#but we actually REALLY hung out for the first time and they did a lot of weird shit

[cyraclove]

14 🤲🥺

14. A kiss to the stomach

Chrissy stands at the bathroom counter as she opens a cheerfully purple box marked Ovulation Predictor Test. She chews her lip as she unfolds the creased instruction page to peer at the tiny print.

A pamphlet from her obstetrician that reads ‘How easy is it to plan a winter baby?’ lays near the sink, a squishy infant with a fleece hat shooting her a gummy grin from the center of the page.

Sighing, Chrissy runs a hand through her hair.

When she and Eddie had decided to stop using birth control, she hadn’t been prepared for trying to get pregnant being as complicated as advanced calculus.

And she’d been really bad at calculus.

Before her annual earlier that month, she hadn’t known that things like ovulation tests existed. Naively, she’d thought that she and Eddie would just… have sex and make a baby.

Turns out it’s a lot more involved than that.

“Alrighty, looks like we’re just doing the pap today,” Dr. Whitman had said at Chrissy’s last appointment. “Give me one minute to put your vitals in the system here and then we’ll go ahead and get started.”

“Oh, take your time,” Chrissy had replied politely.

She’d glanced down at her socked feet as they hung off the side of the exam bed, absently twisting the hem of the thin, blue gown she was wearing.

Her pulse fluttered against her throat when she’d looked up at the framed poster on the wall in front of her titled Pregnancy & Birth.

The thought of a life growing inside of her—a fragile combination of chromosomes with ten tiny fingers and two little eyes—was as wonderful as it was terrifying.

“Um, actually,” Chrissy had started with an odd sort of trembly joy in her chest. “We’ve—I mean, my husband and I—we’ve decided to start trying for a baby. That’s, um, probably something I should’ve mentioned before.”

“Oh, that’s great news! Congratulations,” Dr. Whitman had said with a wide smile. “How exciting.”

“Yeah, we’re excited.”

“Have you already stopped using contraception?”

“Yes, maybe… around three weeks ago? I was using a diaphragm.”

“And you’ve had intercourse since?”

Chrissy’s cheeks had gone hot. This is your doctor, she reminded herself. That’s a normal question to ask.

“Yes.”

She’d fidgeted on the exam bed, paper crinkling beneath her as she tried not to think about the last time she and Eddie had had sex.

About the deliciously filthy things he’d whispered in her ear while he’d fucked her from behind, his hand at the back of her neck.

That hadn’t seemed like an appropriate thing to think about in a doctor’s office. It sent a tingly little shiver up her spine, anyway.

“You said the first day of your last period was the eleventh?”

Chrissy had cleared her throat.

“That’s right.”

Dr. Whitman nodded as she’d clacked on her keyboard. Turning back to Chrissy, she clasped her hands together.

“Well, Chrissy. Let’s go ahead and do some bloodwork while you’re here. There’s a chance that you may already be pregnant.”

Chrissy’s heart had flown into her throat.

“Really?”

“It’s certainly possible. Might as well go ahead and check, right?”

Twenty torturously long minutes later, Dr. Whitman had come back into the room with a look on her face that told Chrissy all she needed to know.

“Don’t worry. No two couples are the same,” Dr. Whitman assured her. “Just because you haven’t conceived yet doesn’t mean you won’t.”

Chrissy had driven home with a new hollowness in her heart, a melancholic longing for something she hadn’t even known she wanted.

“What’s the verdict, sweetness? Are we procreating today?”

Chrissy startles, the husky warmth of a familiar voice pulling her back to the present.

She looks up to see Eddie leaning against the doorframe, his mouth twisted into that impishly handsome grin of his. Her stomach flutters a bit, just like it had the first time she’d seen it.

"Eddie. You scared me," Chrissy chides halfheartedly. "And did you just use the word procreate?"

“Yeah, baby, you and me," Eddie says, stepping toward Chrissy to twine his arms around her waist. "We’re repopulating the planet, remember?”

Splaying her hands over Eddie's chest, Chrissy absentmindedly hooks a finger into the silver chain dangling from his neck as she looks up at him.

“How about we start with one?”

Eddie knits his brow in mock contemplation.

“I can agree to those terms, I guess. Just remember that we’re humanity’s last hope.”

Pushing herself up onto her toes, Chrissy presses her lips to Eddie's. He hums softly against her mouth as his grip on her waist tightens.

"What'd your test say, huh?" he asks eagerly, gravelly and low. "We got the green light to go ahead and get started?"

“Ugh,” Chrissy groans, pulling away with a frustrated sigh. “Eddie, this is just so weird.”

Eddie blinks.

"I’m sorry, Chris," he says sincerely, "I was really just kidding, sweetheart. Shit, I didn’t mean t—“

“No, not that,” Chrissy clarifies, softening a bit. “Just… this. The calendars and the tests. Scheduling sex. It feels very… clinical. Mechanical.”

With a knowing nod, Eddie rests his forehead against hers before pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get where you’re coming from," he agrees. "Like a science experiment, or something."

“Yes. It’s not very romantic. And it doesn’t..." Chrissy trails off in a small voice, shrinking away from Eddie's gaze.

"Doesn't what, baby?"

"It doesn't make me feel very sexy," Chrissy replies, whispering the word sexy like it's a secret she's not meant to be telling.

She lets out a little yelp of surprise when Eddie turns her towards the bathroom mirror, planting his chin on her shoulder as he hugs her from behind.

“I'm sorry, have you seen you? You melt my face off. Like those Nazi guys in that one Indiana Jones movie.”

Wrinkling her nose, Chrissy bites back a laugh.

“Eddie, gross.”

“Seriously, though. I hear you," Eddie tells her, meeting her eye in the mirror. "I get it. I wanna do… whatever you need me to do to keep it fun. ‘Cause we have fun, right?”

“We do,” Chrissy agrees, suddenly bashful. “A lot of fun.”

“Yeah, we do, sweetheart. We can still have fun even though we’re trying to make a lil’ munchkin.”

Those words out of Eddie's mouth make Chrissy's heart go wobbly, her knees a little weaker than before. Even still, she can't seem to shake the uneasy weirdness of the whole situation.

“I know, I just feel like a… I don’t know," she sighs. "I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like we’re just baby-making machines or something.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes darken as they fall to the cut of Chrissy's blouse, a look of wolfish want on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Christine Elizabeth," Eddie starts, clearing his throat. "Light of my life. Apple of my eye. I hate to have to tell you this, but that’s so hot.”

Chrissy all but whips her head around as she cranes her neck to look back at Eddie.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. That just made this whole thing a lot sexier.”

“I don't even... How?”

Eddie's fingers are in the belt loops of Chrissy's jeans then, turning her in his arms to face her before he sinks to his knees. Kneeling at her feet, his hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt.

Squirming, Chrissy threads her fingers through Eddie's mess of dark curls. Her breath hitches when his lips ghost along the swell of her stomach, leaving a tickly kiss just below her navel.

“Christ, just… thinking about knocking you up drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Chrissy's cheeks burn hot, stomach swooping.

"You're serious?"

"Oh, baby," Eddie groans, dragging his thumbnail along the teeth of Chrissy's zipper. "You have no idea."

"So, you... you don't mind that it's taking longer than we thought it would? What if it takes forever?"

Eddie tips his head to look up at Chrissy with his wide, whiskey-warm eyes. When he smiles, there's something wild in it that crackles up the length of Chrissy's spine.

"Guess we won't know if we don't try."

KISS ROULETTE!

[l1v1ngd3dgrrl]

Bestie pls hear me out 😩😩 your work on ao3 is mind blowing AMAZING! If you are taking requests can you write like a Daisuke/reader fic where they’ve been trying to sleep together (secret relationship type deal) but they’ve been getting cockblocked by every member of the crew until they finally get time of their own with pent up feelings

AN: I audibly gasped when i read this request, anon your miiiiiind. Fuck yeah let's do it! Also thank you for enjoying my work aaaaaaaaa, it makes me so giddy when i get comments like that! thank you for your patience <3

Alone Together [Daisuke x Reader]

word count: 2,503

Cw(s):getting cockblocked/sexual tension, Daisuke gets a little rough here and doesn't pull out, usage of babe/my girl, soft dom Daisuke(?), Shitty attempt at dirty talk again because ya ghoul cannot write it well at all. Leg locking?

Continuing my contributions to the Freaksuke agenda <- that is a joke, please don't get mad at me. I may have gotten a lil too carried away with this one (sweats)

MDNI banner: Cafekitsune.

Having a secret relationship wasn't something you ever imagined yourself doing. Especially with one of your co-workers. You've worked at Pony Express for about 3 years now, and never really found yourself drooling over anyone in your crew. (Okay there was that ONE time you thought Curly was really hot but that's over and done with.) It was unprofessional and would make things awkward.

That sentiment flew out of the window when you met the newest member joining you for this Haul, Daisuke was the new 22 year old intern working with Swansea. Unsurprisingly Swansea made it very clear from day one that he wasn't thrilled with it, which did affect him negatively causing him to be pretty shy when talking with the rest of the crew. Over time he warmed up to everyone, eagerness similar to a a cartoon protagonist at times but in the most endearing way.

Now this little (at the time) one-sided crush didn't happen all at once, It was about a month into your haul when you noticed that you'd get butterflies in your stomach whenever you heard him talk, laugh or do literally anything. He could breathe and you would just stare at him like he hung the moon. It was an interesting display on your part, hopefully he didn't catch you staring and think you were weird.

By the third month he let it slip that he thought you were attractive. The exact way he confessed it was a little hard to remember but it was in the dorkiest way possible-lots of fumbling of words and finger guns. Ever since then you two begun dating in secret.

The hardest part about all of this was trying to get more intimate. There were only a certain amount of places you two could do it with the lowest risk of getting caught. No place was truly 100% risk free, which became increasingly obvious when you kept getting cockblocked by everyone.

First it was Anya, as sweet as she is you slightly resent her for scaring the living hell out of you when she needed Daisuke for his psyche eval. She didn't see anything, and it's not like you two were actually fucking but you were pretty close to doing so. The sudden knocking on the door killed the mood and startled both of you.

"Another time, I promise." Is what he whispered before placing a kiss on your lips.

The second incident was when you paid a visit to Daisuke in the utility room, completely innocent at first. You had to run a binder to him. When Swansea grunted out that he was going on break and to not linger too long and distract him that's when the tension in the air boiled over. Alas, much like last time you two didn't get very far and had to scramble to get yourselves decent before Swansea could barge in and lecture the both of you.

"Next time we won't get interrupted?" he awkwardly said, not fully convinced in his own words.

