help you?"

"You know who it is." I heard a blunt, almost threatening reply.

"No, I don't."

"You sure about that? Aren't you supposed to be a movie buff?"

"I guess," I sourly replied in confusion.

"Don't you know the movie Stab?" That's when it clicked. This is the Ghostface voice. 

"This isn't funny." Are you the same person who sent that video? I could have you arrested!" I angrily replied to the prankster.

"The people you surround yourself with won't make it much longer." There was a pause. "You, though? I'd like to keep you around for a bit." Then he hung up.

Suddenly, everything felt cold and hot at the same time. I felt exposed, uncomfortable in my own skin. I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? Everything feels so far away. 

Attempting to make it to my bed, I fell. As I fell, trying to grasp whatever was around me, I hit my side. Still sore from falling the previous night, I hissed in pain. Everything hurts. Where is Charlie? He could fix this. I can't move. Why can't I move? 

I hear Charlie come in soon after. I could tell because he shut the window, which had been squeaking recently. As soon as he realizes I'm on the floor, he runs to me, forcing me to take sips of the water he brought.

Then everything went black.

Fluttering my eyes open, everything feels so weird. Like I snorted a line of melatonin. God, what time is it? Finally regaining my vision, I look at my clock. 10 pm. How long was I out for? When did I get dressed? I can hear the shower. 

Slowly getting up, I shuffle to the door and knock. The shower promptly shuts off. I hear shuffling. Soon enough, Charlie opens the door, only wearing a towel, loosely tied around his waist.

"I'm sorry," I shot out quickly but quietly. 

Charlie doesn't say anything. He just hugs me. Charlie, hugging me, in only a towel. What I'm feeling right now seems so foreign to me. Sure, I've felt this way before, but not about Charlie. Never Charlie. 

Realizing I'm not hugging back, Charlie, with his hand on my cheek and thumb on my chin, he pushes my face up a bit to look at his. 

"Are you okay?" a concerned tone echoing through my ears. I didn't want to tell him. It was just a stupid joke. There's nothing to concern him about. 

Instead of telling him, I just nodded. Unable to let out a sound. I didn't want to lie. I couldn't lie to him. I was fine now, so it wasn't a lie. 

He silently points to the bed. Understating what he meant, I shuffle over. Pulling the blankets back, I slide under. I need this. Charlie, still in only a towel, walks to my stack of DVDs. Quickly grabbing the first Stab movie, he puts it in and beelines to the bathroom to get dressed, leaving the door open.

I did not want to watch this. I couldn't tell Charlie that.

After some shuffling from the bathroom and the sound of the movie ringing out, I finally closed my eyes. I am safe. Charlie wouldn't ever let something happen to me. As I near sleep, I hear him attempting to silently walk to my bed. As the sound got closer, I felt the bed dip behind me.

Charlie and I always shared, usually ending up snuggled together. After a while, we just gave up on keeping space between us. 

I felt his arm slip under mine and wrap around my waist. For the first time, I don't have to convince myself that I am safe. I can feel it.

I wanted this every night.