#“He would NOT fucking say that” moment

[lxvvie]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[bunnys-kisses]

shut up and put your money where your mouth is

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words

a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!

wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.

this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.

"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.

you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.

he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.

damn max verstappen.

the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.

and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"

you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.

enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.

you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.

max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."

you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."

he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.

you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"

max swallowed, "not friends."

you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.

max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."

the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.

-

you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.

you'd be his one day.

-

you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.

"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.

"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.

"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."

he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.

"focus on one thing." you groaned.

"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.

when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.

he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.

"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.

"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.

"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.

both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.

enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.

he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.

"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.

"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.

max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.

"fuck."

"please, max."

"i know."

you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.

you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.

max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.

max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.

you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.

he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.

you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.

"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.

you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.

he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.

"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.

the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.

the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.

"max."

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."

and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."

-

the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.

your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.

the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.

this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.

a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.

post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.

"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.

he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.

"oh..."

"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?

it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.

he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3

[willowsnook]

Concerned (LN)

lando norris x neighbor!reader

Another late night working and you were exhausted. You’d been on PTO the week before, so now you were playing catch-up and drowning. Trudging back to you apartment, you rounded the corner and ran right into someone else.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” your neighbor said at the same time you started to apologize. You had met him a couple of times, but he was gone a lot, so it was a pretty standard friendly neighbor relationship.

“You look horrible.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, and a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes and a weary expression that spoke of sleepless nights. The lines on his forehead deepened as he tried to hide his fatigue, but you couldn't help but notice how drained he looked.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping,” he admitted, and you tilted your head, looking for more, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Okay, come on,” you said, heading towards your apartment. With a moment's hesitation, he followed behind you into your apartment. The first thing that caught his eye was the unique decor - the walls adorned with scattered pieces of art, each telling its own story. The colors and textures clashed and complemented each other in a chaotic symphony, creating an atmosphere that felt both whimsical and intimate. He couldn't help but feel drawn in, wanting to explore every inch of this quirky space that was a reflection of you.

You sat him down on a barstool in the kitchen before opening a cabinet filled with various powders and ingredients. He watched as you contemplated a bit before picking a couple down and placing them on the counter. Filling the kettle and putting it on the stove, you turned back to him and tried to figure him out.

“You have a lot of ingredients for tea,” he said, not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, I read this book earlier this year about a woman who owned a tea shop and then became fixated on making perfect tea,” you said and he smiled. He felt himself starting to relax around you, appreciative that you hadn’t pushed on why he looked so tired even though he knew you probably had a good idea.

The comfortable silence lasted a couple of more minutes before being interrupted by the high scream of the kettle, and you carefully poured it into a cup that would turn it into your favorite tea invention.

“Let it cool for a couple of minutes,” you told him, and he nodded, picked it up, and moved to the couch. You unpacked your bag from work, looking up occasionally to see him sipping and staring out of your grand windows. Deciding he was probably fine by himself, you went to take a shower and change into your pajamas.

As you emerged from the bedroom 20 minutes later, you spotted the familiar mug sitting on the coffee table, and him sprawled out, fast asleep on the couch. A small smile tugged at your lips as you quietly made your way over to him, careful not to wake him. The soft light filtering through the window cast a gentle glow on his sleeping face. You reached for a nearby blanket and draped it over his body, making sure he was warm and comfortable before retreating back to your room.

The next morning you slept in a little later before coming back out into the kitchen. Lando was still snoring softly on the couch and you kept quiet as you made coffee and pulled out eggs for breakfast. You heard him stir and looked over your shoulder to see him sitting up, yawning. He slipped off the couch and made his way towards you.

“I owe you one,” he said and you waved him off. “You are my favorite neighbor.”

“What an honor,” you joked and he smiled.

“What can I do to repay you?”

You stood thinking for a second before smirking, “Well I’d love it if you could get me Carlos’ autograph; he’s my favorite driver.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together disapprovingly, causing deep lines to form on his forehead. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his reaction before turning back to the skillet of sizzling eggs.

“I’m going to head out now, but again, thank you for last night. I really needed it,” he said, and you turned, surprising him as you hugged him. His embrace was tight but not suffocating, and his arms felt strong and sturdy around you. When he pulled back, you could feel the weight of his exhaustion in the way his body slumped slightly.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you said.

“It’s hard,” he replied and you pulled back to see his sad eyes looking back at you. Giving him one last smile, he left you to make breakfast, retreating back to his own place.

———————————————————————

The rest of your weekend went by quickly and you enjoyed the relaxation of not having to think about work. Sunday afternoon, you were deep cleaning your apartment, casually paying attention to the football games you had in the background. After scrubbing your kitchen, you took a break, pulling out your phone and scrolling through Twitter.

Now, you weren’t a big F1 fan; you just tuned in every once in a while mainly because you thought it was cool that you knew a driver, but you’d see tweets on your timeline every once in a while. One caught your attention, and you opened the thread to see some account commenting on a recent stream that Lando had been on with his friends. You watched the video of his friends making fun of him for eating expired food and giggled as they ragged on him.

Thinking back to the other night, you started to actually be concerned about him eating expired food. First of all, it was gross as fuck. Secondly, it could easily make him sick. Having an idea, you grabbed your keys before heading off to the grocery store.

A couple of hours later you were outside Lando’s door, having just knocked on it. He was surprised to see you standing there when he swung open the door.

“I have something for you,” you said, and his eyes flickered down to the bag in your hand before letting you in. Setting it down on the counter, you began pulling out all the Tupperware filled with several different things.

“This should last you until you have to leave again to race,” you said nonchalantly, turning to look at you. He looked at you wide-eyed, taking in what you did for him.

“You made me food?” He asked slowly and you nodded.

“I heard that you were eating expired food, which is disgusting,” you said, and a small smile crossed his face. “That could also kill you, and it would be really irritating to have a bunch of police and noise here to deal with it.”

“Mmmhmm,” he said smirking. “So you did it because you didn’t want to be inconvenienced if I poisoned myself?”

“Exactly,” you told him. “If you were my favorite driver, I would say I was doing it because I care about you and want to make sure you are okay.”

“But I’m not your favorite,” he said and you nodded. “Correct.”

He smiled to himself as you bid him goodbye before heading back.

Later that night he hopped on to stream with Max who instantly asked him what he had for dinner.

“A burrito bowl,” he replied and Max perked up.

“Did you order it?” He asked and Lando shook his head.

“No, my neighbor heard that I was eating expired food so she made me a bunch of meal prepped things to last a couple of weeks.”

“Was it your hot neighbor?” Max asked with a smirk and Lando blushed.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“Just so everyone in the chat knows, Lando has been simping over one of his neighbors for almost a year now, and instead of just talking to her like a normal person, he just stalks her on social media and turns into a lovesick school boy anytime he sees her.”

“That’s not true,” he complained and Max laughed.

"Remember when you saw her at the little coffee shop by your place? She chatted with you for what, five minutes? You couldn't stop talking about it for weeks," he teased, savoring the memory of his friend's flustered excitement.

“Shut up mate,” Lando muttered with a slight grin. Little did he know that you had been tuned into the stream, listening to all of this.

pt 2

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you please write sweet,subtle,cute things batboys+Bruce does when they are crushing on reader?

Dick

He wants to spend a lot of time with you. Literally.

He’s very much the kind of guy who wanted to see you smile and laugh with every interaction that you had with him, just so he could shamelessly memories both your laughter and smile to his memory long after the outing you both had was over.

He would make goofy remarks or recall a story from recent memory that he thought would make your day a bit brighter. Gotham was often a depressing city that could easily damper anyone’s mood with its lack of dramatic change to better the lives of the people who lived within the seemingly cursed town.

So seeing you happy and smiling was more than enough to keep Dick’s hopes up for a better future, hopefully for the both of you should you reciprocate his feelings. He’d gladly die knowing that the last thing he remembers was your laughter and smiling face, looking like an absolute angel in his eyes, but this was him just being a dramatic romantic who just wished to be the very reason you lived a relatively happy life.

Dick would use Hayley quite often when he wanted you to prolong your stay at his place, claiming she’s going to miss you greatly, when it was actually him who’d miss you the moment you walked out the door. After all who could say no to a cute doggy that looked up at you with thoughtless but happy to be there eyes. So it wasn’t uncommon that you and Dick would take Hayley out on walks together through a safe area where he would let Hayley off the leash, only to watch with a warmth blossoming within his chest as you and Hayley enjoyed each others company.

Dick would come to see you, himself and Hayley as a little family of your own making and would love nothing more than to have this become a common thing. Something he wished would become a thing of reality rather than a fantasy he’d visit within his sleep, but he can take what he can get for you being in his life was more then enough, even if there wasn’t a label to what you were to each other.

Another thing he would do was buy you things that he’d thought you’d like. Anything that he saw within a shop window that reminded Dick of you was already bought within minutes as he would then go on a hunt for more things to buy you for the sake of spoiling you for being his anchor and his person through thick and thin. It could be blankets, plushies or sweets that he knew you’d find comfort in it didn’t really matter as he’d treat you like the royalty you were in his mind, all the while getting you a silly card with a cleverly thought out pun that he would write an equally silly message within it, hoping it would become a keepsake to look back on with a sappy but warm feeling within your chest.

Bruce

Very giving but he would act like a real distinguished gentleman towards you.

Alfred raised him right that’s for fucking sure.

He’s the type to never let you pay for anything, always having his card in hand to hand off to the waiter, nor to place on the card reader in a retail store, before you has the chance to reach inside your purse/wallet. It didn’t help that he looked smug after paying for the things that you let your eyes linger a second too long upon.

The man didn’t fear for the loss of money in his bank for as soon as the money was spent, the money lost was quickly replenished within the blink of an eye. No exaggeration.

Bruce would only want to be a provider for you and the type of partner that you could feel safest with as he takes care of you and your needs first and foremost, all the while making sure to make your life a hell of a lot more easier as he helps you by helping you into your shoes, zipping up your coat when it’s cold and put gloves on your hands while stroking the backs of your hands gently; offering you his arm with a smile afterwards as he escorted you both out of the manor to attend a charity event that Wayne Enterprises was hosting.

He personally asks for you to company him to these such grand events as his plus one, even offering to buy you formal attire should you lack any in your wardrobe, or go ahead into buying you one regardless and giving it to you as a present just so he could see your raw reaction himself when you opened the box to see the high quality attire he had picked out for you. Ironically it matched his own attire but in the most subtle of ways that not many would spot unless they were actively looking.

The press have a field day with this as you were frequently seen on Wayne’s arm, so much so that they called you his secret spouse in the tabloids, not that you see them as serious though as the press will make anything up to get people to read their half baked stories.

Offers to drive you home all the time no matter what, it didn’t matter if your home was within walking distance Bruce didn’t feel it was necessary for you to walk alone home when he had a perfect car in excuse use to take you home instead. Just give him a text and he’ll come over within minutes, but even if you didn’t text him he’ll turn up anyway as though he knew where you’d be, and when asked about it he only shrugs and says that he was merely in the same place at the same time, you joked and said that he might’ve been tracking you and Bruce only cleared his throat as he drove you home.

Damian

He’s not so quick to anger when it comes to you, almost like your presence was all that was needed to reassure his mind and bring peace to it without needing to try.

No outbursts came your way at all that many thought you were the one person Damian would never yell at, and they were right but Damian would deny all of this, but even deep down he knew it was something he couldn’t deny forever not if he was going to confess his deepest feelings sooner or later.

He felt as though he could experience a normal life with you as he found himself confining in you with things that he didn’t tell anyone else. You were his safe space whether or not you were aware of it, and sooner or later Damian found himself smiling and laughing and enjoying life as he taught you how to draw.

He was patient with you, more then he ever was with anyone else as he taught you brush strokes, to knowing what type of pencil to use for effective shading along with shading techniques and which ones would make your sketches some more life to them. If it seemed as though you were struggling with his verbal instructions, he’ll use a fresh page in his sketch book and show you firsthand how to do it in a step by step manner, waiting for you to follow along his steps and smiling softly to himself when your finish sketch looked similar to his.

He’s happy that he’s made you happy, it’s not something he’s ever done but if it was just for you then he’ll do it again for the rest of his life.

He’ll even let you name an animal he found abandoned somewhere, letting you hold it in your hands and loving the image before him as you smiled down at the animal he found, handling it with uttermost care as though you were afraid of hurting them. Once you’ve given it a name, Damian will treasure it by always holding them against his chest wherever he could when the occasion arises, as they were the closest thing to you in this point and time. And he smiles every time he looks at them and feels a lightness within his chest.

He’ll use the little guy to have your constant company…not that he’ll ever admit to using such a tactic to anyone.

Jason

He’s a lot more lighthearted with you and playful, almost as if the boy he used to be was coming through.