The third time the two of you were giggling and placing heated kisses on each others skin, on your way to your sleeping quarters. Clothes were discarded on the floor and hands were wandering over bare skin, maybe this time was finally the time you didn't get interrupted.

The sound of a very grouchy Jimmy banging on your door for you to "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep." caused you to audibly groan in frustration. "Fine-Fine!, Just go away!"

Daisuke looked as if he was about to cry.

And of course the breaking point for the both of you was when your captain of all people almost caught you. Frustration was starting to eat both of you whole.

It was one night when everyone had gone to bed earlier than usual did Daisuke pull you into his sleeping quarters, kissing your skin feverishly and panting like a dog. "I can't hold off much longer please," he whined. "I don't even care if we get caught or whatever." You agreed wholeheartedly.

It's been nearly a whole month since the two of you had sex. yikes. You were probably more worked up than he is.

"We should at least move the desk in front of the door-as a precaution y'know?" you murmured. Daisuke nodded eagerly and rushed over to move the piece of furniture in front of the door.

It wasn't the heaviest thing in the world, but it often took you a bit to move it by yourself. Daisuke on the other hand was moving it with ease as if it weighed nothing. Hot.

After the desk was moved he turned to you and began pulling his shirt over his head, careful to avoid snagging it on his earrings.

This was your cue to do the same, you gripped the hem of your shirt and began to peel it over your head. In the split second that your vision was blocked by the fabric Daisuke had taken it upon himself to drop to his knees and start placing kisses down your now exposed abdomen. You giggled, the feeling of the kisses tickled and felt odd.

Once your shirt was fully off he stood back up and kissed you again, walking you towards your bed. Your knees hit the side of the mattress and both of you dropped backwards. He moved his knees on either side of your hips, as he sat back on his haunches eyeing you over wordlessly. "You're so hot." he blurted out. You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss. "I know."

Both of you didn't know where to start, there was an awkward pause as you both sat in silence thinking about what you wanted the most. You took the lead and reached over to his pants, palm instantly going over and rubbing him through his jeans. His hips jerk forward briefly and he groans, eyes rolling back.

It's dark, but you can feel the pre starting to seep into the fabric beneath your palm. Warm and slightly sticky. You bite your lip and wrap your hand around the bulge and proceed to jerk him the best you can through the denim. His breathing is starting to get heavier, huffing and groaning as he clutches the blanket underneath the both of you.

"I want more-fuck I need more." he says, heavy with want. You give him a firm squeeze before bringing your hand up to unbutton his jeans. With Shakey hands he helps you, happy to finally ease this tension. His pants hit the floor with a quiet plop and he's left in his boxers, the front of them wet with his arousal. "Lay back on the bed." You command gently, he obliges wordlessly.

This time you're the one on top, your knees spread on either side of his legs and kissing down his abdomen like he had done to you minutes prior, stopping once you reach his boxers. His breath hitches and you tug the fabric down. His erection springs free and he winces slightly at the temperature change.

You take him into your palm, thumb spreading the pre down his shaft as lubrication and pump him a few times. On the bed Daisuke grips the blanket and lets his jaw fall slack. You lean foreword and take him into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head.

He keens and sits up ever so slightly, propping himself on his elbows. He likes the way your cheeks hollow around him, the feeling of your tongue as it spirals around the tip and then down this length. Before things could go too far he stops you, and you let out a disapproving whine.

"You deserve some action too." he says, his thumb coming up to wipe away some saliva on your lip. "I mean yeah, But I was having fun." He rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Let me take care of you for a bit."

"ugh fine." you playfully groan. You stand up and drop your bottoms, much to Daisuke's surprise you weren't wearing underwear. "Nice." he grins and you lightly smack him on the shoulder.

He has you lay down beside him, legs spread and his hand trailing up your thighs. His fingers trace up your slit and he grins, "Wow you're like really wet right now."

"Can you blame me?" you ask, drawing in a shaky breath as rubs small circles on your clit.

"I can't," he presses wet kisses to your neck. "And I won't." His fingers begin to work inside you now, curling as he moves. You let out a low moan and spread your legs just a bit further.

He continues, relishing in the soft gasps and moans he draws out of you. Once he hits that one specific spot that makes you cry out he smirks and focuses on it, fingers pumping in and out of you faster. You're moans get a little too loud and he gently covers your mouth with his palm.

"I love hearing you, but I think I would actually die if we get interrupted again." He pulls his palm away and replaces it with his lips, groaning as you whine into the kiss.

His movements continue, and as you draw closer to your boiling point his movements cease. He pulls his fingers from you and pulls away from the kiss. Now it's your turn to protest, you were almost there!

Before you can even say anything Daisuke is moving to where he's hovering over you, elbows pressed into the stiff mattress. "Did you want it this way babe, or did you have another position in mind?"

"Lemme ride."

"You got it."

He trades places with you, laying on his back yet again and caressing your hips as you line up with his cock. You sink down on him slowly, biting your lips to suppress a moan. Daisuke has no intentions of quieting himself. "Hoh fuck-" He sucks in a sharp breath once he was fully sheathed inside you.

He holds onto your hips with an almost bruising grip, careful not to hurt you. You begin to rise and fall into his lap, skin meeting skin with a 'plap' sound. Quiet moans and gasps pour past your lips as you continue to ride him, the long over due feeling of feeling full is almost too intense.

Beneath you Daisuke is slack jawed, eyes darting between your face and where the two of you meet. Despite the obvious pleasure he's experiencing it's obvious that he's wanting more, clearly holding back something.

You lean down and graze the shell of his ear with your lips, the feeling of your breath so close sends a shiver down his spine and goosebumps to form on his skin.

"You don't have to hold back." You whisper, You sit back up to look at his face. His eyes widen. "Wait what?"

"Don't hold back, You're super tense right now."

He swallows thickly and his hands squeeze tighter on your hips. "I would but like-" he pauses and bites his lip. "I don't wanna hurt you."

You snort and roll your eyes. "If I didn't think I could handle it I wouldn't have asked." For a moment he just stares blankly, the cogs in his brain turning.

"Meaning..?"

"Meaning I want you to give it to me," You grasp his jaw lightly in one hand and tilt his head up to look directly at you. "Hard."

In an instant his demeanor does a 180 and a wicked grin stretches across his face. "Say less."

His feet press into the mattress and he begins thrusting up, pace brutal. You yelp and grip the sheet below you. "Daisuke!" He merely chuckles and continues, his hands pulling you down to meet his thrusts.

This side of him is something you thought you would never see. Not that you thought he was 'weak' or submissive or anything, he just didn't seem like the type. Though when you're constantly being cockblocked by your crewmates emotions get bottled up quick.

Your eyes roll back as he continues thrusting, jaw falling slack and letting any and all noises flow freely. Somehow it felt like he was deeper, his cock hit new spots in you and you thought you were gonna see stars. The room is filled with the bed creaking and the sound of your bodies slapping together, there's no way that the others didn't hear you.

Suddenly he pauses, gasping for breath below you.

"Tapping out?" You ask snapping out of your daze. "Not yet, Might need to change positions though." He eases you backwards, hovering over you as your back hits the mattress for a second time. He lines himself back up with your pussy and pushes in.

Instinctively your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer. His hips draw back and he resumes thrusting, your body bounces with each push and pull. Over the various noises you hear him mumble praises out to you, how good you feel and how well you're taking him. You moan his name unabashedly, head falling backwards and eyes squinting shut. Without a doubt you were going to be sore tomorrow, the ache starting to set in now. You didn't care, it felt amazing.

"That's my girl." he pants, his hands gripping the sheets beside your head and thrusting even harder. "I can't last much longer, Where do you want it?"

Wordlessly you tighten your legs around his waist and lock eyes with him. He swears and nods. "There? you got it babe." With a few more sloppy thrusts he's spilling inside of you.

He stays buried as he catches his breath, his hand coming up to trace your jawline. "God, You're beautiful."

"You too." He leans down brushing his lips against yours and pressing a few slow deep kisses against them. After he pulls away you point to the nightstand next to you. "I should have some tissues in the drawer."

He looks down to where both of you meet and snorts. "Oh whoops, yeah almost forgot about that." He slides out of you, and you feel his cum start to ooze out. He opens the drawer and pulls out the tissues you mentioned, grabbing a handful and cleaning you up first. It won't get all of it, but it'll clean you up enough.

Once the clean up part is over he climbs back into bed with you, pulling you close. "I uh- wasn't too rough with you right?" he asks, brown doe eyes searching your face eagerly. "You weren't too rough I promise," You brush hair away from his face and smile. "I kinda liked it." His face flushes and he smiles awkwardly "I'm glad you did, not sure if I'd be able to do that all the time though."

"We could always hold off for another few months." you tease. "Please don't." he adds on quickly, "I think I would literally explode." You snort and kiss him. "I'm kidding!"

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[nlghtcore]

.

[grimmgrinningghouls]

anyone else just struggle to connect with people irl. I even struggle online a bit but I have closer online friends then I do irl.

Sometimes I just feel like theres a barrier between me and other people. It keeps me from having more then just work friends or people I speak too on rare occasions.

But we don't hang out, we don't talk outside work and basic interactions. Even if we get along great in those settings, no matter how hard I try I never feel as if I can ever know people more then that.

And its not from lack of trying. I really have put effort into hanging out and talking outside of work, but its never really helped.

idk man. I just feel pretty alone sometimes and almost frustrated and isolated that I can't just talk to people. What am I doing wrong? whats wrong with me?

[ronanlynchbf]

hell day today and i'm only two hours into my EIGHT HOUR SHIFT

[no-144444]

playing favourites- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

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It wasn’t exactly your plan to have a DNF on your first race but, thus the joys of a backmarker team. Zak had promised you, sworn even, that McLaren would be up there, fighting with Ferrari and RedBull. He’d told you that leaving RedBull would be worth it. Now, you were getting beaten by a fucking VCarb, the seat you could’ve had. You stalked over to Oscar once you got out of the car. 

“Care to fucking explain?” you scoffed. He looked at you, unimpressed. 

“It was an error with the steering wheel,” he shrugged. “Nothing you, or I, could’ve done.”

You sighed. “Of course not. Nothing anyone could’ve done, do you think the media will take that? Do you think this won’t mark my fucking career?! Oscar I need you to understand-” 

“Stop shouting at him, it wasn’t his fault,” Zak demanded. 

“Exactly, it’s yours. Make your car drivable,” you said before walking away. 

It was your reputation on the line, your career, your life. You’d worked to be in Formula One your entire life, you were the first woman in years. You didn’t have the option of  ‘just having a bad race’. You had to impress every single time, or else you’d be ridiculed. You knew what you’d see online tonight. You knew what people would say. You knew what questions you’d get from reporters. You knew it all. You’d done the song and dance a million times before, and you weren’t interested in doing it again. 

“SO, WHAT HAPPENED?” “YOUR FANS ARE DEMANDING ANSWERS?” “WAS THIS AN ACTUAL FAILURE OF THE CAR, OR JUST THE DRIVER?” “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO YOUR RACE ENGINEER AFTER?” “DO YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR RACE?” “WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT PEOPLE’S OPINIONS ON YOUR DRIVING AFTER TODAY?” “SHOULD YOU HAVE STAYED AT REDBULL?” 

“ARE YOU EVEN A GOOD DRIVER?”

Walking out of the media pen, you had your head hung low and a blank expression. Every single reporter wanted to talk to you. Every question was more and more degrading, and you just felt empty by the end of it. Megan, your press officer, left you in the hallway of the motorhome and you leant against it and sighed. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. 

In recent months you’d been questioning whether or not any of this was worth it. Every single weekend of your career had been a step towards gender equality, you were the poster-girl for being a good driver, but it was always just not enough. You’d left RedBull because of it. You realised they’d never give you a seat and just continue to use you as a diversity hire. It hurt though, that had been your home for years. You’d always been a RedBull driver, since you were in karting. The whole lead up to your first race was months and months of questions, everyone wondering if you could finally show everyone that women deserved seats in F1. 

And you’d just fucked it up. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you’d started crying until you felt them on your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away, but it wasn’t quick enough to fool Oscar. He frowned as he looked at you, walking towards you. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t fucking pity me,” you scoffed. “Come on, we have to debrief,” you said, walking into the boardroom. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Oscar, when am I pitting?” you shouted, hoping he would finally fucking answer you. 

“I’m not sure yet, give me a moment Y/n-”

“Y’know it’s really fucking impressive how we finally get in the points and now I’m getting fucking undercut because you’re not fucking ready Oscar, this is ridiculous!” you shouted. 

“Pitting next lap,” he said, neutral. It pissed you off how level-headed he was. 

“Fuck off,” you muttered. You pitted next lap. You finished the race in P11. 

Shit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Fuck!” you shouted at Oscar, getting out of the car. “This is such fucking bullshit.”

“Y/n-” he started.

“Just fuck off,’ you sighed, pushing his hand off your arm. “That would’ve been our best finish! P5?! And then Lando turns into me?!” 

He nodded. “Calm down,” he soothed. Your mood turned. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you ripped your arm back. 

Lando DNFed. You DNFed. Shit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

P15, another failure. At least you’d gotten higher than Lando, stuck down in P17. 5 races in and 0 points between the two of you? Fucking hell. You’d never scored so badly in your life. You walked over to the barrier, finding Oscar standing there. 

“Sorry,” you sighed. “We’re so fucking slow.”

He nodded. “We’ll keep working.” 

You nodded, but you felt that same nausea twisting your gut. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, somehow sensing it all. You shook your head. 

He stared at you a second longer, then took your answer, despite the way he sensed your lie. 

You two didn’t get along. He understood that. It didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of your insane diet and work out regimen. He was completely aware of the way you blame yourself despite the car being the only issue. He watched you work yourself to the bone. He almost wished you would be a bit more arrogant, like Lando, he wished it fell off your shoulders as easily as it did his. 

He couldn’t stand the media. The narrative they were pushing about you was ridiculous. You’d won every junior series, you’d waited your turn in RedBull, only to get kicked to the curb, you were good enough, but something told him you were starting to believe otherwise.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“So what’s the issue?” Zak sighed, pacing the garage, starting one of his famous pep talks. 

“Y/n,” a voice from the back muttered and everyone's heads snapped to you. It had been one of the mechanics who had preferred Carlos, but you just shrugged. A few chuckles were heard, one of them coming from Lando himself, and you just continued what you were doing, staring off into space. 

“It’s the car we built,” Zak answered his own question, trying to do damage control. 

“She’s not exactly Hamilton,” Lando said, a little bit too loud, as he joked with his engineer. 

“She’s consistently placed in front of you in the same car,” Oscar pointed out, his voice neutral. “The only reason she DNFed in Saudi Arabia was because you turned into her. Also, you haven’t gotten any points.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He chuckled, making the garage laugh. You rolled your eyes, getting up and walking off. “Is she fucking PMSing?” 

Oscar’s blood boiled at the way his co-workers laughed at that, at you. You didn’t deserve this shit from Lando, from anyone. Oscar went after you. He stopped right outside your driver’s room. 

“I don’t know what to do.

He heard your voice, thick with emotion. 

“You’re not working hard enough, look at Lando. You have to pay your dues here, it’s how McLaren works. Go for a run and clear your head.”

“I’m exhausted-”

“I’m not asking.” 

He stepped back, letting the door swing open. You stared back at him with wide eyes. “Run?” he offered.

“She should go on her own-”

“Yeah, sure,” you shrugged. 

You didn’t like Oscar, but it was better than going alone. 

“What’s Richards’s problem?” he asked as you two ran the streets of  Miami in the pitch black of the night. Richard was your trainer.

“He’s just a bit of a pushover,” you shrugged. “He’s making me better.”

“He’s making you train more, relax less, and eat less,” Oscar pointed out. “Is that better?” 

“So you’re a health expert now?” you scoffed. “The gaul of you, to always assume that you know better than someone just because you can. It is fucking insane how much of an ego everyone here has.”

“Maybe you should get one,” he scoffed. 

“An ego? No thanks.”

“No, a backbone,” Oscar said. “You can’t let Lando walk all over you, he’s without.”

“Without what?”

He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” you continued. “Explain.”

Oscar smirked. “Talent.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so strange.”

And off you went, running again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

P4, finally a good result, finally a result worth all the struggle, all the shit, everything.

But no one was at the barricade. None of your mechanics, no Zak, no one. Not even Oscar. You looked like a fucking idiot. Lando had DNFed. They were busy with him. McLaren was such a fucking boys club, and you didn’t fit in. You shook your head as you searched the barricade, not one familiar face to be had. Bullshit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You walked back into the motorhome after all of your media duties, and you scoffed when they let out a half-hearted cheer. No celebration for you, only sympathy for Lanod, who crashed because of his own reckless driving, Lando who was totally fine, Lando. You pretended it didn’t hurt. You’d been congratulated by everyone else, every other driver, especially Danny, Liam, Yuki, Max, and Checo. They all gave you the biggest hug, told you how well you were doing, and celebrated you.  You wished you’d just stayed as their reserve driver. Maybe then you’d be something to someone. 

You stumbled into your driver’s room and found a note on your table, beside it, your favourite chocolate bar. 

Congratulations on your result, you deserve to be celebrated, but Lando sucks so we had to pretend that you aren’t incredible. I thought you’d enjoy something sweet, sorry we had to be the ones to leave the bitter taste in your mouth.

Osc. 

You stared down at it for a moment. Oscar knew your favourite chocolate bar. Oscar explained himself and apologised. Oscar was there for you, even if it was just in spirit. Oscar wanted to celebrate you. He wished he didn’t have to leave you alone, standing in Parc Fermé with no one to congratulate you. 

“Fuck you,” you said, to no one in particular. You were alone, as always. You crumbled up the note and threw it into the bin. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar looked at his desk in MTC the next morning and found the same chocolate bar he’d spent 3 hours searching for, he frowned. McLaren was ruining you slowly. Your mental health was falling further and further away from ‘alright’, and he seemed to be the only one to notice it. He saw you out of the corner of his eye. “Y/n,” he called. “Come here.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to him. “What?”

“I don’t like these,” he shrugged. “You should take it, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t like them either,” you shrugged. “Go give it to Lando, since you’re his bitch now too.”

“I-”

“I don’t fucking care about where your loyalty lies, Oscar, but don’t play both sides. You picked one in Imola, so stick with it,” you seethed, hitting the bar out of his hand. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

playing favourites masterlist

[xiaq]

Did you ever work in customer service? You give off been-in-the-trenches-and-are-better-for-it vibes.

Hi, this is slightly unhinged, but thank you!!

Now you're going to get the story of how I was offered a job on the spot for the first ever position I ever interviewed for (which was, indeed, customer service).

Okay, so, I'm 15, my birthday is in two days, and HEB (Texas grocery store) is hiring baggers for $7 an hour and cashiers for a whole whopping $10 an hour. Cashiers have to have prior experience OR have to work as a bagger for a year first. But I am full of teenage verve and I want that cashier position. I want it now.

I show up on my motorcycle, so I'm in my "professional" outfit but carrying my helmet when I enter the hiring manager's office, which really sets the tone for how things proceed.

The interviewer is like, "how old are you?" and babyface mcgee me, five foot tall and all of 90lbs says, "Fifteen. But I'm sixteen in two days."

And he's like, "...we can't hire you if you're fifteen."

And I'm like, "bet, but you can get the paperwork started now, yeah?"

And he says, "wait, how did you drive a motorcycle here if you're 15?"

So the first 5 minutes of the interview turn into me showing him my license, explaining DMV rules re 15-yr-olds and permitted engine size for motorcycles and pointing out my bike in the parking lot.

"Okay," he says, clearly trying to rally. "So you have a method of transportation, that's great, but we can't consider you for the cashier job if you don't have experience. We can only consider you as a bagger."

I'm prepared for this. I lay out my most recent report card, as well as copies of the sports and academic awards I've achieved in the last year. I give my "I'm a fast learner, I'm a hard worker, and you'll benefit more from me working as a cashier, interacting with customers, than a bagger" speech. I've been buying groceries at this store my whole life, so I know that cashiers are ranked by how many 'Item of the Week' they manage to hawk at checkout (typically batteries or soda or chips). "I'll be top of the ranking for Item of the week, just you wait."

I think he is reluctantly charmed by my bull-headedness. "Okay,” he says, reaching for the can of coke on his desk. "Fine. Sell this to me, then. Right now."

This man is mid-forties. He has bad handmade artwork hung up on his office wall.

"Do you have kids?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Two," he says. "Boy and a girl. The girl is just a year younger than you, actually."

"Ah," I say, "is it getting harder and harder to connect with her? Monosyllabic answers? Spends all her time in her room."

"...yes," he says.

“I was the same,” I say somberly. “Until, one afternoon, my dad came into my room and handed me a Coke.”

I tap my fingers on the Coke in front of me.