He’s softer towards you also as he would always be the first to offer you help with whatever you needed without a second thought. He wanted to be helpful towards you, and so he would go out of his way and prove himself as such by doing small but meaningful things that he’d knew you’d appreciate greatly, whether that be getting your coat or reminding you of whether you were forgetting to take your mandatory medication. Literally anything you needed help with Jason will do it without being hesitation.

This then becomes him doing stuff on your behalf that he knew you didn’t like by memory because he remembered everything about you, from your likes to your dislikes, anything related to you he remembers it as though he had known for a long time.

He just wanted to show to you that he wasn’t what others perceived him to be, he didn’t want you to think of him as an angry, broken, hollow husk of a man who knew nothing but revenge and self destructive tendencies that left him feeling lonelier then ever.

Jason would offer up his apartment as your safe reprieve, you were allowed to enter his place whenever you please. He didn’t mind either way as your presence was a much welcomed one, for Jason had never had he felt comfortable in going home just to find you waiting for him with a smile, whether or not your good at cooking didn’t matter as he could easily cook you both up something, or you’d both go to the nearest fast food restaurant for some much needed greasy comfort food.

The domestic act of having you in his apartment constantly that sooner or later he’s seen that you’ve made the apartment even more like home to him, for it has traces of you scattered here and there and Jason couldn’t help but smile at seeing your touches made to his home that he could only wish that he could ask you to move into his apartment permanently. He knew he couldn’t ask that of you yet, especially not when he has still to confess to you.

He’s protective over you and was more then willing to scare off anyone that was doing your head in by overstepping your boundaries. So once they had left you alone Jason would look to you and ask whether you were okay in a soft tone. His eyes filled with concerned he holds you by the shoulders, looking you over incase you were hiding anything from him before moving forward, making sure that there was no one else to cause you problems for the rest of the day.

[chosok-amo]

FILM 01. OOPS! WRONG ROOM!

☆ sum. because of yuuji’s stupid prank, you decided to give him the taste of his own medicine and prank him in the middle of the night. but, because, sometimes, in the middle of the night you lack common sense, you accidentally climb the wrong room and end up in his older brother’s room.

warning. non-sorcerer au, fluff, harsh-words (curse, etc), crack, sukuna accidentally slap you :').

☆ , DECEMBER, WHEN WINTER FINALLY COMES

11 PM.

you stand in front of the two-story house, a determined look on your face and a backpack slung over your shoulder, weighing heavily with the tools of revenge you brought along. the night has fully settled, with the sky draped in inky darkness, only broken by the faint glow of the moon. a cool breeze brushes against your face, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as the branches of nearby trees sway and scrape against one another, filling the quiet night with an eerie creaking sound. in the distance, the faint chirping of crickets echoes through the silence, adding to the sense of stillness.

you glance at your reflection in the darkened window of a parked car, catching sight of your hair in the moonlight—a sickly shade of blue that catches your eye and makes you clench your fists. “yuuji itadori,” you mutter under your breath, teeth clenched. the anger flares up in your chest again, hot and insistent. it was all his fault. that idiot and his stupid pranks. you’d thought you could trust him, that he was just being nice when he suggested a “fun” hair treatment. but now, thanks to him, your hair looked like a mess, a ridiculous blue that was nothing like the color you’d agreed on.

tonight was the night for revenge.

you sling the backpack higher on your shoulder, its contents shifting slightly, and mutter to yourself, “say goodbye to your precious hair, you fucking bastard.” you know yuuji’s going to regret the day he ever thought of pulling a prank on you. your feet carry you to the side of the house, stepping lightly over the grass as you survey the windows. in all your visits here, you realize you never actually paid attention to where yuuji’s room is. that oversight might slow you down, but it won’t stop you. the anger bubbling in your chest is more than enough to keep you focused.

determined, you scan the side of the house, eyeing each window in turn. your gaze falls on a room with a tiny balcony, faint light seeping through the curtains. you pause, hearing muffled laughter. a grin spreads across your face—of course, that has to be his room. the laughter sounds like yuuji’s, and who else would be awake and laughing at this hour? you take a deep breath, suppressing a triumphant chuckle of your own.

carefully, you approach the thick, sturdy tree beside the house. its branches stretch outward like bony fingers, offering you a path up toward that balcony. your fingers brush against the rough bark as you grab hold of the lowest branch and hoist yourself up. the tree is old, its bark rough and uneven, making it easy to grip, but the branches are high enough that you have to stretch and carefully pull yourself from one to the next. the creak of wood under your weight fills the air, and for a brief moment, you freeze, afraid that you’ve made too much noise. but the house remains silent aside from the faint sound of yuuji’s laughter filtering through his window.

one branch at a time, you climb higher, your heart pounding harder with each step. the wind catches your hair, making the blue strands sway in the breeze, reminding you exactly why you’re here. the closer you get to that balcony, the more your grin widens. this is it. you’re almost there.

as you near the last branch, excitement pulses through you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by a rush of fear as your foot slips on a patch of moss. in a split second, you’re thrown off balance, and your heart skips a beat. you gasp, feeling yourself sway, and instinctively, you blurt out, “oh shit!”

your hands fly to the trunk, gripping it tightly as you hug the rough bark, holding on for dear life. your heart hammers in your chest, pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the reality of what almost just happened sinking in. the cold bark scratches against your cheek, but you don’t dare move, frozen in place, caught between relief and lingering fear.

after a few seconds, you force yourself to loosen your grip slightly, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. glancing up, you see the branch you were aiming for, just a bit higher. it’s within reach, but now, your legs feel a little shaky. the thought of slipping again makes you hesitate, but your anger and determination to get back at yuuji push you forward.

with renewed caution, you carefully adjust your footing, triple-checking each step, and finally manage to reach that last branch. once you’re stable, you let out a sigh of relief, silently thanking whatever luck you have left. hugging the trunk one last time for reassurance, you shift your focus back to your mission—yuuji’s room is just within reach.

at least that’s what you thought.

finally, you reach a branch that stretches close to the balcony. it’s a little risky, a bit of a jump, but you’ve come this far. you steady yourself, crouching on the branch as you judge the distance. taking a deep breath, you lean forward and make the jump, landing on the narrow balcony with a soft thud. you quickly grab hold of the railing to steady yourself, glancing at the window to make sure your entrance hasn’t been noticed.

through the gap in the curtains, you can just make out yuuji lying on his bed with his back on you, his phone in hand, laughing at something on the screen. completely oblivious. perfect.

you reach into your backpack, pulling out the can of temporary neon green hair dye. it’s obnoxious, bright enough to be seen from space, and will make yuuji’s hair look ridiculous. it won’t be permanent, but he’s going to have a hell of a time trying to wash it out. satisfied with your plan, you pop open the lid, taking a quick glance through the window to make sure he’s still distracted.

you carefully, silently ease the window open just enough to slip inside. his laughter continues, completely oblivious to the danger creeping up beside him. your footsteps are soft as you step onto the carpeted floor, your eyes locked on yuuji as he scrolls through his phone, still chuckling to himself. you can’t help but roll your eyes—of course he’d be laughing when he’s about to get pranked himself. irony at its finest.

but. . .

your heart stops as the person on the bed snaps around, and before you can even react, a startled scream tears from his lips. his hand flies out in reflex, catching you square across the cheek and sending you sprawling back onto the carpet with a sharp, stunned yelp. pain radiates from your cheek, your vision blurring slightly as you clutch the spot where he struck you.

“oh, fuck!” you groan, the sting spreading across your face. you struggle to sit up, blinking away the dizziness. the reality of the situation hits you hard as you finally look up and realize… this isn’t yuuji.

no, it’s his older brother, sukuna.

he sits on the bed before standing up in quick motion, his eyes narrowing as they bore into you, a mixture of irritation and dark amusement flickering in his gaze. his face is almost identical to yuuji’s, but the atmosphere is entirely different—cold, intimidating, and absolutely confused.

sukuna’s eyes rake over you, taking in your presence in his room. it quickly changes from surprise to annoyance. “what the hell are you doing here?” he snaps, tossing his phone aside. he crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing. “and how did you even get in here?”

you can feel the tension in the room growing palpable. he’s clearly not happy about your unexpected entrance, and your cheek is still throbbing from where he hit you. you swallow hard, struggling to find your voice amidst the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

sukuna’s eyes are fixed on you, his brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of you, sprawled on the carpet. his irritation is apparent, but there’s also an underlying hint of curiosity, like he’s trying to figure out what to make of this unexpected intrusion. “care to explain what you’re doing in here, sneaking around like a damn rodent?” sukuna growls, his voice sharp and impatient. “yuuji didn’t invite you here tonight, did he?”

sukuna stands there, hands planted firmly on his hips now, sharp eyes taking in every detail of your appearance. he recognizes you vaguely; he’s seen you hanging around his house on occasion, always with yuuji and his usual group of idiotic friends. though he’s never bothered to learn your name or really acknowledge your presence, your face has become familiar enough to him that he can place you instantly. he watches you carefully, as though trying to piece together why you would take such a risk to sneak into his room, of all places, with such an audacious plan.

your head shakes in small, hurried movements, your hand still pressed against your cheek, trying to muffle the sting from his slap. “n-no… yuuji didn’t invite me,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you bite your lip to keep from wincing aloud. your fingers press gently against the sore spot, feeling the heat rising under your skin where his hand had connected.

“i thought you were him,” you admit, the explanation sounding weaker with each passing second. sukuna’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes flicking from your cheek to the blood at the corner of your lip. he just stands there, one hand on his hip while the other falls flat on his side, eyes narrowed, sizing you up like he’s assessing a stray cat that’s somehow wandered into his territory.

sukuna’s eyes narrow, watching every move you make, his irritation not softening in the slightest. he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest once again, looking down at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild interest. his gaze flickers from your swollen cheek to the faint trace of blood on the corner of your lip.

“you thought i was yuuji?” he repeats, voice laced with disbelief, as if the very idea of being mistaken for his younger brother is an insult in itself. “how do you even confuse the two of us?” his tone drips with condescension, his gaze searing into you as you struggle to sit up, holding your cheek to ease the throbbing pain.

the adrenaline is still making your head spin, and your cheek stings with every slight movement. “i don’t know, i…i just came to prank him,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper as you bite your lip, trying not to whimper at the soreness radiating from where he slapped you. “i thought you were him.”

sukuna scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your explanation. he stands up, towering over you, placing his hands on his hips once again as he gives you a once-over. “right. and now you look like a kicked puppy,” he mutters, almost like he’s annoyed that he feels the slightest bit of guilt over the reflexive slap. he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, as if your injury is an inconvenience to him.

“you’re bleeding, you know,” he says with a grimace, nodding toward your lip. “might want to do something about that.”

your hand flies up to your mouth, fingers brushing over the blood at the edge of your lip. you wince as the pain flares up, and sukuna watches with an unreadable expression as you dab at the spot, failing to hide the pained hiss that escapes your lips.

“for someone sneaky enough to climb a damn tree and break in, you’re pretty fragile,” he comments dryly, his eyes still fixed on you as if trying to make sense of the situation before fixed to the spray hair dye beside you on the floor for a second. “what the hell were you planning to do, anyway? spray yuuji’s hair while he’s sleeping and hope he’d just laugh it off?”

you nod, feeling a little foolish now under his intense gaze, the can of hair dye still lying on the carpet where you dropped it. “it was just supposed to be harmless fun,” you mumble, glancing down, feeling a bit exposed under his scrutiny.

sukuna’s lips twitch into a smirk at your explanation, his annoyance softening into amusement, though it’s laced with a hint of disbelief. “harmless fun?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “so, you thought it would be funny to sneak into our house and mess with my brother while he’s sleeping?”

his tone is sharp, the words falling from his lips with an edge that stings more than the slap, his eyes never leaving you as you sit there, holding your cheek. it’s obvious he’s not buying your excuse, but he’s too damn entertained to show it.

you let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the ridiculousness of the situation. shifting to sit cross-legged on the carpet, you look up at him, feeling a spark of defiance flaring back up. “did you see my hair?” you ask, gesturing at the strands of blue cascading down your shoulders. “it’s all yuuji’s fault.”

sukuna’s brow arches, his smirk widening as he watches you, clearly intrigued but still not entirely convinced. “is that so?” he drawls, folding his arms as he leans slightly against the bedpost, his gaze never leaving you. “and what exactly did he do that made you think you could just break in here?”

you roll your eyes, the memory of yuuji’s previous prank making you scowl slightly. “oh, he thought it’d be hilarious to dye my hair neon blue while pretending to help me dye my hair,” you explain, crossing your arms in annoyance. “i was just trying to get him back. didn’t expect the wrong itadori to be here.”

sukuna lets out a scoff, a sound that might be a stifled laugh. “so you wanted revenge, huh?” he says, his smirk growing wider. “and you thought breaking into our house and sneaking into my room was the way to do it?”

he steps closer to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, that smirk still dancing on his lips. “you’ve got guts, i’ll give you that,” he mutters, his voice a mix of annoyance and grudging respect. “but damn, couldn’t you have chosen a less idiotic plan?”

as sukuna takes a step closer, the sudden shift in his expression sends a jolt through you. instinctively, you scoot back, clutching at the fabric of your clothes as if that’ll somehow guard you from the piercing intensity in his gaze. the smirk on his lips is still there, but there’s something in his eyes—something unreadable—that makes your heart skip a beat.