“He told me to come share a drink with him while he grilled on the back porch and that once I’d finished my Coke I could crawl, hissing, back to my room, but he wanted company until then. And see, I did, actually, want to spend time with my dad. I just didn’t know how to initiate it, and my teenage hormones made it difficult for me to express that. So I took the Coke and stomped my way outside but once I was there, I drank it slowly. And I answered his questions about school and cheerleading and asked him about work and we planned a weekend father-daughter motorcycle trip into the hill country. And ever since then, every few days, he’ll come to my room and offer me a Coke, and I’ll spend half an hour drinking it in his company.”

I slide the coke across the desk to him. “Might be an approach to try with your daughter, what do you think?”

He catches the Coke automatically. He sighs.

"Yeah, alright," he says. "Cashier job is yours. Come back in two days when you're actually sixteen and we'll get your paperwork sorted out." I worked there for the rest of high school and I was, typically, top of the rankings for selling Items of the Week the entire duration.

Entirely unrelated, I hate coke. I don’t drink soda, and the only beverage my dad has ever shared with me on the back porch is a margarita. But he didn’t need to know that.

[varpusvaras]

When Dick started to spend more time with his team, and started to talk about Wally just as much as he talked about Starfire, Bruce knew that they needed to have a talk.

"I don't care if you like boys or girls", Bruce had said. "Just promise me that you won't date Oliver Queen's son."

Not that he had anything against Roy, Bruce just really did not want to deal with Oliver any more than he already had to.

"Sure", Dick had said, in a way that very clearly implicated that if Bruce ever annoyed him too much, he would do exactly that simply to spite him.

Jason was a lot easier in regards to relationships. No teams or teammates or relationship problems that roused from having several teenagers spending a lot of time together in close quarters. Compared to Dick, Jason always looked younger and smaller, and Bruce didn't even think about talking to him about it. Not yet. They still had time to do it.

They didn't.

Jason was gone, and then he was back, and Bruce really, really did not have the time or even thought to talk to him about dating girls or boys.

And maybe that wasn't even the part that they should've talked about. No, the part they should've talked about was not dating Oliver Queen's son.

Not that Bruce had anything against Roy. He smart and resourceful and respectful (he always volunteered to help Alfred every time he came to the Manor), and he was a good father. That was especially a quality that Bruce could respect. Roy was good to Jason, in seemingly every way that mattered.

It was just that now Bruce had to deal with Oliver. Well, not in a way that he had to see Oliver more often, but he certainly had to deal with him more. Especially since every single time Bruce and Jason had an argument, Jason would spend more time at Oliver and Dinah's place, and Oliver would every single time without fail rub it in to Bruce's face.

After one of said arguments that hit a bit too close to the Holidays, Bruce knew that he had to do something. He couldn't take Oliver's smug face from having all of his kids and one of Bruce's over at their place. Bruce needed to invite them over first. Jason would understand the invitation as the olive branch that it was.

He had called Jason, but it was Roy who picked up. That was good, actually. Roy was many times easier to talk to than Jason. At least he greeted Bruce normally instead of calling him an asshole right from the get-go.

"We could come visit", Roy said, and Bruce took it was the win it was. "I'm just pretty sure that you have something to say to Jason, first."

Bruce had many things to say to Jason all the time.

"Hn", he said.

"That last argument sounded pretty bad", Roy continued, calmly and sweetly. "I'm sure that both of you said things you didn't mean to, but just because you didn't mean them doesn't mean it's okay. So, is there something you would like to say to Jason?"

"Hn." Was Bruce on speaker? Jason hadn't said anything to indicate that he could hear Bruce.

"What's the word?" For a split second, it was like Alfred was on the other side of the line, and Bruce found himself speaking before he could think about it properly.

"I'm sorry", he said.

"Thank you!" Roy sounded like he was smiling widely. "We'll be there, then!"

Roy hung up. Bruce put his phone down, his head spinning slightly.

"I assume that Master Jason and Master Roy will be over, then?" Alfred asked.

"Yes", Bruce said.

"That is splendid to hear." Alfred patted Bruce on his arm. "Good man, that Master Roy. He has certainly read his books on parenting, it seems."

Bruce leaned on his desk, his mind reeling with the realisation that he had just been out-dadded by his son's boyfriend.

A good man, Alfred had said. Bruce couldn't do anything else but agree.

[harrysfolklore]

Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.

You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.

A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.

"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"

Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.

"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."

"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."

"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.

"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."

He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.

"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."

He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.

"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."

It was safe to say that  fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.

"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."

"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."

"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."

"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."

"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"

"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.

"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."

You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.

"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."

"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."

"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."

"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."

"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."

"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."

"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."

He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.

"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part one

a/n: keigo's was specifically inspired by this :'-) (im bawling)(the other's will be out sometime later) happy birthday keigo baby <3

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

keigo never stopped wincing at the wind chills. even with several layers hung over his shoulders and the thickest coat, nothing stopped his scars from burning against the coastal breeze blitzing past his figure.

today he feels that familiar burning in his stomach as if he's ready to hurl over and release its contents into the sand.

"god, it's really pouring." you mutter towards the waves crashing against the shore.

your grip tightens on the umbrella, making sure the wind doesn't take your only cover with it.

"the first rain of the season is always insane, ya know." keigo murmurs, eyes turning down to his feet, watching his heels dig into the wet sand.

"it's nice though." you softly smile, reaching up and brushing away the ocean spray from the chilled skin of his cheeks.

you two stop for a moment and take in the ambience- the rain bouncing off of your umbrella, the crying seagulls in the distance, and the waves violently folding into one another.

keigo never considered himself religious.

for more nights than not, he finds himself asking how he'd be able to to walk this earth again- if he'll amount to anything ever again. every day is hard. he lost a piece of himself. nothing feels right.

no amount of praying could save him from himself, but you did.

"it is." he returns the smile, raising his gaze to meet yours, making his stomach twist.

you wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him closer under your shared umbrella- barely big enough to shield the both of you.

"are you cold, though? it's chilly." you rub your hand up and down his back, gently running your palm over his scarred shoulder blades.

keigo remembered the first few days without his wings and how cold and haunting it was. uneasiness and vulnerability followed him everywhere, but he found solace and safety plopped right on top of you with your fingers tracing the curves of his back.

he lost everything, and there you were to keep him together.

"we can go back to the car soon, if you want. get home and snuggle?"

he doesn't answer. he takes your arms around from his back and holds your hand in his, running a thumb across your knuckle. keigo was shivering, but nothing was more uncomfortable than the dryness in his throat and the burning flame in his stomach.

you slightly cock your head, and take note of his cold clammy hands and fidgety feet tapping against the wet sand. "actually, let's start heading back, yeah? it's gonna get dark soon."

you start to step away before he pulls you back with a tighter grasp around your hand.

"wait. angel, i-um." he stammers, eyes suddenly going wide. "wait."

keigo never believed in a god. not until now when he lowered his knee to the ground, and whispered a prayer.

"marry me. please."

you turn around and find him kneeling right before you, tears brimming his eyes and raindrops pelting against him.

there's a desperate strain in his voice, a cloud of air escaping his lips with every word. it was you and forever, or nothing at all. keigo had lost everything, everyone, and himself over and over again, but you were his salvation.

he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckle.

"please." he mutters once more against your cold skin, letting the heat of his exhale warm the back of your hand.

a beat passes. then two.

"i had a whole speech prepared, i swear, and i'm blanking right now because i'm so fucking nervous, but i love you. i love you and i am nothing without you."

you don't notice that your umbrella has fallen off to the side, letting the storm engulf you both.

"for the longest time, i wanted nothing more than to watch the world from above again, but i need you to know that i'd die to walk this earth with you. i want forever with you. i'd sacrifice the skies for that. please."

you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, choking back sobs.

"god, you're so dramatic, kei" you cry into his neck.

he huffs out a hearty laugh, and his shoulders fall in relief as he melts into you.

"if i stuck to the script it would've been ten times more theatrical i'm sorry to disappoint." he mumbles in your hairline.

"yes. it's you and me. yes." you choke out. "let's have forever together."

you pull away from him, watching the beads of water trail down his nose bridge and fall into your lap.

"i love you. i love you, i love you, and i love you." you mutter against his lips, peppering kisses in between every breath. "forever."

-

keigo tag: @bitchyfestivalbouquet

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

[subcultureblues]

Burnin’ Down The House

Steve finally psyches himself up to ask Eddie out, because really, what’s the worst that could happen? He makes sure everything’s perfect, goes to shoot his shot annnnnnnnd - Eddie’s fucking pissed.

My Secret Santa gift for the lovely @sunflowerharrington for the @steddieexchange (thank you so much to @paradimeshifts7 for the beta!) Sunflower’s fave tropes are : Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Accidental Love Confessions

So buckle in boys…

———

They’ve been dancing around this for long enough.

It had been three months. Three maddening, excruciating, unbearable months of he and Eddie circling each other in this ridiculous, elaborate mating ritual. Steve had been kind of really hoping Eddie would make the first move; Steve’s new to this, he doesn’t know the protocol!

…But clearly that wasn’t happening.

Three months of smolderingly flirtatious banter, two very revealing conversations with Robin, and one only slightly over-dramatic gay crisis later - and Steve had officially had enough.

“Stop fussing. It’s gonna go great.”

“And if I crash and burn?”

“Which you won’t.”

“Which I won’t,” Steve echoed reluctantly, because by this point Robin had him trained like a prize-winning show pig. “But even if I’m fucking - casanova in cable-knit, if he’s just - not interested, and… he turns me down - “

“Which he won’t.”

“We don’t even know if he -“ Steve snapped. He ran a hand down his face, groaning in awful, self-inflicted agony. “I’m just trying to prepare myself, mentally, for the possibility of failure here. I mean what if - we don’t even know if he’s into guys, Robin.”

Robin snorted.

“Ok fine, and if he is? Doesn’t mean he’s gonna go for… “ Steve looked in the mirror again, still trying to get his hair to fall right. He squinted with an edgy huff.

“Steve,” Robin said in her most long-suffering tone of voice. She smacked her palms against both of his cheeks and squished. “He likes you.”

“Yeaf?” he said, muffled by the contortion of his face and his lips.

Robin nodded solemnly. She opened the car door and stepped one foot onto the driveway of her house.

“We’ve both seen the way he looks at you.” And the thing is, Steve had. When he thought he was being slick. The way his eyes settle on Steve, warm and unhurried. Like he was trying to take it all in. “Frankly the whole starcrossed longing thing - it’s getting old. And on my nerves. Just put that poor, pathetic man out of his misery and kiss him already,” she pleaded.