“w-what are you doing?” you stammer, trying to sound firm, though your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. you don’t break eye contact, refusing to let him see any weakness, but your pulse is racing.

sukuna chuckles, low and dark, as he watches you. “relax,” he drawls, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk of his. “if i wanted to kick you out, i would’ve done it already.” he pauses, gaze flicking over you once more, as if he’s sizing you up. “just curious, that’s all. you break into my house in the dead of night, sneaking around like a cat burglar, and then you get all jumpy when i walk up to you? if anything, i should be the one asking what you’re doing.”

you grit your teeth, trying to steady your breathing. “i… i told you, it was just a prank for yuuji. i didn’t expect you to be here.” you try to keep your voice steady, hoping the indignation overshadows the nervousness bubbling under the surface. “and can you blame me for being cautious? you slapped me as soon as you saw me!”

his gaze softens, just for a moment, like he’s remembering the slap—and the faint tinge of guilt flashes across his expression before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. he gives a half-shrug, still smirking. “maybe i overreacted,” he admits. “but you barged into my room.”

sukuna lets out another scoff, this time a little softer, almost amused by your obvious discomfort. he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you even further, and again, you involuntarily shrink back. the smirk on his lips grows wider, as if he’s enjoying how unnerved you are, despite your best efforts to hide it.

“relax,” he repeats, his voice a low, taunting rumble. “i won’t bite.”

his eyes never leave yours, studying your every reaction keenly, like he’s trying to catch every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. “you’re trembling,” he comments, a hint of mockery in his voice. “why, are you afraid of me?”

a pause as he crotch down, leaving just a few inches between you. his hand reaches out, moving towards your face, and you reflexively flinch at the unexpected touch. sukuna pauses, his fingers pausing just a breath away from your skin, before brushing over your swollen cheek. “does it hurt?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost concerned.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you muster up a dry, sarcastic tone. “what do you think?” you snap, meeting his gaze without flinching this time, though your cheek still throbs from the sting. his fingers linger on your cheek for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating something. the concern in his voice had surprised you, but now you’re more annoyed than anything, wondering if he’s just toying with you for his own amusement.

sukuna’s lips twitch into a faint smirk at your response. “feisty, aren’t you?” he murmurs, clearly amused by your defiance. “guess you’re not as fragile as you look.” you huff, trying to ignore the way his hand feels against your skin, warm and oddly gentle. “did you expect me to just sit here and whimper?” you fire back, arching an eyebrow at him. “maybe you should work on your welcoming skills.”

he chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver up your spine. “i don’t usually have uninvited guests,” he replies, his smirk widening. “especially not ones with the guts to talk back.” the tension between you both lingers, charged and heavy, as his hand falls away, leaving you to realize how close he is, still crouched in front of you.

sukuna reaches into the drawer by his bed, pulling out a small box and setting it on the carpet in front of you. you watch as he opens it, revealing a surprisingly well-stocked first-aid kit—cotton swabs, antiseptic wipes, bandages, and more.

“what… are you doing?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. the idea of sukuna, the one who slapped you moments ago, now tending to your wound feels too surreal. sukuna doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes focused as he pulls out a cotton swab and some antiseptic from the small box. he glances up at you briefly, his gaze unreadable, before he dips the cotton in the antiseptic. “hold still,” he says, his voice quieter, almost like he’s trying not to scare you off.

you feel your brows knit together, watching him suspiciously. “what are you doing?” you ask for the second time, shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his intense gaze making it hard to look away.

“what does it look like?” he says, a slight edge of irritation coloring his tone, though he doesn’t break eye contact. “i’m cleaning up the mess i made.” he reaches toward your cheek, you instinctively tense up, but his touch is unexpectedly gentle. the antiseptic stings slightly as he dabs it onto your skin, and you can’t help but wince. he moves the cotton swab across your cheek, waiting a beat to make sure you won’t pull away.

“don’t be a baby,” he mutters, though there’s a faint trace of amusement in his tone. you roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “maybe if someone didn’t slap me…” you mumble, unable to resist throwing some sarcasm back his way.

sukuna lets out a snort, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “maybe if someone didn’t sneak into my room in the middle of the night,” he retorts, the edge to his voice lessening slightly as he continues tending to your wound. “can’t blame me for being startled, now, can you?”

his eyes are fixed on your face, his expression serious and focused as he works, and you struggle to keep yourself from reacting to his touch. despite his previous aggression, his movements are oddly careful, almost as if he was worried about causing you more pain. “i’m taking responsibility, aren’t i?” he retorts, but his voice is noticeably softer than before.

he continues to clean up the wound on your cheek, his gaze never leaving your face. his touch, despite the initial start, is careful and precise. there’s something almost tender about his actions, but his expression remains composed, revealing nothing more than mild annoyance. “you’re surprisingly docile when you’re quiet,” he notes, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

sukuna’s eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, the hint of a knowing smile on his lips as he continues to gently apply the antiseptic, his touch both tender and precise.

his words take you by surprise, the uncharacteristic compliment causing your cheeks to flush slightly. you open your mouth to shoot back a retort, but for some reason, the words don’t come as easily as they did before. “i… just don’t want to give you another reason to slap me,” you manage to stammer out, trying to sound defiant but instead finding yourself a little flustered.

sukuna lets out a chuckle, his eyes narrowing amusedly as he sees your flustered reaction. “you’re not as tough as you act,” he says, a hint of mockery in his tone. “i’ve seen scared rabbits with more backbone than you.”

he stops applying the antiseptic and sets it aside, his hand moving to grab a small bandage from the first-aid kit. his gaze drops back to your cheek, his expression strangely serious as he carefully applies the bandage. “you lucked out that i was in a good mood,” he adds, his voice quieter.

you roll your eyes, letting out an exaggerated scoff as sukuna’s words sink in. “oh, i feel so honored,” you reply sarcastically, the dry bite in your tone impossible to miss. you lift a hand to feel the freshly placed bandage on your cheek, not sure if you’re more irritated by the sting or by the smug expression he’s wearing.

with a glare, you turn to really look at him, noting for the first time just how much he resembles yuuji—the same face shape, the same strong build. but the similarities end there. where yuuji’s face is open and kind, sukuna’s is sharp, his features only intensified by the black tattoos and those unsettling deep crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you.

your gaze holds his, and you let out a low murmur, almost daring, “so... what would you do if you weren’t in a good mood, then? eat me?” you quirk an eyebrow, attempting to match his intensity, though there’s a part of you that’s not entirely sure if you’re joking.

sukuna’s lips twitch at your sarcastic response, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction. his eyes follow your hand, watching you touch the bandage. he notices the hint of irritation in your expression, but he seems to revel in it, his gaze sharpening as you meet his eyes.

at your question, his smirk turns into a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral glimmer.

“maybe,” he replies, his voice dropping to a purr-like grunt, “if you keep testing my temper, who knows what i might do.” he tilts his head slightly, studying you with a mix of irritation and mild amusement.

sukuna’s smirk widens and his eyes roam over you with that bold, shameless look, you can feel your cheeks heating up against your will. his tone is low and teasing, each word laced with a dangerous, sultry undertone that makes your stomach flip.

you feel your cheeks flare up, and you can’t hide the way your body reacts to sukuna’s bold comment and the way his gaze trails over you with that dangerous glint. that smirk of his only gets wider, more amused, as he takes in your flustered expression making your stomach crunches. it’s like he’s toying with you, fully enjoying the effect he’s having.

when he drops his voice and mutters that sultry, “i’ll make sure you feel good, though,” it sends a shiver through you, one that you quickly shake off. ignoring the warmth rising to your face, you roll your eyes and lift your foot, giving him a swift kick to the shoulder. it’s not hard, but it’s enough to send him sprawling back onto the carpet. “ugh, fuck off, you pervert,” you huff, crossing your arms as you glare down at him.

sukuna’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected kick, stunned for a moment before he lets out a laugh, his body thudding against the carpet. he lands flat on his back, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face. he doesn’t sit up right away, just lies there, the smirk on his lips growing wider as he looks up at you, obviously finding your reaction very entertaining.

“pervert, am i?” he quips, raising an eyebrow as he runs a hand through his hair. “big talk from the one sneaking into my room at night, hm?” the smirk still on his lips as he gazes up at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that’s both infuriating and captivating.

sukuna pushes himself up to leans on his two elbows, looking up at you with that infuriating smirk still firmly in place. “seems i touched a nerve,” he purrs, his voice smooth and low. “all i did was say i’d make you feel good. you can’t honestly say that was perverted.” he pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down your body in a way that feels almost like a caress. “i wonder,” he continues, his voice dropping to a murmur, “what other buttons i could push to get those cute little reactions out of you.”

your eyes widen as his words sink in, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flaring up inside you. with a gasp, you instinctively cross your arms over your body, as if shielding yourself from the weight of his gaze. “are you serious?” you sputter, heat creeping up your cheeks.

you quickly gather yourself, and before he has a chance to react, you reach out and give his shoulder a solid shove, enough to make him fall back onto the carpet with a thud. “you are such a pervert,” you snap, your voice laced with annoyance as you glare down at him.

sukuna lets out another laugh, unbothered by your shove. he lands back on the carpet, his body sprawled out once more. he doesn’t make any move to get up again, just lies there with that irritatingly smug expression on his face.

“you’re so sensitive,” he teases, his tone mocking. “i haven’t even done anything, and you’re already blushing. makes me think you secretly like it when i talk dirty.” he props himself up on his elbow, tilting his head with a smirk. “or maybe it’s just my charming presence.”

your eyes narrow at him, cheeks burning as you bite back the urge to say something that might fuel his ego even more. “shut up,” you snap, your voice laced with irritation as you glare down at him. sukuna’s smirk fades slightly as he looks at you, a curious glint replacing the usual cockiness in his eyes. he studies you for a moment, almost as if he’s seeing you in a new light. then, with a slight tilt of his head, he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his voice a bit softer, though there’s still that edge of intrigue. you blink, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. it’s rare to see him ask something so straightforward without a teasing or mocking tone. for a second, it feels almost... genuine, like he actually wants to know.

“why?” you retort, trying to keep the edge in your voice despite the way his gaze makes your heart race.

he chuckles, leaning back slightly. “can’t a guy be curious?” he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours. “i see you hanging around here often enough. figure i might as well know what to call the bold little intruder.”

there’s a playful glint in his eyes, but underneath it, there’s something that feels almost… sincere. you look at him with a mix of suspicion and surprise, narrowing your eyes as you try to gauge his intentions. why was he suddenly so curious? sukuna’s never exactly struck you as the type to care about formalities, much less asking someone’s name without some ulterior motive. but, still, under that sharp gaze of his, you feel a small sense of obligation to answer.

“…it’s y/n,” you mumble, the words slipping out almost involuntarily as you avert your gaze, feeling oddly self-conscious under his stare.

at the sound of your name, sukuna’s smirk softens into a slight smile. “y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound of it on his tongue. the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, like the smooth sound of a purr. the syllables rolling off his tongue like a low, appreciative rumble. there’s something about the way he says your name that sends a small shiver down your spine.

he eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable as he studies your face. his expression is surprisingly soft, the usual sharp edge of mockery missing from his eyes, replaced by a subtle warmth. “y/n,” he murmurs again, almost to himself. then, he grins. “a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

the compliment takes you off guard, your cheeks feeling warm under his gaze. you open your mouth to retort, to brush off his comment with some snarky response, but the words get stuck in your throat. sukuna clearly notices your reaction, his smirk widening into a cocky grin. “mmm, cat got your tongue?” he teases, his voice low and silken. “can’t handle a little praise?”

you feel your heart race as sukuna’s gaze lingers on you, his words lingering in the air like a heavy, unexpected compliment. it catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're left speechless, your mind struggling to come up with a response. you try to brush it off, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays the effect his words had on you.

“shut up,” you manage to stutter, but the words come out far softer than you intended. flustered, you quickly grab the nearest pillow and hurl it toward him with surprising force. it smacks him in the face, but you’re already on your feet, desperate to put some space between you and him.