“Alright! I get it.”

“And I mean, seriously Steve. Honestly. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“No. You’re right.” Steve nodded, gesturing at her. “You’re right.”

Because yeah, she probably was right — which God, Steve hated when she did that...

“I’ll call you when I get home, ok?”

“Can’t wait to hear all about how you two lovestruck idiots finally get it together.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she reached down to reassuringly squeeze his hand on the steering wheel. It helped. A lot, actually.

Robin stepped out, closing the door behind her, then immediately shoved her head back through the open window. Steve opened his mouth to ask what she forgot this time.

“Do not forget to use protection.” She ordered, sounding distinctly like his mother. He took offense, raising his hands with an indignant look.

“I already told you - “

“Yeah, yeah. Your whole master of seduction plan to sweep the Freak off his feet.” She snickered.

“Romance him. Epically,” Steve corrected her. “My plan to epically romance him.”

“You’re not fooling anyone Slut Harrington.” Steve rolled his eyes. Robin grinned at him. It managed to calm his nerves enough that he could honestly smile back. “Call me, okay? As soon as you get home. I get to be first to hear the good news.”

“I will.” She started towards the front door. “Oh, and Robin?”

She turned back to him.

“How’s my hair?”

She hung her head in defeat.

“Jesus Christ…”

He pulled up to the Munson’s trailer just after sunset and honked when he parked outside. After maybe a minute, Eddie came sprinting out of the trailer, throwing open the passenger side door and launching himself into the Beemer.

“Go, go, go! The cops are right on our tail!”

“Think we can outrun ‘em?” Steve smiled, very slowly putting the car into reverse to back up and turn around.

“Obviously no. That’s why we have a getaway car, Steve. Keep up.”

“Uh-huh. Alright, outlaw. You got the stuff?”

“Made out like a bandit.” Eddie bounced his eyebrows, swinging an 8 pack of beer from his fingers.

“Eugh. Samuel Adams?” Steve made a face.

“You pay, you pick.” Eddie shrugged unapologetically.

“Fine. I got ice in the cooler back there.” Steve swiveled and braced his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat… and Eddie looked at him. In that way that he does; in subdued glances, furvative, just out of the corner of his eye. In the way that made hope light up like a sparkler in Steve’s chest. He leaned just a little deeper into Eddie’s space, eyes on the road behind them as he reversed the car, trying not to give himself away by grinning too much.

They had planned to head down to the quarry. It was nice, scenic. Perfect for this kind of thing. Steve knew about this one spot, a picnic table that overlooked the water. Real premium makeout real estate.

Honestly, Eddie was kind of ruining the ambiance Steve was trying to set here. He’d left one of his tapes playing from out of the car's open windows. Not loud, but still. They sat together next to the parked car, looking out at the black glass water below. Perched atop the table with their feet on the bench, sipping disgustingly cheap, but cold at least, beer.

If Steve blocks out the distant heavy metal screaming, it could pass pretty convincingly for romantic. The sky had cooperated with him, not a cloud in sight. Just an endless, timeless sea of stars. The moon was waning but bright enough they could see in the dark. But also not so bright it washed out the impression of the Milky Way above them. Still summer - which meant it was brisk but not chilly.

Perfect. Or - at least as close to perfect as Steve could really hope for.

“Ghosts?” Steve was saying, smiling and shaking his head. “Seriously?”

“What - so you’ll buy interdimensional evil wizards and - and demon bats from hell but you draw the line at ghosts?”

“Well, yeah. Difference there - is that I’ve never seen a ghost before,” he said, gesturing with his beer.

“So? That doesn’t mean there aren’t any!” Eddie was talking with his hands again.

“Sure - maybe. But it does mean I don’t have to think about it,” Steve said, and Eddie threw his head back laughing.

Eddie took another long swing and they settled down, a comfortable quiet setting in. Steve glanced over at Eddie over the rim of his beer. Eddie was looking off into the distance, smiling. It felt… The timing felt right.

Steve set down his can carefully and took a deep breath (he’d popped a mint when they got here, and could only hope it would break through the bitter beer smell). He wiped his hands on his jeans so they for sure wouldn’t be clammy.

He braced a hand on the table behind Eddie’s back. Leaned into his space. Eddie went still, turning his head and blinking at him apprehensively.

“So…” Steve over-enunciated, and Eddie’s eyes immediately flickered down to his lips. It was brief, but Steve clocked it.

Steve smiled, made sure to let Eddie know that yeah, he saw that.

Oh, Steve’s so had this in the bag. He was great at this.

Steve unholstered ol’ reliable - his brightest, most charming smile. The one that always got girls blushing and tucking their hair behind their ears. He could really only hope it’d have the same devastating impact on Eddie.

“Keep looking at me like that Munson - I’m gonna start thinking something crazy.”

“What?”

“That maybe you like what you see….That you’re interested…” Eddie was quiet, studying his face very seriously. Three things for which he’d never been particularly known for. Or particularly good at for that matter. It was kind of intense. Steve slanted his eyes slightly down and to the side, not wanting to be thrown off his game.

Focus, Harrington. You got this. You got this because you’re super cool and smooth and good at this.

“So - come on, what do you say you and me just cut to the chase and go out already?” He said, light and playful.

He glanced back up at Eddie through his lashes and actually, physically, flinched when he saw his expression.

The look in his eyes was ice cold.

“Hey, fuck you, man,” Eddie said, putting a hand on Steve’s chest and shoving him right back out of his personal space. Steve tipped over onto the tabletop. He landed on his opposite hip, catching himself with his elbow. It took a second or two to process as he slowly sat back up.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed red with anger, the upset in his eyes. The way he had already turned his head away, like he didn't want to have to even look at Steve right now. How tense his posture was, sitting there leaning his elbows on his knees. Tapping his sneaker restlessly against the bench.

It left Steve floundering for a good few seconds.

“Yeah. You’re real funny, Harrington, you know that?” Eddie said, as quiet as he was tense.

“I -” Eddie looked over at him expectantly, mouth in an uncomfortably twisted-up frown. Looking like all he wanted in the world right then was for Steve to apologize or laugh it off. Or, more likely, to just fucking drop it. And Steve still hadn’t said anything.

Because to be honest, Steve was having a hard time believing it. Sure, he had been nervous. But like, - not that nervous.

He probably wouldn’t’ve had the nerve to put it all on the line if he wasn’t pretty damn sure the feeling was mutual.

It was just… The way Eddie always tried to rile him up. Make him laugh. Pull his pigtails. Like he couldn’t get enough of Steve’s attention. How he’d go way out of his way for Steve only to go all nonchalant and pink, play it cool when Steve tried to thank him for it. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Even those times when it was. And then there was always that distinctive tension. That undeniable charge.

Look. Steve Harrington knows flirting. Knows it when he sees it. And he had seen it floating on the periphery of almost every conversation they’ve had all the way back to when the Venca fiasco started.

This whole fucking ordeal was brought about in the first place because twice (twice!) Steve had caught Eddie fixating on — gazing at — his naked chest.

“What?” Steve smiled weakly. “You can’t - you’re seriously telling me I just imagined all that…? That it was all just totally-“ his hands fluttered of their own volition, “in my head…”

Wrong thing to say. Somehow the worst thing to say, judging by Eddie’s reaction.

Eddie pushed off the table to stand, shoulders inflating as he took a large inhale and held it before letting it out slowly. It was controlled, like if he wasn’t careful he might go off like a bomb. Still, the look he was giving Steve was fucking radiation poisoning.

“Ok, what the fuck is your problem?” Eddie jerked his chin defiantly.

Steve could practically hear it, the moment his heart dropped like a rock.

Eddie’s top lip curled up when Steve didn’t say anything, just sat there with his dumb mouth left open.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply that you were…” Steve rubbed at the clamminess on the back of his neck.

“Oh no? Then what did you mean to imply, exactly?”

Steve hesitated, and Eddie looked upset at how much that vindicated him.

“I mean…” Sure, small towns were small-minded. But not Eddie. Never Eddie. At least, Steve never took him for the type. Sure maybe the guy’s a little bit prickly, but he doesn’t judge a freak for being a freak. He welcomed all those rejected and abandoned by society. Is fiercely, loyally protective over them. It was part of why Steve fell for him, his enduring Sheep Dog nature. “…s’not like it’s that bad a thing to be, right?”

Eddie laughed.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” He said it big and loud and sarcastic and defiant. Like the way he talked to the assholes and the jocks and the bullies, the ones that give him trouble at school. How he talked to the ‘Them’ not the ‘Us’. Like the way he never talked to Steve.

“Hey,” Steve said, defensively. He stood up, not liking the feeling of Eddie looking down on him right now. “Dude, why are you being like this? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Eddie’s features twitched, like he was exerting incredible amounts of restraint, and somehow this was his measured response.

“Hah. Well. S’ a good one. You’re a real riot…” He walked past Steve, roughly knocking into his shoulder as he did.

Steve stumbled a step. Eddie honestly hadn’t even bumped him that hard, but he wasn’t feeling very stabilized right now. He turned, watching Eddie march towards the tree line.

“Fuck you, King Steve,” Eddie said dismissively as he walked away. Steve was kind of floored. It took him a second to respond.

“I - Dude! Where are you even going?”

“I’ll walk!” Eddie yelled, not turning around.

Steve just watched him go. He wrapped his arms around himself. Suddenly realizing how cold he felt, even in his sweater. Even when it was still summer.

And Eddie he, he never acted like this.

Look, Eddie might have been kind of an asshole, and as of 5 minutes ago had decided he hated Steve’s guts… but he was still Eddie.

And Steve wasn’t gonna let him get lost in an occasionally monster-ridden forest.

He jogged to catch up. When Eddie heard him coming through the undergrowth, it seemed to make him storm away faster.

“Come on, man. Eddie! I’m sorry, okay? — Just. At least let me drive you home.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie said, speed-walking as if Mr. Pack-A-Day could outpace the jock.

“Where are you even going?”

“What are you, a cop?”

“Eddie -“ Steve said, because this was, frankly, ridiculous. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist, tugging him back.

Eddie’s eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

“Eddie?”

“What!?” Eddie said quietly, stubbornly looking somewhere off to the side, waiting for him to say something.

If only Steve knew what the fuck to say.

“You really had me fooled for a second there… that you’d changed since school. Shows me, huh?”

“Hey, fuck you! You’re the one who’s being, like, honestly, just - really immature about all this.”

“Oh, I’m being immature?” Eddie practically yelled, a cruel smile splitting his face open.