“god, you’re such a pain,” you mutter, though it’s barely audible as you try to walk away, still feeling the sting of his compliment on your skin. sukuna lets out a low, amused chuckle as the pillow hits him. he sits up properly, grabbing the pillow from his face and holding it in his lap. his eyes follow you as you hurry to put some distance between you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

as you mutter your frustration under your breath, sukuna watches you with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. your flustered reaction to his compliment, the way you tried to flee, only piqued his interest further. “aww, where are you going?” he calls out teasingly. “come back here, don’t be shy.”

you pause mid-step, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his amused tone makes your pulse quicken. crossing your arms, you tilt your head and give him a skeptical look, masking your own lingering embarrassment with a cool expression. “are you enjoying my company now?” you ask, your voice laced with dry sarcasm. “i thought you were annoyed that i showed up unannounced.”

sukuna grins at your reply, leaning back against the side of the bed, his demeanor relaxed and at ease. he holds the pillow up in one hand, absently tracing the edge with his fingers as his gaze locks on you.

“can’t it be both?” he responds, his tone nonchalant. “i’m annoyed at your lack of respect for personal space, but i gotta admit, you’re not entirely unpleasant to look at. or be around, maybe,” he pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering over your figure. “and it was kind of funny watching you squirm just now.”

you let a slow smile spread across your face, folding your arms as you tilt your head, watching him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “oh? should i stay a bit longer then?” you say, your tone light and teasing, each word a subtle challenge.

sukuna lets out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance as he pushes himself up to stand. he shakes his head, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “don’t push your luck,” he mutters, but there’s a flicker of something almost playful in his voice that undercuts the warning.

you let out a soft chuckle, uncrossing your arms and let it fall down to your side “oh, come on,” you say, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “i thought i was at least ‘not entirely unpleasant’ to be around. maybe you’re warming up to me.“

sukuna’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as you respond with a smirk of your own, a flicker of amused irritation crossing his face. he lets out a low scoff, not quite able to hide the hint of amusement in his voice.

“don’t get cocky,” he retorts, the warning tone in his voice contradicted by the playful glint in his eyes. “just because i called you pretty doesn’t mean i don’t find you irritating.” he takes a step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours as he crosses his arms across his chest. “and i never said i was warming up to...” he trails off, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a moment before shifting back up, meeting your eyes with an intense look. “i was just stating a fact,” he continues, his voice lowering to an almost whisper. “you’re not bad to look at, that’s all.”

you roll your eyes at him, letting out a small scoff. “asshole,” you mutter, crossing your arms defiantly. but before you can get too comfortable, you feel sukuna’s hands on your back, firm and insistent, as he starts to nudge you towards the window you came through.

a pout forms on your lips as you drag your feet, resisting slightly. “come on,” you whine, looking up at him with a mock hurt expression, knowing it’ll only irritate him more. “i still want to stay. you’re such great company, after all,” you add with a smirk, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

he lets out an exasperated sigh, his grip on your back firm but not rough as he tries to shove you out. “don’t push it,” he growls, his patience clearly thinning. you can see the twitch in his jaw, and the way his eyes narrow, as if he’s seconds away from throwing you out the window himself.

but you just laugh, twisting around to look up at him with a mischievous grin. “why are you so eager to get rid of me, huh?” you tease, leaning back slightly to stall his efforts. “is it, maybe because you just can’t handle my charm?”

sukuna’s eyes narrow at your relentless stubbornness, his grip on your back becoming even more firm as he tries to guide you toward the window. but you resist, planting your feet like a stubborn mule, and his irritation only grows. as you whine and pout at him, throwing sarcastic jabs at his expense, sukuna grumbles, his patience stretching thinner with every word you speak. he leans in, his face close to yours, his eyes locking onto your defiant gaze.

“your charm?” he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. “more like your irritating persistence.” he gives you another forceful shove, pushing you closer to the window. “just go,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of finality. “before i change my mind and shove you out myself.”

you cling to the railing, balancing precariously on one leg as you tilt your head up at him, a playful pout on your lips. even with half your body hanging out the window, you’re determined to get one last rise out of him. batting your eyelashes dramatically, you lean in, giving him an exaggerated, innocent look. “are you sure you won’t miss me?” you ask in a sing-song tone, your eyes glinting with mischief. you can see his jaw tense, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he glares at you.

sukuna’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching at your relentless stubbornness and irritating persistence. he's tempted to throw you out the window right then and there, but your dramatic pose and exaggerated puppy dog eyes give him pause. “oh, please,” he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. “you’re a headache, a nuisance. what would i miss about you?”

he’s clearly trying to hold back, to keep his emotions in check, but your audacity and lack of fear continue to rile him up. his eyes dart to the window, considering whether it would be better to simply push you out and be done with it, but there’s something about the cheeky sparkle in your eyes that makes him hesitate.

you let out an exaggerated sigh, clutching the railing as you give him your best pleading look. “come on, sukuna,” you whine, batting your eyelashes, “can’t i at least leave through the front door like a normal person?”

his expression darkens, an irritated smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in, his hand pressing firmly on your shoulder to keep you steady but clearly inching you closer to the edge. “you’re leaving the same way you came in,” he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. you can’t help but grin, finding his exasperation oddly satisfying. “aww, don’t be like that,” you tease, “i thought maybe you’d warmed up to me by now.”

his jaw tightens, and he gives you another nudge, his patience clearly wearing thin. “i’m this close to tossing you out myself,” he growls, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, almost like he’s holding back a reluctant smile. with a little laugh, you swing one leg back over the windowsill, making a show of dragging out your departure. “fine, fine,” you say, raising your hands in mock surrender. “i’ll go. but i know you’ll be thinking of me after i’m gone.”

“out!” he barks, finally giving you a proper shove that sends you stumbling backward onto the balcony. as you regain your balance, you can’t resist flashing him one last smirk, blowing him a kiss just to rile him up one more time. his eye twitches, and he slams the window shut with a huff, leaving you on the balcony—but not before you catch the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

sukuna stands by the closed window, his hands clenching into fists, his jaw taut with irritation. he glares through the glass, his eyes fixed on your smirking figure. the last bit of patience he had snaps as you blow him a kiss, his expression darkening further. he slams his hand against the window, the sound echoing through the room. “get lost, dammit,” he mutters to himself, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

you roll your eyes at his dramatic display, taking your sweet time as you turn toward the branch you used to climb up. “seriously,” you mutter under your breath, half amused, half exasperated. “he’s such a bipolar jerk.”

with one last glance over your shoulder, you see him still standing there, fists clenched and glaring daggers through the glass, as if you’d somehow infiltrated his inner sanctum and messed with his world. it almost makes you laugh—you can practically feel the annoyance radiating off him even from here.

“goodnight to you too, sukuna,” you mumble sarcastically, stepping onto the branch. as you begin to make your way down, you hear a faint, frustrated huff from inside. with a small, victorious smirk, you descend, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having left him riled up and flustered in his own room.

☆! TAGLIST :

@byerno6 @curtins @creamflix @m00nyt0astforever @starmapz @aerareads @loveperfectionchaos @jinxiewritings @batmanslobster @vitoshi @monic19 @jayathelostdragon @ureuphoriasworld @cvr2mya @satorustorm

© template by readyoregg

[mysssticc]

Say I’m yours

Warning: nsfw, smut, cat Sylus

“Say I’m yours”

Sylus's words barely registered in your brain, his movements overwhelming you as you struggled to focus. His hands held yours, pinning them above your head, his cat tail wrapping tightly around your thigh and his face buried against your neck, getting drunk in your scent, each touch of his making your body burn with desire.

"Say it, my lady," he ordered.

Your breath hitched as his thrust deepened, the sound of your moans and skin against skin filling the room.

"You- You're mine," you whispered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. He slowed his hips for a moment, seeing your struggle to get the words out.

"Again, louder," he commanded, his voice soft but insistent, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Sy-Sylus... you're mine," you said this time, your voice trembling but stronger than before.

"Keep saying it," he urged, his hips resuming hi rhythm, quickening as you wrapped your legs around him, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts.

"Mine," you whispered over and over again, your soft voice murmuring such possesive words bringing him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, his movements stopped completely as he pulled away from you, leaving you breathless and confused for a moment. Without a word, he repositioned you, laying you onto your stomach and placing a pillow under your hips.

He positioned himself on top of you, gently turning your face to his to give you a messy and desperate kiss as he pushes inside you again, his mouth capturing the moans that scape you as he starts pounding into you from behind.

His lips trailed across your skin, leaving marks that would last for days on your skin. His tail curled back around your thigh, grounding you in the moment.

You could feel the heat building in your lower stomach.

"Sylus..." you murmured, trying to let him know.

"I know, my lady," he said softly, he could feel you were close, his voice almost a growl as he kissed your shoulder. "Me too."

It was when he sneaked a hand between your legs and teased your clit that you finally reached your release, arching your back against his chest , your body trembling as the intensity of your climax reached its peak.

“F-fuck” you heard him groan behind you when he felt you clenching tightly around him, shaking slightly as his own climax reaches him, still moving with sloppy thrusts as he finishes inside you.

You feel Sylus’s relaxing as he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his breath uneven as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your bodies still shuddering from the intensity of it all.

"Sylus..." you murmured, coming back to yourself.

He groaned softly, allowing you to turn in his embrace, resting his head on your chest as you held him close. You could see his tail moving around lazily, content and relaxed.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and remembering the reason you were here. As much as you’d love to stay there with him in your arms, you had a mission to complete.

"Sylus," you said softly, tapping his back to get his attention. "We need to get presentable. We have to meet up with snowy owl soon."

He groaned, nuzzling further into your chest, tightening his arms around you unwilling to let you go just yet.

"Are you still going on about that?" he grumbled.

You shifted in his embrace, letting out a small sound of protest when you felt him still inside of you.

"Are you really going to sell me to her?" he asked, finally letting you sit up, though his grip on you remained firm.

You cradled his face with your hands, and caressed his cheeks softly.

“How about this? As soon as we finish this mission we can cuddle for as long as you wish” you stared into his red eyes trying to show him how serious you were about this.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression not revealing anything that went through his head.

“Fine…” he finally spoke ”but I think cuddling isn’t the only thing I’d want to do, sweetie” his hands that were on your waist tightened slightly, trying to subtly tell you what his intentions were.

You blushed slightly, your pulse quickened with desired at the thought of what could happen between you two in just a few hours.

You smiled sheepishly, leaning closer to him and brushing your lips against his.

“That’s fine by me” you whispered, sealing your words with a hungry kiss.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

bodyguard! katsuki, who stares daggers at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. whose been breaking hearts a long time, toying with girls before finally taking on this job. who, suddenly, doesn’t have the time to go on dates or even to talk to other people, and who says its because of his job.

bodyguard! katsuki, who is unsurprisingly amazing at his job. nothing gets past him. he’s focused on ensuring your safety at all times, without question. and he insists that includes staying by your side for most of your day.

bodyguard! katsuki, who you make sure accompanies you when you go out at night. who has an iron grip on your drink and waits outside the washroom for you. who downs a shot of vodka before dealing with whatever creeps try to come onto you. who isn’t afraid to rough around and swing at someone if they don’t comply. some might say he’s “gone too far this time.” but who can blame him?

bodyguard! katsuki, is also respectful. who will stand in front of you while you adjust your top. who will put one firm hand on your waist, ushering you into the car while holding the door open for you. who very calmly adjusts his cufflinks after barking at some guy for trying to take photos of you. who makes you lose your mind with how sexy he looks angry.

bodyguard! katsuki, who you slowly learn more and more about. who at first protects you because its his job, but learns to do it because he wants to protect you. who watches over you with a smile on his face, proud, watching you in the spotlight where you belong. who learns he doesn’t always need to be the hero and save you- sometimes, you just need someone to talk to.

bodyguard! katsuki, who sometimes can be insane with how protective he is, but he’s yours. who’s love can be poison ivy or daisy, depending on his mood. who grips your hand a little tighter when he’s walking through the streets with you. who, for you, would do anything. who’d fall from grace and walk into hell to keep a smile on your face. who is a good bodyguard because its him, and because its for you.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

f! reader for nsfw

bodyguard! katsuki, who first spends the night with you when you’re drunk. who doesn’t even think about touching you, because he knows how wrong it would be. who gently tucks you into bed, removes your makeup and shoes for you and sleeps on the couch. who leaves a glass of water and painkillers for you in the morning.

bodyguard! katsuki, who you suddenly want in your home more and more. who you have so much tension with you could cut through it with a knife. who it slowly builds up with: shoulders brushing together, taking unbuttoning his shirt because its hot, watching you take your hair down, his arms moving to your waist.

bodyguard! katsuki, who finally snaps when you tell him you want him. who doesn’t waist a second, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. whose muscles you can see through the white fabric. whose cock you can already see straining against his slacks.

bodyguard! katsuki, who you have to remind you aren’t made of glass. who, after some encouragement, rips your clothes off and bites down on your breast, the pleasure melting with the pain. you’re sure he’ll leave a mark, and you love it.

bodyguard! katsuki, who has a thing about leaving marks- bites, bruises, hickeys- he makes sure every part of your skin has been under his touch. who grips thighs so hard when he’s going down on you, leaving angry red hand prints while his tongue swirls around your clit. who doesn’t stop until your screaming.

bodyguard! katsuki, who knows he’s breaking many, many rules by doing this, but forgets about it the moment his cock slides into you. who fits in you perfectly, stretching you out so good you could cum right then and there. who waits until your comfortable before beginning to thrust.

bodyguard! katsuki, who groans words of encouragement into your ear. “you take me so well, yeah? fuck, you feel so good.” who can’t help but try a little harder when he thinks about all the people who will see you the next day. who knows you’re famous during the day, but wants you to be his tonight.

bodyguard! katsuki, who lasts for hours. who doesn’t stop until you can’t speak, until you’re absolutely stuffed to the brim with him alone. who can’t help but take one of your nipples in his mouth while he’s fucking you, wanting every part of your to mend with him, red eyes watching your hips arch and your head throw back into the pillows.

bodyguard! katsuki, who gets your permission first before cumming in you. who makes a mental note to get you plan b in the morning, but who first can only focus on the sensation of filling you up. who groans and curses when he feels you clench around him, taking every last bit of him in. who takes a few minutes before pulling out. who uses his fingers to make sure it stays inside of you.

bodyguard! katsuki, who places a kiss on your forehead before getting you some water and a warm cloth. who tends to all your bruises after, though you tell him you’re okay. who is just as confused as you are as to what this means, but you who isn’t too concerned about it. who makes sure you want to spend the night with him first, before falling asleep after placing a kiss to your shoulder. who’s there when you wake up, holding you. who knows he’s got you for as long as you’ll have him.

bodyguard! katsuki, who laughs to himself in the background of an interview when fans ask if you were attacked by some wild animal.

@crushmeeren 🫧🫧

inspired by dont blame me 🤍

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[error-523scintilla]

As a bisexual woman from and living in Panamá, if someone proudly said out loud they’re an ally I would shed tears of happiness, considering that the default here is Not Being One. Actively someone reminding us we are loved and worth standing with even if technically Not Their Problem, opening themselves to criticism from most of the population, taking the risk, is such a sweet and impactful thing to do. We are few of the countries still not having equal marriage rights, and the piece of shit that our Monseñor is, having an iron fist grip in our politics, it won’t happen soon. So someone from outside the community actively saying they love us is such a beautiful show of love to us here.

When I do tutoring as a side gig with young boys and teenage guys, and they talk to me about stuff they see online, and repeat some mysoginistic bullshit they learnt online, I concerned but patiently ask them what they mean by that. When explaining it out loud I may answer with ‘that’s so mean why would anyone say that about a girl’ with a preoccupied face, and now seeing their favorite funny math teacher looking hurt makes them think ‘wait maybe this is kind of wrong and fucked up actually’. Before that moment, have they ever stopped to think how that was wrong, when all their pals normalize the same thought process? Isn’t that what mysoginistic men online prey on for them to not find out until it explodes on their faces? And now they see their loved tutor, who’s a woman, be affected by those kind of comments when they don’t feel I fit the rhetoric, and ask how much of that stuff is then actually false. To doubt what they’ve been fed, specially in a society like the one in my country. I plant the seed of doubt, and see it bloom. I gently guide them to a place of good while teaching math.

There was this kid in 5th grade before the pandemic who I saw weekly for a few months who one day proudly told me how he defended a girl in his class, who he even kinda disliked for unrelated reasons to this post, be picked up by some other boys for being a girl or some other bullshit I don’t remember. That the stuff they were saying were mean and false and made no sense. He was so proud of standing up for what he felt was wrong and following what his nice teacher had taught him, and I congratulated him for doing a good job. It made him so so happy to be recognized. He was such a nice kid. I hope he’s doing alright now.

Nooo mutual don’t put that “men fall down the alt-right pipeline bc women/feminists are too mean” post on my dash nooo mutual don’t try to say women need to be nicer when dealing with misogynistic men nooo mutual nooo

[sidsinning]

I always assumed Kyoya had implied feelings for Haruhi after finishing OHSHC but then I saw a Tiktok comment saying "I always thought he was in love with Tamaki actually" and my brain fucking exploded

I reached what you would call enlightenment when all their scenes together played like a movie in my head in one moment

That makes so much more damn sense I was like oh my god of course he does

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 20

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19

Chrissy is willing to admit that when Steve doesn’t call her after his date, she panics. If her mom wasn’t such a light sleeper, she would’ve snuck out to check up on him. But instead, she wallows, dozing on the couch, not even able to call Jeff to bitch because what if Steve chooses that moment to call?

So, she can admit, when he finally calls a few minutes after seven in the morning, she’s a little short with him.

“Finally, Steven,” she hisses into the phone, keeping her voice quiet so as not to alert her mother to their conversation. “I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he rushes out, sounding contrite. “We sort of fell asleep.”

Chrissy gasps, a smile slowly spreading on her face as the implications set in. “You guys slept together?” she demands gleefully.

“We didn’t have sex!” he shouts, and she’s glad, for the first time, that his parents are so absent from his everyday life. “We just fell asleep!”

She’s still smiling, twirling the phone cord round and round her fingers. “Does that mean it went well?” she wheedles.

She doesn’t think that Eddie would suddenly realize he’s straight and renege on the date, not really, but Steve had, and she can’t get the terrified tone of his voice out of her head.

“Well—” he drawls, leaving her on tenterhooks for a few seconds more. “He took me to see some shitty horror movie.”

“Oh my god,” she whispers, full-on grinning now. “What a stereotypical move.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he replies so wryly that she can almost see the way his eyes must be rolling. “Except he barely talked to me the whole time and didn’t even try to hold my hand.”

“No!”

“And then he took me into the woods like some sort of serial killer, and then tried to kiss me so abruptly that my lip split a little.”

“No!” she shrieks with laughter before catching herself and slapping a palm over her own mouth as Steve’s own amused chuckle filters through the phone line. “And you still spent the night?”

“He was nervous!” Steve defended. “And besides, the second kiss was much better.”

“Your boy’s a fast learner, huh?”

Steve hums, and she wishes he was here with her, so she could see the dopey grin that must be on his face as he says, “yeah,” with a dreamy sigh. “He took me stargazing.”

Chrissy coos, can’t help it, not when this whole thing’s been building for so long now. Not when there’s been an edge of fear to everything Steve’s said for months. He deserves something nice for once.

“And you’re going out again?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replies, and a knot of fear she’s had tucked beneath her sternum loosens.

He sounds excited, happy, hopeful. If Eddie does anything to jeopardize this, Chrissy will be digging a very deep hole and tossing him into it. She’s got a shovel, and the muscle strength built up from years of cheer—she’ll manage just fine.

So, when Eddie walks up to her in the cafeteria in some sort of fucked up parallel to that first time and bends at the waist in a showy bow, hand outstretched as he asks, “a word, madam?” she’s ready to kill him.

But, when she glances at Steve at her side, his ears are red, and he’s smiling up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. And when she looks back toward Eddie she catches the tail-end of a wink that has Steve sputtering.

Even Jason doesn’t protest from the other side of the table where he’s quietly seething.

So, she takes his hand and follows him out of the cafeteria.

Eddie doesn’t seem to know where he’s going, as he walks through the halls, peering into nooks and crannies until he finds a corner he deems suitably vacant enough. He flops down, legs outstretched in front of him, uncaring of the dirt caking the floor.

He pats the spot next to him, smiling up at her, so she slides down the wall and crouches beside him, unwilling to let her bare legs touch the floor.

Eddie leans away from the wall and wrestles his jacket off before placing it on the floor in front of Chrissy. Gratefully, she sits atop it, crossing her legs to keep them safe. She turns her body so she’s facing Eddie dead on, and he follows her lead.

When he doesn’t say anything, she breaks the silence with a quiet, “I hope you know that if you hurt my friend, I’ll kill you.”

“I have no doubt, Lady Cunningham,” Eddie replies, drawing an X across his heart with his finger. “But, I’m not here to talk about Steve.”

“Then—what?”

He’s grimacing now, no longer meeting her eyes as he fiddles with his rings, one of his fingers bizarrely missing its usual adornment. “We’re friends, right?” he asks hesitantly, like he’s choosing each word with deliberate care.

“Of course,” she replies, eyes trained on the little furrow between his brows. He’s picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans, further fraying the edges. “Why would you ask that?”

He sighs, slumping into himself in a way that makes him look small. “I’m glad I’m here, okay?” he asks, not waiting for her to answer before he continues. “Steve’s great, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But, you still lied to me—"

"We never lied to you," she cuts in, and he waves his hand in assent.

"Yeah, yeah, but you all like, conspired behind my back, and that feels…”

“Shitty,” she continues for him when he seems to lose his words.

“Yeah! Shitty, it feels shitty that you were all talking about me behind my back all so you could keep this from me."

Chrissy sighs. She’d known they’d have to talk about it eventually–clear all this stale air so they could move on–but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. But, he’s right; no matter their intentions, they’d all made a mess of things. She’d known that even as she’d been in the thick of it.

So, she starts where these things should always start, and looks him dead in the eye as she says, “I’m sorry.”

He finally looks up, seeming almost surprised. “Just like that?”

“Yes, Eddie, just like that,” she replies, maintaining eye contact even as her gut squirms. “We were just trying to protect each other, but that doesn’t mean it was the right choice.”

His eyes are wide, still shocked, and she wonders, something uncomfortably close to pity bubbling up within her, if he’s not used to receiving apologies at all.

“Both of you?” he asks.

Chrissy averts her gaze, mouth twisting up. “You know how Steve said Jason has been kind of stalkery?” she asks, watching Eddie nod out of the corner of her eye before she continues. “Well, it was worse before. He kept coming to my house and cornering me at school, and I just wanted to move on.”

It was more than that, though. She still remembers the way fear crept down her spine as cold sweat when she’d opened her door to Jason smiling at her like they’d never broken up, the way her throat had closed up when he’d scooted far too close to her side at the lunch table.

The way he kept cornering her in the hallway when no one was around to witness it. 

“So, when I found Steve trying to write that first letter, I struck a deal,” she continues. She feels bad about that, even now, even still. “He’d be my boyfriend, and I’d help him with the letters.”

She finally turns back to Eddie, braced for, what? Condemnation? But he’s squinting at her like she’s a puzzle he’s trying to crack as he says, “you totally would have helped him anyway,” with so much conviction that it warms her. 

“Oh, definitely.”

He’s still looking at her, but he’s smiling at her, eyes warmer than she’s ever seen them. 

“Alright, I forgive you,” Eddie says, like it’s easy.

It’s too easy. 

“Just because we had reasons doesn’t mean it was fair to you,” she replies, steel in her voice as she squares her shoulders and looks at him dead on. “It doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt,” she finishes, reaching out to pat his knee.

He doesn’t jerk away, just looks at her hand on his knee with a peculiar smile on his face. “You know there was a time when you touching me like that would’ve sent me into a tizzy,” he says, still looking down at her hand.

“And now?”

“Nothing,” he replies, shrugging. “It was never you, Chrissy Cunnigham.”

“You either, Eddie Munson,” she replies, matching his smile as she smacks his hand once before withdrawing. “Now is that it, or was there something else you needed?”

He looks away, cheeks darkening to a blotchy red, she’s almost worried he’ll faint. “I, uh, well, the jacket?”

She thinks of Eddie’s jacket beneath her first, but that’s not where he’s looking. His eyes are planted firmly on the sleeve of Steve’s letterman with a sort of longing that’s almost funny in its intensity.

She doesn’t ask any follow up questions—if he wants the jacket, he can have the jacket. After all, it’s Steve’s no matter how attached to it she’s become, and Steve had looked up at him with the sappiest look she’s ever seen on his face.

She’d do more than give up his letterman to keep him happy.

Still, it feels strange when she pulls it off her back. A shiver runs through her–she feels almost naked without its familiar weight. 

Since that first day in the library, it’s been her shield against Jason’s pushy advances, and her reminder that, no matter what happens, she’d still have Steve. 

But, Jason’s backed off, and everywhere she turns, she sees her people: Steve, yes, but Jeff, and Eddie, and the Hellfire boys–even Robin. Her life’s full to bursting in a way that it’s never been before. 