“Yes!” Steve yelled back indignantly, because that would be a hard charge for Eddie to beat right now. Especially with that petulant death glare he’s still got on.

Steve looked away and took a deep breath, dragging a hand roughly down his face. He held it over his mouth for a second, just trying to get his head on straight.

He really wished his eyes would stop burning. He’d thought… he’d really, really thought. Oh god, he’d just messed everything up, didn’t he?

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, okay? Can we just drop it? You don’t have to - you don’t gotta freak out on me…” Steve tried. But Eddie just stared at him, then looked down, kicking at the ground with the toe of his sneaker.

“God, you’re such a fucking asshole...” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m an asshole?” Steve repeated, offended and already exhausted from fighting. “Cause I asked you a question?”

“Cause where do you get off, that’s why. Fuckin’ - Am I just some kind of fucking joke to you? Is that it?”

“What - ?” Steve sputtered. “I don’t even -“ He tried so hard not to look as hurt by Eddie’s words as he felt. And when that got too impossible he just looked away. “You really think it’s that much of a joke, that I’d want to...”

“Come on! You think I don’t know this game? You figured out I’m into you, then what? What’s the play, King Steve? Huh? You ask me out so you can laugh in my face? Stand me up? Humiliate me? Or was the plan to - “

Steve’s eyes snapped to Eddie.

“Wait, stop. Eddie - Stop! Just hold on for a second.” He held out his palms, trying to cut Eddie off mid rant. “You’re into me?”

Eddie looked at Steve like he was stupid.

“Yes!” He yelled. The ‘duh’ seemed to be implied.

Steve stopped. He stood up straighter. Smiled.

“Really?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie said, blushing again. “Fine. Yeah, you got me all figured out. A freak and a fag, the fucking - two in one special. Well, you know what Harring-whatareyoudoing?”

“Really?” Steve said again, swooping in close. Feeling bold or brave or, more likely, just plain stupi. He grabbed one of Eddie’s hands loosely in his.

Eddie looked down at the point of contact and then back up at him. Just so fucking lost.

“What is this?” Eddie said, squinting at Steve like he was an algebra equation. But that was okay. It had taken a few tries, but Eddie managed to pass with a C. Eventually. “This…” He took a shaky step backward. Shaking his head and trying to get his hand back. “This is fucked up, man.”

“Go on a date with me.” Steve took a step forward, following him, taking both Eddie’s hands in his.

“Stop messing with me,” Eddie said, looking almost afraid.

“I’m not messing with you. Go on a date with me.” Eddie was totally and completely silent. Eyebrows drawn together, eyes darting all over Steve’s features, trying desperately to read them. Steve gave him an impish grin. “You like me,” he said smugly, but his voice couldn’t help but soften. “I like you, too Eddie.”

“You’re straight!”

“Says who?” Steve shrugged with a shy grin.

Eddie’s mouth hung open as he stared at Steve with those big, doe eyes.

“O-Okay…? Sure. But, I still don’t the part where you want to…” Clearly, Eddie wasn’t getting it.

“I like you, dude,” Steve said, pushing down the nerves. Wanting this to go well. Because God, if it went well…

Eddie pointed to himself, mouthing the word ‘me’ with just the most comical look on his face. Steve let out a small puff of laughter.

“Yeah… I’m like, kinda totally gone on you, man.”

Eddie was shaking his head ‘no’. Steve put his hands gently on both of Eddie’s cheeks to stop him as he nodded his own head ‘yes’.

Normally, he’d be worried about encroaching on Eddie’s space like this, considering tonight he had shown himself to be especially flighty. But the way Eddie was gripping his wrists, Steve probably couldn’t have backed off even if he wanted to. And he really didn’t want to.

“Eddie… you’re fun. And you’re funny. And you help me take care of the kids. You look out for other people, and I like how you're always singing under your breath. And your always moving. And, and you’re hot.”

Eddie gave him a bewildered look.

“The uh, bad boy thing it’s…” he huffed a breath, “it works.”

“Uh…“

“What do I gotta do? To prove it? C’mon,” he asked quietly.

Eddie's eyes immediately darted down to his lips. Just like they always did when Steve got him close. Only now, maybe he can finally do something about it. Steve smiled.

“Yeah?” Steve asked in a small, intimate voice. No one else was around to hear, but still, Steve wanted it to be just for them.

Eddie looked hypnotized by the way Steve was bridging the distance between them.

Steve kissed him, soft and slow and perfect. Eddie melted into it immediately, and they kissed like that in the dark for a nice, long while.

Steve pulled back to see Eddie’s reaction, finding him completely frozen. His eyes dazed with shock.

Oh god, Steve might’ve broken him…

Steve held him by his cheeks again, gently tilting his lips up so he could land one more kiss.

“Eddie?” The two of them just looked at each other.

A moment passed. And then another. And then Eddie was back online and had Steve pushed up against a tree. Steve groaned when his back connected with it. He likes that way more than he should.

Eddie’s forehead was pressed against Steve’s. He had his hands all over Steve, touching and caressing and roaming over all the uncharted territory of his face, his neck.

“What the fuck. What the fuck, Harrington?” Eddie muttered before kissing him. This time it was Steve who melted. Eddie pulled back, leaning away from him.

“You're not fucking with me, right?”

Steve shook his head ‘no’, losing the fight against a truly revealing smile.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered again. And then they were making out again, and Eddie was licking into his mouth, and his touch was restless, relentless, pressing into Steve’s skin, hands finding their way into his hair, under his shirt; and there’s that electricity.

It left him tingly all over. Steve moaned low.

“M’sorry I yelled at you.” Eddie pressed the words into Steve’s mouth.

“Make it up to me,” Steve panted.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie said, still repeating himself, and Steve could feel a warm breath on his lips. It smelt like cigarettes and cheap beer, but tasted like something that fell out of heaven.

Eddie’s hands slid down the curve of his back, slipping into the back pockets of Steve’s jeans, squeezing hard. Steve jolted, his breath catching.

“Fuck, I’ve always wanted to do that,” Eddie groaned, sounding agonized by the feeling.

Steve chuckled, winding his arms around Eddie’s lower back and dragging Eddie against him. He widened his stance just enough to coax Eddie’s thigh into the space between his legs so he could grind down on it.

Eddie leaned back to watch him do it, directing Steve against his thigh with the hands cupping him firmly from inside his jeans pockets. His eyelids were heavy, and there was something dark and hungry behind them.

“Fuck, Steve. That’s fucking beautiful, you know that?” Steve made a noise in the back of his throat, pulling Eddie against him and demanding another kiss.

Steve could feel Eddie getting hard against his hip. It zapped him with a full-body shiver. He knew Eddie had to feel what this is doing to Steve, too. And that also made him shiver a little bit.

“Eddie, wait - “ Eddie retreated just enough to nestle his face into Steve’s neck, placing soft, almost apologetic butterfly kisses into the sensitive skin.

“I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?” he said, without even pausing.

“No, me too,” Steve struggled to say between too big, heaving breaths. “I wanna do this right, Eds. Take you out, pick you up in my car, let me buy you dinner.”

Eddie pulled back to look at him. He had that look again, eyebrows drawn together like Steve was a puzzle he might never figure out. The difference was, this time he allowed some of that vulnerability he was so terrified of seep out through the cracks.

Then slowly, very slowly, the corners of his mouth started to rise. He was smiling mostly with his eyes, though. It was so fucking beautiful it caused Steve’s heart to miss a beat.

“Tonight doesn’t count,” Steve said.

Eddie laughed brightly. “No?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Beer isn’t dinner.” Eddie kissed him again, slow and languid and simmering so hot that Steve felt his insides start to boil from the glow. “Wanna romance you for real. Please?”

“Fuck, Steve. How are you supposed to say that and expect me not to fuck you right here on the ground?”

Steve jolted, his abdomen clenching in white, hot want, Eddie’s words and the low gravel of his voice sending a thrill down his spine.

Eddie leaned back a bit, grimacing.

“Right, I don’t know if you’re - if you’d be into, uh -“ Eddie trailed off, unsure. Steve huffed out a laugh, leaning his head back against the tree. Still breathing hard, he looked at Eddie from down the slope of his nose. He let his eyes roam lazily, checking Eddie out. Taking in his messy hair, his shiny pink lips, his broad-shouldered leather, his pretty face, and the expression on it that was so incredibly horny it kind of took every scrap of Steve’s willpower not to do something about it. The corner of Steve’s panting mouth twitched up.

“You want to? Fuck me?” He said it almost like a challenge. Eddie laughed, like that was another one of those things that came with a ‘duh’. Like it should be obvious.

“I am but a man. And you… are…” He let his sentence trail off again, because he knew he didn’t have to elaborate. His eyes said it all, the way they roamed ravenously down Steve’s body.

He squeezed Steve’s ass again and pushed his thigh up, trapping Steve against it. Steve choked on a sound that died in his throat.

“Fuck. What is even happening...” Eddie said, closing his eyes. “I feel like I’m about to wake up from a dream right now with the world’s least ignorable hard on.”

“Dream about me often, Munson?” Steve asked, lolling his head smugly, really just joking around.

“Fucking - Yeah. Dude. Like, a lot. Fuck, the amount of times I’ve gotten off thinking about this exact…” Steve’s eyelids went heavy, his lips parting in a small exhale. He could feel his breathing start to stutter. “Sorry, too much?”

“You’re the one who better not be fucking with me this time.”

“You have no idea how close I am to just dropping to my knees and blowing you right here, just like, instinctually.”

“How close exactly?” Steve raised a lecherous eyebrow. He couldn’t help but blush a little. This morning, his highest hope was that Eddie liked him back —

That Eddie had been dreaming about him sucking Steve’s dick? Yeah. That one might go to his head a little.

Eddie laughed and hid his face in Steve’s neck again. Steve wondered if that was just an Eddie thing — something he could expect more of… if Steve played his cards right.

“Fuck,” he muttered against Steve’s skin. “Could you tell?” Steve made a questioning noise, nosing at Eddie’s big frizzy mop of hair. His shampoo smelt like clean, fresh pine. He let himself breathe in deep, already addicted. “About my big stupid crush on you I’ve had since forever?”

Steve bit his lip, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s skull. God, he felt like such a fucking doofus smiling like this with his dick rock-hard between them.

“Okay, I’m worried you really are fucking with me now,” Steve laughed. Eddie shook his head ‘no’ against Steve’s skin.

“Since high school,” he bemoaned, leaning heavily into him. “Not once did I ever actually even let myself consider that you’d ever…. Shit…. I can’t believe I blew up at you like that. God, I’m sorry I’m such a fucking dick…”

“You liked meeee,” Steve laughed. He was barely listening anymore. Eddie had been crushing on Steve in high school! That had got to be like five points for the You Rule board, at least!

Eddie reached a hand between them, squeezing Steve’s cock. He squeaked in surprise, trying to resist the urge to find further friction.

“By the looks of things, you like me well enough too,” Eddie said, nipping at his ear lobe.

“Hey. Stop it, stop that,” Steve said, wriggling in his grip. “I told you. I really wanna do this right.”

“Gonna wine and dine me, Harrington?”

“Can I?”

“Depends. You put out on the first date?”

Steve chuckled.

Eddie emerged from the space between Steve's head and neck. His eyes were soft and warm, and he had the dopiest lopsided grin.

“What do you take me for?” Steve said, pretending to push Eddie away with no real force behind it. He wanted to keep Eddie right here, in his arms, solid and warm on his chest, smiling just like that for… for however long Steve could manage to keep him there.

“Fine. But I call next. You want romance, Harrington? You better be prepared for the whole nine yards. I’m talking flowers, I’m serenading you at the door - because yeah, I get to pick you up for date two. Oh, I’ll be pulling out chairs… and opening doors, laying down my jacket to help you over puddles . All of it, till you’re just sick to death of it. Just you fucking wait…”

“I suppose I could learn to live with it…” Steve said, rolling his eyes before laying one last kiss on Eddie’s stupid, perfect grin.

fin ~

Merry Holidays Sunflower!

[lxvebun]

in sickness and in health♡

synopsis: JJK boys nursing you back to health<3

content: Gojo/Geto/Nanami/Hiromi x gender neutral reader. Fluff+ comfort. Common fever symptoms. Painkillers. The boys are very doting<3 lots of petnames: (my) love, sweetheart, honey, angel, baby. Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes♡ 2.6k words<3 forgive the odd mistake here and there. Eepy

“Oh, my sweet angel, look at you” Satoru coos, voice velvet and soft. You think he takes some kind of wicked satisfaction out of this. Seeing you curled up in your shared bed, sniffling lightly to clear your nose, buried under the thick covers, cocooned in his sweater…

He wants you safe and healthy, truly, but this is the only time you really let him dote and care for you to his heart's content. You’re usually so quick to brush him off, turning shy under the way he looks at you. It's not a secret Gojo can be very intense. Often gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him, like he wants to serve you everything good down on his knees and on a silver platter. That shyness is gone, for now. Mind and body being too occupied and focused on fighting off the fever to care and he’ll indulge in every moment he can get from it.

“Luckily for you, i’m here to nurse you back to health”

“Go away.” Your voice is croaky and sore and completely lacking any sincerity.

“Sorry, I know I'm missing the nurse outfit. Next time, I promise”

Unless his ears are deceiving him he’s sure that he heard a small giggle coming from you, the mountain of blankets you're currently covered under however does a fantastic job at dulling the melodic sound.

“I brought you some tea. Extra honey~♡"

You don’t really reply, it’s a hum and a nod here and there but he knows you’re grateful. It’s the little signs that show him, your eyes tracing his every step, looking at him so lovingly as he places the tea down on your nightstand and crouches down next to you. The longer he looks at you however, sky blue eyes all soft and cloudy while you feel icky and anything but pretty makes you find solace in the blankets your under, pulling them up and using them as a shield to cover half your face

“C’mon, don’t hide from me” It comes out as a playful whine more than anything

“You’re too pretty for that.” His fingertips trace over the edge of the fabric, right where it meets your skin and you can see that stupid, completely fabricated pout begin to pull at his lips. You hate how it actually works

You roll your eyes as you swat the blanket off and sit up straight, ignoring the dizziness from the sickness and the way your heart flutters at the sight of him lighting up.

“I’m sick, Toru. don’t feel very pretty at the moment.”You mumble, but more audible now that the blankets are off

“Feeling and being are two very different things, baby.” He chides gently as he hands you your tea, fingertips holding the hot mug by the rim so you can safely grab it by the handle, clicking his tongue as he sees you reach for the mug itself instead. He lets go when you have a good grip on it. 

Making himself comfortable on the bed, sitting next to your legs, he lets you fall into a comfortable silence for a bit. sipping quietly on your tea while he feels just a tad bit jealous of the steam caressing your skin.

“Now,” he begins. “I need you to remember how much you love me and how much of a good, amazing, caring boyfriend I am.”

Your body immediately stills, mug still raised halfway to your lips as you squint your eyes at him.

“What did you do?”

The sympathetic smile he throws your way in silent apology does little to ease your nerves and then, slender fingers dipping into his pocket, he fishes out exactly what that smile was for

“Absolutely not”

“It will make you feel so much better, baby !!”

You flinch back as he shakes that horrendously yellow box in front of your face. Cough syrup, the disgusting, bitter, “are we sure it’s not actually poison” kind

“Please, Satoru,” you plead but it goes ignored

he’s already opening the box </3

( you have three options Y/N. take it like champ, have him play airplane with you, or get him to feed it to you baby bird style) geto/nanami and hiromi under the cut !! ♡

Geto 

You can almost hear the “I told you so” spill from his lips as he enters your shared home and finds you bundled up in a heated blanket on the couch with a wet cloth on your forehead. He did tell you to dress warmer on your little cafe hopping spree, did tell you to bring an umbrella with you just in case, “it’s just a sprinkle of rain, if anything” you’d countered

Luckily for you, Suguru is too sweet to tease you about it, especially in the state you’re in. Shivering but hot, little coughs spilling from your throat making your entire body ache.

He’s on you in the blink of an eye, shrugging his own jacket off and toeing his shoes off in the process before he finds himself crouched down in front of you, brows furrowed and golden eyes carrying a tinge of worry.

You’re exhausted, the bags under your eyes prove that if the fact that you can barely keep your eyes open wasn’t clear enough. You make a little hum of acknowledgement to his presence. Still sounding surprisingly content despite the soreness in your throat

“Hi, Sweetheart. Can I check your temperature?” Suguru keeps his voice soft, feathery and barely above a whisper. God, just the sound of his voice has a soothing effect on you.

You nod slowly, your throat hurting too much to speak. Usually he’d wish for you to use your words to be sure you’re actually okay with what he’s doing, be it a hug, a touch or a kiss, but he’ll let that go for now.

He’s gentle in the way he cradles your head, and his hands feel nice and cool against your flushed skin. A sigh of ease escapes your throat involuntarily as you lean more into him.

“You’re very hot ... .warm-” he corrects himself, already seeing that teasing smile on your lips, usually he’d indulge in a bit of banter but he’d rather not add any stress to your throat “- did you take any painkillers yet?”

You nod again

That’s good, of course, he’s glad you have taken them by yourself, knowing how much you hate it, but it makes him a little antsy. It obviously hasn’t improved your state yet and there’s not a whole lot he can do for you now. He takes his eyes off of you for a moment

Something you despise really

Turning things over in his head, feeling a little useless before he turns his gaze back on you. Pressing a kiss to your cheek and taking the now warmed up cloth from your forehead

“I’m going to get you a new cold cloth and then we can watch a movie, yeah? See how you feel in a few hours and if you can keep some food down”

He’s up and gone towards the kitchen before you get the chance to give him any sign of approval. You settle into the blankets a bit more, twisting your body and stretching out your sore muscles. You still feel sick, the world around you a little fuzzy, skin a little clammy but now that Suguru is home, it’s almost as if your body and mind realise that you’ll be just fine. A wave of relief washes over you, head becoming a little more foggy as you think of how safe he makes you feel

He’s quick to come back, with a few extra painkillers and a cup of tea as well

You’re still in that syrupy sweet mindset as he enters your view again and it must have shown because he looks a little surprised before his features turn soft at the way you’re gazing at him. Eyes a little glassy but so full of adoration, gratefulness, almost enough to pull him into a trance and make him kiss you silly because truly there’s nothing to thank him for. He loves caring for you.

( He’d break his own ribs and split his heart in two if it helped yours beat.)

Almost. The need to nurse you back to health first is just a tad stronger. You both have to settle for a sweet kiss to your forehead before he places the fresh cold cloth on it again.

(there will be enough time to make up for all the missed kisses when you’re rested and healthy again prepare yourself)

Nanami

He feels utterly horrible for not realizing you were sick. Having left early in the morning, rushing to work because a mistake only he could fix was made. He blames it on the sleep clouding his eyes and mind for not noticing your lack of response to him getting out of bed or the quick kiss he pressed to your cheek before rushing out the door.

Blames it on the agitation seeping into his bones as this, very preventable, mistake will take hours of scrutinizing stacks of paperwork and documents to fix, leaving him radio silent for the bigger part of the day, not once thinking about the fact that you haven’t send him you’re usual messages yet. A cute picture of yourself eating breakfast, asking him if he’s eating around lunch time…. Your lack of presence should have run multiple alarm bells. He was tired, annoyed, stressed....

It’s not an excuse, he should have been home sooner

He reminds himself of that as he finds you balled up on the bed, empty packets of pain relief on the floor, a cup of tea cold and half drunk on your nightstand

(He winces at the image of you having to get up on shaky legs to make yourself some tea)

Blankets thrown a mess from your shifting and fidgeting while trying to find a comfortable position and the tissues overflowing the bin next to you. His heart picks up in pace as he sees a few bloodied ones among the pile

“Oh, honey, I’m so so sorry” he’s a bit frenzied in his movements as he kneels beside the bed, cradling your face in his hands and pressing a plethora of apologetic kisses into your hot skin. A silent apology for leaving you alone all day, although he knows it’s not enough.

You try to shake your head, wanting to assure him there’s nothing to be sorry for, but he stills it for you

“Dont. I should have been here to take care of you. Where did the blood come from?”

“S’just a nosebleed. Must have blown to hard” you’re voice is weak, most of your energy drained by the fever.

His hands, still holding you, relax a little at your words.

“Tell me what you need, my love. How can I help?” it comes out breathy, desperate. The stress from work, the stress from seeing the love of his life sick bleeding over into his voice.

“Wanna cuddle”

He’s up in a heartbeat, hastily ripping his tie off, and undressing himself from his work clothes before sliding into bed next to you and scooping you up into strong, safe arms. Pressing another kiss to your forehead for good measure.

“Do you need anything else?”

You hum, sliding your arms out from under the blankets onto his side of the bed and under his pillow, with shaky hands fishing out his book from underneath it

“Read to me”

He smiles softly as he takes the book from your hands, but you don’t see it, already finding your place in the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths of his cologne and focusing on the way he’s rubbing up and down your back.