Chrissy will miss it, but she doesn’t need it anymore. Besides, she knows where Steve keeps his spare key, and she’s not above stealing something else from his closet. 

“Jeff’s going to be sad,” she says, patting the bundled fabric in her arms like it’s a favored family pet, feeling strangely choked up. “He really liked it.”

Eddie grimaces down at it and asks, “do I need to get this thing dry cleaned?”

Chrissy throws her head back and laughs. “No, but if you would’ve waited a few more days, you might have.”

He makes a gagging noise, but when she holds it out for him, he readily takes it, even if he doesn’t put it on. She wonders if it’s fear of homophobes or the thought of her and Jeff’s bodily fluids that stops him. She’s polite enough not to ask, even as Eddie says, “Wait, is it you wearing it or him that Jeff likes?”

She opens her mouth to reply, ready to offer up a vague “both,” but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts her off, talking quickly like he’s afraid of what she might say. “Wait, don’t tell me. I really, really don’t need to know.”

Chrissy springs to her feet and picks Eddie’s own leather jacket up off the floor and sliding it on. It’s even baggier than Steve’s was on her, clearly designed for layering. “I’m borrowing this,” she says, turning her back on him and making her way toward her next class just as the warning bell rings. “It’s cold today.”

“Don’t do any weird sex things with it!” Eddie calls.

She laughs again, making a point to neither confirm nor deny her intentions no matter what he yells after her retreating back.

When Jeff slides into her passenger seat after school, he quirks a brow at her new look, and asks, “that Eddie’s?” as he buckles his seatbelt.

“He wanted Steve’s,” she says, reaching out to pat his knee consolingly.

“I’m going to miss that jacket,” Jeff sighs, looking genuinely forlorn for a second before he gets a particular gleam in his eye that Chrissy’s becoming increasingly familiar with. “You know—”

“Eddie requested that we don’t ‘do any weird sex things’ with his jacket,” she cuts in, putting her car in reverse and slowly backing out of the spot.

Jeff groans like he’d been shot, and throws his head back into the headrest. She reaches out to dig her fingernails into his knee, just this side of too-hard so his groan shifts into a hiss.

“I know, baby,” she says, smiling sweetly at him as they pull away from the school. “But, I’ll get your mind off it in no time.”

Jeff gulps, and doesn’t utter another complaint for the rest of the night.

***

Robin watches Chrissy follow Eddie out of the cafeteria. Even after the door closes behind them, she keeps staring, wanting desperately to know what they’re talking about. This might have all started because of her crush on Chrissy, but Robin’s nosy at heart, so even as the flames of her crush burn down to embers, she wants to know.

Steve had called her on Saturday, spilling all the details of what sounded like a truly horrible date as if it was some sort of fairy tale while Robin cackled in his ear. But he’d sounded buoyant with exhilaration, and all Robin had been able to think about was that he’s like her and he’s happy.

Maybe there’s hope for her, too.

Robin’s broken out of her reverie by a shoulder bumping into hers. “Should we help him?” Vickie whispers, and it takes Robin a minute to snap her eyes away from her vibrant green eyes to follow her gaze over to Steve.

All the losers he’s still pretending to be friends are jeering at him, Tommy H. going so far as to slip into Chrissy’s vacant seat so he can jostle Steve around with a decidedly unfriendly look on his face while Steve picks halfheartedly at his lunch.

Robin’s out of her seat before she can even think about it, palms slapping noisily on the table as she calls. “Harrington!” Steve perks up, metaphorical tail wagging as he meets her eyes from across the room. “Come help me win a bet!”

He’s up and out of his seat in a matter of seconds, leaving the remains of his lunch abandoned on his table as he trots over, slipping into the empty seat across from her while all the other band kids look at him like he’s got the plague.

“What’s the bet?” he asks, looking far more relaxed already than he had while surrounded by his supposed friends.

Robin kicks him under the table as she replies, “the bet was whether you’d come when you’re called.”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he mocks, kicking her right back until she links both her feet around his ankle and yanks him so he damn near falls off his seat.

“Poor little puppy,” she coos, reaching across the table to pat his head while he bats her hand away.

Vickie’s laughing from beside her; it rings through Robin’s ears like church bells. She gets stuck, staring at the pink of her cheeks, the red of her hair, the mirth in her emerald green eyes, hand still outstretched toward Steve’s hair.

He kicks her again, and she snatches her hand back, grateful for the intervention until she catches sight of the knowing look Steve’s shooting her. In retaliation, she grabs one of her carrot sticks and tries to shove it down his throat.

“Not a word, Harrington, or we’re through,” she hisses, finally succeeding in shoving the carrot into his mouth.

“You guys are so funny,” Vickie says, still laughing.

Steve smiles, carrot sticking out of his mouth like it’s a cigar until he bites into it with a snap, seeming oddly satisfied.

Chrissy and Eddie don’t come back, and by the time lunch is over, the rest of the band kids have finally stopped sitting there like scared lemmings, waiting for King Steve Harrington to attack. She’s sure they’ll soon learn what Robin already knows: the king is dead, long live the king.

She loves him so much, it’s almost stupid.

“So, Steve Harrington, huh?” Vickie asks, inexplicably walking out of the cafeteria with her even though Robin knows for a fact her class is on the opposite side of the school.

“I mean, yeah?” Robin replies, feeling her face heat from the inside out. “He’s just like, not what I was thinking at all, and maybe the best friend I’ve ever had, which is crazy—it’s crazy, because it’s Steve Harrington, right?” Her hands, she realizes with horror, are miming an explosion above her head while her mouth makes a weird, crackling explosion sound. “Who would’ve guessed?”

When she finally gets her mouth flapping under control, Vickie’s smiling at her, walking close enough that the sleeve of her sweater brushes against Robin’s bare arm.

“I don’t know, I always thought he seemed nice.”

Robin’s nodding along like one of those bobble head hula girls that boys are always putting in their cars, even though Steve Harrington isn’t nice. He’s an unmitigated bitch with a sacrificial streak a mile wide, but he’s not nice.

“He’s like a stray that I let into my house one time, and then my mom fed him, so now he keeps following me home,” her mouth says.

Vickie’s mouth laughs in return, so maybe it’s not all that bad.

Robin’s mind replays the angelic sound as she walks into her class, waving goodbye to Vickie as the other girl rushes away in a mad dash to make it on time to her next class.

God, Steve’s going to be such a bitch about this.

 ***

After Eddie’s talk with Chrissy, things shift.

Steve doesn’t sit with the jocks at all anymore. He and Chrissy, still joined at the hip like they really are dating, shift back and forth between the band geeks and the hellfire tables at lunch on Tuesday, prompting hushed whispers to filter through the entire cafeteria.

For his part, all Gareth says is, “does this mean you two’s weird feud over Chrissy is finally over?”

Jeff snorts chocolate milk out of his nose while Eddie laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench entirely, only staying upright because Steve props him up.

“What?” Gareth demands, tearing into his chicken strips with a viciousness that betrays his ire.

“They’ll tell you when you’re older,” Doug replies despite having no idea himself.

Eddie loves his friends so fucking much.

By Wednesday, a clearly fed up Robin frog-marches the pair of them to the Hellfire table and plops down beside them.

“Munson, I can’t do this split custody thing anymore,” she says, making the red-head that’d followed her over giggle. “They’re too much of a handful.”

“Or maybe even two handfuls,” Steve replies, across the table at her like he’s not playing the most overt game of footsie right below it.

“Don’t be gross, dingus,” she scoffs, and Eddie’s mind goes galloping off with thoughts he shouldn’t be having in a room full of teenagers just waiting to push someone a few more rungs down the ladder.

“Are you guys coming back to Hellfire?” Gareth asks, clearly unable to stand not knowing what’s going on a second longer.

Steve looks at Eddie, brown eyes devastating beneath his lashes. “I’d like to.”

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to grovel at Steve’s feet to get him to come, to get him to keep looking at him like that, but then Robin cuts in with a sly, “you know this means you’ll have to come to Steve’s basketball games,” and he slams his mouth shut.

Steve grins, all seduction dropping off his face as he reaches across the table to give Robin a high five like they’re already on the fucking court. She slaps his palm hard enough that the sound of skin on skin damn-near shatters the sound barrier.

“We can sit together,” Jeff says, but he’s not even looking at Eddie, eyes trained on Chrissy’s blushing face. “It’ll be fun.”

Eddie groans and lets gravity overtake him, dropping his head to the table so suddenly that it would have hurt if Steve hadn’t put his palm over the spot just in time. Eddie turns his face so he can glare up at the other boy, but Steve looks so hopeful and excited that he has to look away again, burying his face into Steve’s palm.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he drawls, lips brushing against Steve’s hand with each word.

“What the hell is happening?” Gareth demands.

Much to his dismay, no one replies.

Things slide back to normal after that—Chrissy and Steve showing up to band practice and hellfire and lunch like nothing had ever come between them. But, it’s better now because Steve knocks their feet together beneath tables, and lets his hands settle on knees and stares just a little too long at Eddie’s lips.

It’s driving him crazy; he wants to reach out and touch, reach out and take.

But that’s not something that’s allowed. Boys are born in their own, invisible bubbles to keep them from touching other boys. Eddie doesn’t know how he never noticed it before, but he wants to shatter it like glass, let it cut up his feet if it means he can brush his lips against Steve’s.

There are all these rules left unwritten, but flung at their feet like slurs: don’t stand too close, don’t look too long, don’t dare to touch.

He wants to, though, thinks maybe in the confines of Gareth’s garage and behind the closed doors of the drama room he could, and it would be safe.

But they live in Hawkins, Indiana, and he’d like to live long enough to get the hell out of here.

So he lets their feet tangle beneath tables and doesn’t lean across them to have a taste, no matter how often Steve licks his lips.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

***

Robin’s been twitchy for days by the time she pulls Steve into their bathroom stall. He follows her dutifully, only laughing a little as she pulls a towel out of her backpack and lays it down before sitting on the floor.

“You plan this, Birdie?” he asks, settling across from her, the towel beneath them insulating him from the cold that’s seeping up from the floor.

Robin’s face turns a blotchy red like a blood vessel burst and dispersed beneath her skin. “Boobies,” she blurts, staring at him with beseeching eyes before she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Steve nods, his attempt at sage wisdom undercut by the way he has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her. “Boobies, yes,” he chokes out. “I’ve, uh, heard of them.”

That’s all it takes for Robin to kick out at him. When her foot gets dangerously close to his crotch, Steve grabs her ankle and cradles her foot in his lap, rubbing the bone.

“Don’t make fun of me!” she whines, still trying to kick him.

“Okay, okay!” he cries out, chuckling as he holds onto her leg for dear life. “Sorry, just—what’s this about boobies?”

“Stop saying boobies!”

Steve uses his free hand to lock up his mouth and toss the invisible key into the toilet, smiling as the blush on Robin’s cheeks creeps up her nose and onto her forehead until she resembles an especially square tomato.

“Vickie—”

And Steve can’t help it, he really, really can’t. “Has nice boobies?” he cuts in, already grabbing at both her legs to stop her jackrabbiting feet from finally landing a blow to his balls.

“I hate you!” Robin shrieks, but even she’s laughing now as she writhes atop the towel, scrunching it as she earth-worm-inches closer to him so she can slap at his ribs while he’s defenseless. “Steve Harrington, you’re the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

She tries to say it with conviction, but Steve’s hands have crept beneath her crew socks, and his fingers are tickling against the inside arch of her foot, so her words come out more as shaky exhalations of laughter. He wiggles his fingers as she squirms away, kicking out with such reckless abandon that one of her feet breaks free and kicks him far too high on his inner thigh for comfort.

“Get your boy cooties off me!” she demands, and he does, pulling his hands out of her socks as she backs away until she’s leaning against the opposite side of the wall again, pouting at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, feeling lighter than air. “Now tell me about Vickie’s girl cooties.”

Robin smiles bashfully, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. “Vickie doesn’t have cooties,” Robin replies, gaze distant. She looks wistful, enamored, hopeful. “She walked me to class the other day, even though I know it made her late.”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts, helpless to do anything but to smile back.

“Yeah,” she replies. “And maybe it’ll be like Chrissy again, you know? But you and Eddie…” Robin kicks out at him again, nudging her foot into his and then leaving it there, their soles pressed together. “Maybe there’s more of us out there than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, absolutely in love with brave, hopeful, honest Robin, here in this stall, in this moment. “Maybe there are.”

They smile at each other, two queer kids in the bathroom together, seeing themselves in each other, again, and again, and again. Steve hopes they’ll always be like this, here, on the bathroom floor, finding hope in each other’s smiles. He has Chrissy, and Jeff, and Eddie now, too. But, Robin will always be the first person who looked at him and made him feel seen.

“We should get married,” he says, not thinking about it before it comes out of his mouth and hangs in the air between them, making Robin’s eyes bug out of her skull. “Just think about it! Eddie and I can’t get married, and neither can you and Vickie—”

“You’ve literally gone out with the guy once, and we don’t even know if Vickie likes girls yet—”

“—but we could totally just marry each other instead!”

The silence of the bathroom rings once Steve’s declaration is out there. Robin swallows, throat bobbing, eyes wide enough that Steve can see the little red veins near the back. Suddenly, Steve wonders if he’s stepped over some line he didn’t even know was there.

Before he can spiral too far, Robin launches herself across the space between them, knees bracketing Steve’s hips as she leans over and bites his shoulder, hard.

“Ow, Robin!”

“You’re insane, Dingus, you know that?” she asks, moving away from his shoulder to plant a kind of wet kiss against his forehead. “I’m sixteen, and you’re proposing in the boy’s bathroom.”

She rubs her hand against his head, likely fucking his hair up beyond repair, but he doesn’t even care because she kisses him again, this time on the top of his head.

“I meant like, later?” Steve says shyly.

He’s always fallen hard and fast, knows that about himself. It’s a fundamental law of the universe: gravity makes things fall down, the earth’s always spinning on an axis, and Steve Harrington puts his whole heart into people who don’t always give it back.

But Robin’s on his lap, kissing his head, and leaking what’s either snot or tears into his hair. “Alright,” she warbles, sounding embarrassingly soggy. “When I get a girlfriend, we can just be permanent beards for each other.”

Steve puts his arms around her and hugs her tight, mashing his face awkwardly into her neck as she laughs. “Grow old in separate bedrooms,” he replies.

“Gotta keep our cooties separate,” she says, like she’s not currently dripping on him on the floor of the boy’s grimy bathroom.

He just squeezes her tighter and gives her a little shake, like a dog with its favorite toy. “Tell me about Vickie,” he demands, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you when it comes from his mouth.

“Okay,” she replies, and it sounds a lot like I love you, too.

[v1x3n]

SNAP! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff, angst - panic attack, trauma, flinching.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

There's a sudden knock on the door to your room, your body dry and freshly washed, the minty smell from the soap bar fills your nostrils whilst you slump on the hospital bed. Curled in a way that was uncomfortable but it wasn't hurting any wounds so that would have to do.

The knock is followed by the door opening wide, revealing a man who you recognise, a man named Logan. The cheery fellow bounces into the room, suddenly the dingy lights seem brighter. "how's my favourite girl?" the man smiles while trotting inside, then closing the door behind him. "The nurse told me t' not bother ya sooo here I am!" he announces, smirking when you peer up at him. Your permanent frown slightly moves upwards when you see the goofy yet devious grin on his face.

Without a reply he sits down on the wooden chair placed by your bed, "you're looking better! my wounds are barely healing!" you wonder what had happened to him for a moment but then you remember that one of the first times he snook into your room, he rambled on for almost an hour. Telling you that he had been shot whilst on a mission, twice in the stomach. Luckily he survived. He smiles as he stretches out his hand, groaning, "I'm glad you're okay," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A sigh falls from his lips when you sit up, "saw some big beefy guy leave your room before," john, he's obviously talking about john. "Looked real pissed off." Logan mumbles under his breath when he looks to the side. Fucking twat, he was pissed off? He doesn't deserve to be pissed off. "Ya know him?" He looks towards you for an answer. But you two both knew you weren't going to verbally say anything. You nodded hesitantly.

"Ya friends?" the man questions, this time it wasn't so hesitant. "No." You firmly said. Logan thought this was the first time you had spoken to him, it clearly must've been a trigger or something, "he is NOT my friend." Reaffirming your statement, pure rage boils through you at even thinking about being his friend. He lost that fucking privilege. "huh."

There's a silence that lingers in the air. The wet droplets from your freshly washed hair drips down, sending shivers down through your body. "Well, at least you have people visiting. My family is too busy t' visit. Or they just divnt wanna." he mutters the last part, "id kill for anyone t' visit."

"You know you get a lot of people lining outa your door? I can barely get through mine cause these bulky men will always be there." What? You questioned internally. "Ya friends with them?" you probably knew who he was talking about, it was probably the other knobheads that harmed you. None of them had really spoken to you since you arrived, john would sit down on the chair that Logan was currently sitting on sometimes, you two wouldnt talk though. Youd rather kill yourself than utter a single word to him.

"none of them are my friends, " gruffly talking again. Your throat kinda hurt so the sounds came out raspier than you had wanted them to. "hmm! Anywho! You wanna play some cards with me? I knowww.... Snap?" Then he puts on a dumb little smile.

After rolling your eyes at him, you nod. Magically he pulls out a card deck. Placing them on the blanket covering you. Once splitting the deck into two and passes you a half. Logan puts a card down gently on the blanket, not wanting to put it down too hard and hurt you. He didn't quite know what had happened to you but by the looks of it it was bad. You had nurses in all the time, your body was wrapped in bandages and by the looks of it, you only had 8 fingers.

"6 of clubs!" he announces. You place down a random card, 4 of hearts.

After a few rounds, you had won. For him having a deck of cards and wanting to play snap, he wasn't that good at it. A small smirk rises on your face, looking down at your massive stack whilst he had no cards left. "Well, well done." He grumbles with a mocking pout.

Once nodding you give him half your cards and he whacks them across the bed. Scattering the cards around, you gasp. Laughing, he observes the stunned look on your face before you shuffle the cards and half them. Dividing them into two halves, again making sure you both have a half each.

The word snap was yelled out from Logan's lips as he finally got ahead of you and slammed his callosed hand downwards onto the 2 of diamonds. When you flinch, he felt the weight of his face drop. "fuck, I'm sorry-" the look on your face could only be described as panicked, scared and fearful.

Suddenly a loud ringing blinds your ears. Your breathing grows. You take sharp and quick breaths when he looks towards you. You don't know why you panicked so much over something so stupid but then again - you do. "oh god I'm sorry!"

Logan's heart sank as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He quickly slid closer, his voice gentle, "Hey- fuck- it's okay. I'm right here." He hesitated, unsure whether to reach out physically, but instead whispered, "Just breathe with me, nice and slow," trying to guide you back to calmness. But unfortunately that didn't help. You flinch back once more and shuffle under the blanket. The sounds of the room grew louder, the beeping of the machines sound over Logan's - trying to be - comforting voice. Your breath caught up once more. Your breathing is loud and fast. "it's okay-"

He gets cut off when a nurse comes into the room. She quickly rushes to you and all you see is almost a blur when your eyes prick with water. Distant yelling and you see the obscured bodies rush into the room, the nurse beside you and mumbling nonsense as the blob you think is Logan leaves. 

[angevinyaoiz]

Was compelled by these tags but I wanted to put my personal analysis here! Trying to keep it strictly based on the events of the movie and not on pure speculation or external historical stuff, bc I think they do a LOT of interesting things in this short scene and what it implies about the Richard and Philip and Henry (and Louis) relationship dynamics.

I think because this happened right after his back and forth with Henry where Philip felt like he was getting somewhere until Henry did his whole smug ass "Haha I win I squeezed all the information out of you ;D goodnight!" It made him jump out of his more calculated "facts and logic" mode and into a more deeper sense of his burning resentment and inferiority complex, hence the whole "you made my father nothing...and then you made him love you for it" speech. Love is kind of established as a sign of weakness and submission, even if in this case it's not in a romantic context. Louis is a "loving man" who (in the world of TLIW) gets taken advantage of by Pushy men like Henry and Philip is frustrated with that weakness. And so when Henry smugly reveals he was just probing Philip for info, Philip feels like he is "losing" and being demeaned again and so decides to pull out his secret weapon.....His Super Special Scandalous Information jfjdif to throw more fuel on the fire.

Course the main thing is Henry isn't even that scandalized like you said ("Richard finds his way into so many legends, let's hear yours" and in the play after the telling he's just like "I've heard better" lmfao...3 out of 5 stars. Also let's not forget he's also a boydiddler too from his speech to Alais in the opening scene. The royal corkscrew is NOT easily shocked!!). Philip is playing an interesting paradox where he's basically framing Richard as the Older Predatory type taking advantage of him, but also Richard is simultaneously Pathetic and weak at the same time for caring so much about not just sex presumably but wanting to be loved and desired. Philip also casts himself as the Victim in this scenario, as the younger, innocent and un-desiring party, but also positions himself as being the strong-willed clear-headed one where it's like "yes I succumbed ...but NOT because I was too Weak to Resist or out of Fear but because it was my Genius Long Game Plan All Along."

Why does he do this??? I would say like earlier, it was kind of his last card to play in their battle of wills, and allowed him to feel like he had a one-up on Henry after Henry had been smugly putting him down the whole day. I feel the purpose of this is similar to Eleanor's outburst about fucking Henry's father later in the film. Where it really doesn't do anything helpful for her, since he just leaves to do his thing. but in the moment is an emotional weapon that she knows will hurt him. Also there's something fun and cathartic about both Philip and Eleanor's outbursts where after a long day of conniving they really relish in talking about Being Bad in a more straightforward way. For Philip it does end up being helpful in that it sets the ball rolling to reveal all the sonbetrayals in the room and gets the feelings all heightened and sows distrust amongst the family.

Also, to get a bit more speculative, but still basing strictly off what is in the earlier scenes: in the end we don't know the truth of what happened between him and Richard in the forest during the event that he recounted, or what his true feelings are. I personally feel what is implied from his earlier interactions with Richard is that there was a sincere emotional connection, and that they did both miss each other during their time apart. There's implied also a little frustration on Philip's part over Richard not keeping contact and maintaining their friendship after the marriage. But also I sort of interpret it as he wanted to reframe the story in his mind as well, maybe to himself, in a way where he comes out of it feeling like he had control over the situation, especially if their encounters were really as dubiously consensual as he implies it as being. If he did love Richard at some point, that would mean he was the one being "weak" like his father, and so to be strong and be a man and respected ruler ("No man's boy" as he keeps Insisting Very Hard in public the whole movie), he can't afford to indulge in affection the same way. The sexual element just adds another layer that, viewing both from the medieval and 1960s homophobia POV, is already assumed to be deviant and something to distance one's self from. If having the affair with Richard was only A Genius Plan to Sabotage Henry all along, with only Disgust and No Real Feelings of Affection Ever, then he can manage to wiggle out of being implicated or having any responsibility for Sodomybehaviors while pinning all the shame onto Richard (and by extension, Henry.)

So the motivation I can see as being a mix of being mad at the history of Henry overpowering his father and belittling him, being conflicted with Richard for either 1) taking advantage of him back then or 2) having had maybe for real a pleasant affair but getting ghosted 3) most likely a mix of the two. Whatever the case, his main goal was to destabilize Henry and it fit into that goal, so he just poured some extra oil on the fire I guess XD

*in some ways, it's a very 60s homophobia more than a medieval kind, since I feel in early and medieval era there's nothing that would feel off about intense emotional, borderline romantic love between men if expressed in specific socially approved venues. but in modern times even emotional affection is an expression of weakness and timidity, or if a sign of a separate lesser identity being revealed, as how it is portrayed in this movie. The sexual element as deviant is important to the luridity but the part Philip emphasizes as particularly shameful is the vulnerability of asking for love from a man and wanting it returned.

a king like you has policy prepared on everything. well, what’s the official line on sodomy? how stands the crown on boys who do with boys?

THE LION IN WINTER 1968 | dir. anthony harvey

[sluttyminghao]

svt + THEM crying over/during sex from pleasure 😵‍💫?

seungcheol: it wouldn't happen often, but when it does, he'd fall into a submissive state that takes him hours to come out of, and it's probably like an emotional release too because he feels so good

jeonghan: he probably cried once and it was due to a hectic and stressful schedule, and you giving him the best head of his life just sent him right over the edge. would bribe u not to say anything about it

joshua: he would try so hard to hide his tears as you ride him, but can't help but let out a full sob when you grind against him as he feels the pleasure overwhelm him. he'd feel so weird afterwards and would just return the favour willingly.

junhui: you just felt so good with your legs wrapped around his waist while he's fucking you deeply, the pleasure just takes over and soon he's sobbing into your neck while he cums and shudders against you

soonyoung: honestly he's probably quiet about it and you wouldn't even notice, except for his teary eyes and quivering lips. he was just so overwhelmed with the handjob you gave him it brought him to literal tears

wonwoo: he'd probably only cry from overstimulation, so when you finally get him over his fourth orgasm, he has tears streaming down his face and he looks hotter than ever, but you know he's going to get you back

jihoon: honestly I don't think he'd ever cry except when he's super stressed. when you go to visit him at the studio and he's stressed af, he takes it out on your body and just sobs with pleasure afterwards

seokmin: if he didn't cry when having sex then there would be a problem tbh, this man is so sensitive (both physically and mentally) that anytime he cums he immediately sobs. it's kinda cute tho

mingyu: he'd sob after one too many orgasms, especially in missionary where he can see your face as he cums. he doesn't hold himself back either, he's going to cry and overstimulate himself until he can't take anymore

minghao: if he's going to cry, it will be over a very intimate moment. something about how you look while you're orgasming, your nails digging into his skin, has him feeling overwhelmed and crashing into his own orgasm, tears filling his eyes.

seungkwan: I think seungkwan is also a sensitive soul, and would cry almost every time you guys had sex. it would be even more so if you were giving him a blowjob (not for any particular reason, just that he thinks you're a blowjob god)

vernon: this man is so stoic you wouldn't even realize he's crying until you hear sniffles. reverse cowgirl is perfect for him to get overstimulated and cry from the pleasure so that you don't see him sobbing

chan: this dude...would be 50/50 in terms fo crying. he's sensitive but not to the point where he'd cry every time. i think he would cry over overstimulation, but would also cry if there's a particularly intimate moment you both shared as well.

[sturniozo]

listen, i’m a WHORE for face riding🙏 so like could you possibly make something where like ur riding (matt or chris)’s face🙏 that’s it!! go wild!

Tastes So Sweet

(Chris Sturniolo x Reader Smut)

“Ow, ow!” I pull back. “Chris that hurt.”

“Sorry babe.” Chris smiles sheepishly and runs his hand through his hair. “I got a little carried away.”

My fingers graze over my neck, where Chris had left a bite mark. “I have work in the morning, I can’t go in with a hickey.”

Chris shrugs. “So what, like you haven’t before.”

I narrow my eyes at Chris. “If I get caught like that again at work, it’s a write up.”

Chris scoffs and leans back against the headboard. “I hope you get fired. You don’t need to be working that dead end waitress job. I can support us.”

I roll my eyes before curling up to Chris’s side. He wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “I can leave a lot of marks on you, you know.” He smirks as he looks down at me.

I look up to meet his gaze. “I know you can, but I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Chris groans. “Why? So that loser, Korey, can hit on you all day without realizing you have a boyfriend?”

“Korey knows I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, but you admit he hits on you all day.” Chris says in a cocky tone.

I sigh. “He doesn’t. And he’s my superior, he’s the one who would write me up for that.”

Chris closes his eyes and shakes his head, leaning his head back against the headboard. “I hate that guy.” He mumbles.

“You don’t have to deal with him all day.” I giggle as I lean my head in Chris’s chest.

“I have to deal with him hitting on you all day every day.”

I sigh. “Can we just drop this?”

Chris shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.”

I snuggle closer into his chest. He huffs and moves his arm down my waist. “As much as i want to stay here forever and just cuddle with you all day-“

Chris cuts me off. “I don’t want to just cuddle, if you know what i mean.” He says with a chuckle.

I smack his chest. “As I was saying, I can’t. I have to go to work, I can’t get fired.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times.” Chris situates himself better to sit up straight as I sit up next to him, my arm still around him although he had removed his arm from my waist. “I can support us both and more, you don’t need that job.”

I sigh. “Chris, you know I’d feel guilty if i let you just pay for everything. I need a job, at least part time, so I don’t feel so useless all the time.”

“Hey.” Chris cups my face in his hands. “You are not useless.” He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t mind you having a job either, I get it. I just hate you having that job.” He leans back against the headboard.

“I don’t want to fight right now.” I mumble.

“We aren’t going to fight.” Chris wraps his arm around me and pulls me in close to him. He kisses the top of my head and rubs my arm gently.

I close my eyes and nuzzle my head against Chris’s chest. “I love you.” I murmur into his chest.

Chris smiles into my hair. “I love you too.”

I breathe in this moment and smile. This perfect moment with my perfect boyfriend. I love moments like these. Moments where everything else just fades away. Everything like the almost-argument we could have had just fades away. Gone.

“Hey,” Chris murmurs against the top of my head. “You should call in.”

I groan. “Not this again-“

“No, no, no-“ He kisses my head again. “I was thinking of you calling in because you won’t be able to walk through the front door.”

I lift my head and face Chris’s smirk. “Are you being serious?” I ask.

Chris nods. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to get up to go to work.”

I laugh. “Okay.” I sit up straight and straddle his waist. “But I have a challenge for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris says as his eyes flicker up and down my body. “And what is it?”

“You have to fuck me until I can’t walk.” I lean in close, my lips ghosting over his. “But only using your tongue.”

Chris let’s put a hot, breathy laugh. “You’re in for it then.” He says before smashing his lips against mine.

I slip my hands under his shirt and begin to roam his torso, my fingers touching his skin lightly. I pull away from the kiss to slip my shirt off over my head. I toss it across the room, and before it hits the ground Chris’s hands cup my breasts.

I smash my lips back against his and grind my hips on him. One hand tangles into his hair while the other finds its way back under his shirt, feeling up his torso once again.

Chris takes off his shirt and tosses it by mine. His hands find my back as in one swift movement, he moves us so I’m on my back, my head at the foot of the bed, and his head is between my legs. He slips off my panties from under my skirt and throws them on the floor. He moves my legs over his shoulders as his head dips under my skirt and begins to lick my core.

The movements of his tongue are swift and soft. Something I’ve felt from him a million times before.

“Just your tongue baby, nothing else.” I remind him.

Chris only grunts in response as I recognize a familiar feeling. Him licking his name into my pussy.

C. A jolt slides through my body at the curve.

H. The slide across my hole sends shudders down my spine.

R. He took his sweet time with this one.

I. That line. That straight line. I buck my hips into his lips causing him to chuckle and push my hips back down.

S. The curving zig zag causes me to moan out loudly.

T. The top stride pressing my clit and making me moan out louder.

O. A perfect circle around my hole.

P. I won’t last to the end. I start panting and gripping the sheets.

H. Again, the line sliding right over my hole. Just go in my already!

E. I just couldn’t last. My legs start shaking and my hips start gyrating. I won’t make it until-

R. The loop wrapping around my hole and his tongue sliding over my clit one last time before I scream out, cumming on his tongue.

“Oh god!” I scream out.

Chris raises his head from under my skirt. “I’m not done.” He says breathlessly.

Chris throws the pillow across the room and lays down on the bed, motioning me to sit on his face.

“Chris-“

“Sit on my face right now.” He says.

A blush creeps over my cheeks and I oblige. I get to my knees and crawl over to him. I turn around, positioning myself above his face. I move my skirt to cover his head completely.

His hands hold my hips down, pressing my core right against his lips. His tongue slips up and down, rolling over my clit over and over in quick movements. His tongue dips into my hole, rolling like a wave inside of me. All while his bottom lip rubs over my clit.

“Chris!” I call out.

The familiar knot in my stomach unravels once again. Chris slurps up my juices as I ride out my high, while also riding his face. Chris doesn’t stop. He continues with his relentless railing of his tongue in my core.

Strides licking up and down, zig zagging left and right, flicking my clit at the end. The same movement over and over, done a second after it started. The feeling is unreal.

Another knot in my stomach. Another shaking sensation throughout my whole body. I release again on his lips.

“Chris, no more-“ I pant out as he continues. “Chris, I can’t-“

“Just one more baby.” He says breathlessly under me. “You can do it for me.”

Chris’s tongue rolls over my clit like a tidal wave. Over and over, tickling my nerves in the best possible way. It’s not even a minute before I release one last time.

“Chris!” I yell out. My entire body shakes and gives out, as I collapse to the side of Chris.

He sits up, positioning me in a more comfortable place, before laying next to me and wrapping his arms around me.

“Are you okay?” He mumbles as he kisses my forehead.

I nod in response, to out of breath to speak. Chris smiles and lets out a breath of relief.

“Are you gonna call into work?” He asks.

I nod again, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Good.” Chris smiles and kissing my forehead again. “God. You taste so sweet.”

TAGLIST:

@bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl1 @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chriss @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[mmhtastywhump]

One Shot/Outer Banks/Whumpee JJ Maybank/Caretaker John B

The sun was glistening on the snow outside, making the day bright despite the freezing winter cold. A few birds were picking at the mantle in search of food, here and there a few flowers pocked their heads up through the snow.

Inside, the Pogues were preparing the Chateau for Christmas. A playlist of upbeat indie rock was playing in the background. Kiara and Pope were dragging a long garland of Christmas lights across the living room, discussing where to attach it first. JJ and John B, in the meantime, were in the kitchen preparing drinks.

„You know, I‘ve always hated Christmas“, JJ said while rummaging in the kitchen counter for a couple of clean glasses. Christmas was a day for happy families. For everyone else, it was a testament of how fucked up their home lives were, really rubbing it in. Ever since he was little, JJ had always tried his best to have at least a colloquial Christmas with his dad. Trying not to upset him, trying to keep the mood in the house stable. It had always failed and left him disappointed, knowing that other families somehow made it work. Yet, JJ always fucked it up. JJ would always be a Maybank.

„I know, Jayj, but this year, it‘ll be different. Just us here, all together“, John B looked at JJ with determination in his voice, „it will be fun“

JJ scoffed. „My old man probably won‘t even notice I‘m not there, all passed out and stinking of booze“

John B thought for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was missing his dad, too. Big John had been gone for more than a few months already, and it was becoming more and more unlikely for him to suddenly show back up. John B‘s throat clogged up at the memory of his father.

„Shit, John B, I‘m sorry“, JJ started, realizing his mistake, „I didn‘t mean to-“

The glass simply slipped out of JJ‘s fingers. It shattered on the wooden floor.

As the crack of the glass reveberated in JJ‘s ears, time seemed to freeze. His heart was hammering in his chest, a feeling of nausea overwhelming him. He felt a sudden stabbing pain in his forehead. Reacting on pure instinct, he fell to the floor and started to gather the shards in his hands as quickly as he could. Almost instantly, he cut himself.

John B turned around just to see the scene play out in slow-motion. He found his voice in a rush, „No worries, JJ, I‘ll get the-...JJ?“

But JJ didn‘t hear. Instead, his ears were thrumming with the memory of his dad‘s deafening shouts as he stumbled towards him, ready to take a swing at his clumsy child, for breaking things, for being noisy, for being-

John B rushed over, dropping to his knees beside JJ. "Hey, you okay?" he said, gently pulling JJ's trembling hands away from the broken glass. Blood mixed with the shards of glass on the floor, but JJ barely noticed, too focused on the mental video playing in front of his inner eye.

He tried to swallow, clumsily picking at the shards and gathering them in his bleeding hand. „I‘m sorry, I didn‘t mean to-“ His head was ducked between his shoulders as if expecting a hit. It was as if his mind had left the Chateau and had instead ended up somewhere else entirely.

„Hey, JJ“, John B started, concern lacing his voice, „it‘s just me, we‘re in the Chateau, you‘re safe“

Tears began to sting in JJ‘s eyes, yet he wouldn‘t let them spill. He stilled. It took him a long moment to answer. „John B?“, his voice was hoarse.

John B’s eyes softened. "It’s okay, man. We’ll clean it up. You’re okay."

John B gently placed his hands over JJ’s, stopping him from reaching for the glass shards. He could feel JJ’s pulse racing beneath his fingertips, tremors shaking his hands.

"JJ," John B said quietly, his voice steady, "Listen to me. You’re not back there. You’re here, with us. In the Chateau. You’re safe."

It took a few moments for JJ to even register the words, his mind still tangled in the echoes of the past. When he looked up, his hazy gaze was met by green eyes.

John B held his gaze, offering him a small but genuine smile, before grabbing a towel and gathering the broken shards from JJ‘s hands carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You deserve a Christmas without this crap. Just us, alright?”

JJ nodded, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just allowed himself a moment to breathe, to feel the warmth of the Chateau. It was just him and his people here. He was safe.

John B helped him to his feet, leading him toward the sink. "Kiara and Pope are probably wondering why we’re not helping. You know Kiara—she’s going to want to do everything perfectly." He tried to lighten the mood, and it worked, just a little.

JJ let out a small laugh, the sound soft and bittersweet. “Yeah, I can just imagine her yelling at Pope for putting the garland on crooked.”

“Exactly,” John B chuckled, “Now let’s go make sure Kiara doesn’t string up the whole place with tinsel. We’re definitely going to need more eggnog for that.”

They walked back into the living room, where Pope and Kiara were in the middle of decorating. The festive chaos of Christmas was in full swing, and even though things weren’t perfect, in that moment, with his friends around him, JJ knew it was as good as Christmas could ever gonna get.

i will never ever get tired of this trope 🙏