You know reading relaxes him. Really you’re a fucking dream, an angel to still take care of him in your feverish state.

“Of course. Just focus on resting and the sound of my voice”

(need him to kiss me silly right now)

Hiromi

“You should have called me, darling. I would have come home earlier” Hiromi expresses with unease. Disdain at the fact that you hid your fever from him is clear in his expression. Even worse how you acted like nothing was wrong over your text messages, sounding as bubbly and sweet as ever as you asked him if he’d eaten yet, when he’ll come home and that he needs to take it easy.

He needs to take it easy? When he came home, You were attempting to begin cooking dinner on shaky legs, swaddled in a blanket to ease the shivering. The fact you’re out of bed at all makes him anxious.

“Didn’t want to bother you-” 

“Sweetheart,” he’s quick to interrupt, hating the implication that you could ever be a bother to him.

“It’s just a cold, Hiromi” you send a small smile his way but your voice is slurred and unsteady. Your claim that “it's just a cold” lacks evidence in his opinion.

He can practically see the heat pouring off of you but you feel nothing but a freezing cold nipping at your skin, even when bundled into a thick throw blanket and fuzzy woolen socks. You're shaking like a leaf and your movements are sluggish. You just look so tired, his poor angel :(

“Think it’s more than just a cold, darling” he's gentle as he grabs your hand, warm, and pulls you closer to him. Fixing the blanket that's threatening to slip of your shoulders before pressing loud, wet kiss to your cheek “let’s get you back into bed”

You whine in response, ready to remove yourself from his grip but he won’t let you. Not necessarily to control you but purely because it looks like you’re ready to faint any second now.

“You need to eat, Hiro”

“So, we'll order something from your favorite place, hmm? Although their desserts are probably not the best thing to be eating right now, i’ll turn a blind eye” he teases as he leads you to the bedroom to tuck you safe and sound back under the blankets.

“Instigator” you mumble as he raises the comforter for you to climb under, waiting until you’ve settled comfortably before tucking it up to your chin.

“I plead the fifth”

He turns to make his way out of the bedroom again after he sees you’re doing okay and are comfortable. You can hear him turn on the kettle, water slowly coming to a boil, the heavy thump of his briefcase being placed on the table. You cringe a little. You can tell that he has brought a lot of work home again..

He comes back with tea in one hand, a stack of papers and stationary in the other. Placing the tea down next to you, mumbling to let it cool down first, he places the papers and stationary on his side of the bed.  You realize he’s planning on working on his files and cases next to you. He’s so sweet. Too sweet for his own good, able to make your heart all warm and fluttery even amidst sickness, but at the same time it makes you feel like you’re overburdening him (not that that exists in his opinion)

“I’m sure the kitchen table will be more comfortable, Hiro” you speak, as you watch him place one of the bedside table lamps on the floor. This way it’s dim enough for you to sleep and bright enough for him to work and not strain his eyes too much.

“I think i’d be more comfortable next to you, actually”

You sigh, secretly glad he’s staying

“I don’t deserve you”

“Stop that.” Voice firm, leaving no room for arguments “of course, you do. Now try and get some rest, food should be here in an hour” he climbs next to you in bed, although unlike you, decides to sit on top of the covers. He’s already engrossed in his paperwork and honestly, you’ve always found it an attractive sight to see him work, focused and diligent, but especially now as you notice he has shed his suit and tie for a loose white t and some joggers. If you weren't sick you’d kiss him breathless *threateningly*

“You’re very pretty, you know that?”

He hums in response, turning his face to the side, acting as if he’s searching for another file to hide the smile threatening to pull at his lips.

“Think you're suffering from fever induced hallucinations-"

"Hey, now-

You begin to sit up but he's quick to gently push you back down. Intertwining one of his hands with yours, tracing invisible heart shapes with his thumb. He starts to think he should do this more often. Working next to you somehow makes even the toughest, most dreading cases seem like a breeze to work through

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up~♡"

Thank you for reading!!<3

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - you don’t need me

Chris was easily one of your bestest friends. Having met in high school through some mutual friends, you both had clicked with your similar interests. Your friendship easily carried into your adult years even after those same friends who introduced you fell out of the friend group.

It was always you and chris — chris and you. You stuck together through ups and downs, good times and bad times. There was hardly anything that could separate you two from each other — not even his brothers who you grew close too as well. You told each other everything — who you hooked up with, things you needed help with, everything.

But that all started to change when chris met her — scarlet. When they started officially dating is when chris seemed to become more distant from you, spending more time with her. Sure you didn’t mind much, considering the fact that she is chris’ girlfriend — he’d want to spend a lot of his time with her and you didn’t mind.

But what made you upset was the lack of communication on his end — never texting you to tell you if he’s busy or when he’s going to be. You just wanted to know so you weren’t trying to ruin the plans he may have already made — it didn’t help that scarlet wasn’t any good either.

So here you were, staring down at your phone, feeling the familiar ache when Chris leaves your message unread yet again. It’s been like this since he started dating her. You’d tried to stay supportive, happy for him when he met someone new. But the excitement quickly faded as she became less of a girlfriend and more of a wedge between you and Chris.

The first time you had noticed her attitude was at one of Chris’s hangouts. You had walked over, ready to grab a drink from the table when she suddenly stepped in front of you with a saccharine smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Oh,” she’d said, eyeing you up and down, “I didn’t know Chris invited… everyone.” She’d tilted her head in mock confusion, clearly implying you didn’t belong. You had brushed it off at first, laughing it away, figuring she was just getting used to Chris’s friends.

But it didn’t stop. Every time you were around her, she found ways to make you feel out of place. One night when you and chris had gone to dinner with a few friends, she slid up next to you while you were getting food, making sure no one was watching while she looked over at you as if she was inspecting you.

“Do you really need another plate?” she’d asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just… some people don’t know when enough is enough, you know?” her words dripped with malice, it made you feel uneasy.

The comment left you speechless, stinging more than you wanted to admit. But you kept it to yourself, not wanting to stir up drama. Chris deserved to be happy, and if she made him happy, you could put up with her snide remarks. Or so you told yourself.

One afternoon, you decided to meet Chris at a coffee shop to catch up, just the two of you, like old times. But when you arrived, she was there, sitting next to him with a possessive arm looped through his. Her eyes tracked you as you approached, a slow, mocking smile spreading across her face.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said, her tone dripping with false warmth. “Chris didn’t tell me you were coming. I thought this was, you know, our time.” the disgust on her face was clear, to you at least. A frown pulled across your face — why couldn’t it just be you and him without her?

Chris, oblivious as ever, just shrugged, looking between the two of you with an awkward smile. “I thought it’d be fun if we all hung out.” he said, his free hand coming up to run through his hair — a habit he did when he was nervous. You went to speak, lips parting but were quickly cut off.

She didn’t let you get a word in. “Actually, babe, I think we had plans later… but it’s okay,” she said, her gaze flicking back to you with a knowing smirk. “Maybe next time you can give us a little heads-up before you just… drop in.”

You forced a smile, feeling that familiar, nauseating sense of discomfort settling in as you took a seat across from the both of them. “Of course. I didn’t mean to intrude.” you muttered, quickly picking up the menu to order something — your talking plans were ruined.

After that, her taunts became a regular part of your life. She’d bump into you at parties, slyly insult your outfit or make snide comments about how “clingy” you were to Chris. And every time, Chris seemed too blind—or too charmed—to see through her sweet facade. It hurt, but you kept swallowing it down, determined not to let her get to you — and god was it a bitter pill to swallow.

One night, Chris invited you to another party at his place, saying he missed hanging out like old times. You had agreed, hoping that maybe — just maybe — this time would be different, maybe she’d lay off for the night. But when you arrived, you noticed the way she lingered by his side, whispering in his ear as her eyes flicked toward you, a glint of triumph in her gaze.

You managed to avoid her for most of the night, sticking with other friends and keeping yourself occupied with the drinks and the snacks the were laid out on the counter in the kitchen — or just busting yourself with dancing. But when you headed to the kitchen for another drink, she followed, cornering you by the counter.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely masking the hostility beneath her smile. “You’re still hanging around like a little lost puppy. Does Chris know how desperate you are to get his attention?” her words left you speechless, stabbing you in the chest. Does she just think that’s all you are? — an attention whore?

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up in your chest. “I’m not desperate for anything. Chris and I have been friends for years.” you gritted out, your words almost lost to the music — but you knew she heard what you said.

She laughed, tilting her head with a pitying look. “Friends, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But here’s the thing. He doesn’t need you anymore. So why don’t you do us both a favor and stop acting like you belong here?”

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and hurt swirling inside you. Every ounce of restraint you had kept you from firing back. But it was getting harder to stay quiet, harder to brush off the blatant cruelty.

Instead of responding, you pushed past her — your shoulder shoving into her’s harshly, heading outside to get some air, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. It was one thing for her to be possessive or rude, but to imply that your friendship with Chris didn’t matter hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You went home early that night, ignoring the questions from friends and the puzzling look chris had given you when you got into your car and drove home. As you drove — you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact as to why she didn’t like you. You never did anything to her, you’ve been nothing but nice.

When you climbed into bed that night — your tears soaked your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

A few days later, you finally decided to talk to Chris alone. You messaged him, asking if he could come over to your place to talk, and to your relief, he agreed. There’s a knock at your door sometime later — your body moving toward the front door. You take a deep breath, firmly gripping the door handle you open it, and there he was, standing with his hands in his pockets, a faint look of regret in his eyes.

Does he know?

You step aside, letting him slip in past you as he flashed you a smile. Closing the door behind you, you walk to the living room — chris following behind as he takes a seat on the couch next to you. He didn’t say anything for a moment — this look in his eyes that made you frown was hard to read.

“It’s been a while..” he muttered and you forced a smile, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to already spill over. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “Chris, I… I need to talk to you about scarlet.” you whispered, sucking in another deep breath.

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “What about her?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, gathering your thoughts. “She… she’s not as nice as you think she is, Chris. She goes out of her way to make me feel like I don’t belong around you anymore. It’s constant.” the words made your chest feel tight — you can’t believe you’re even saying this.

He frowned, leaning back on the couch. “I think you’re overreacting. She’s never said anything bad about you to me.” he points out — his reply only making your tone harsher,

“Of course she wouldn’t,” you replied, frustration bubbling up. “She does it when you’re not around. It’s not little stuff, Chris. She’s cruel. She treats me like… like I’m just some random person getting in the way.” your voice strained, throat threatening to close up on you as you continued to hold back your emotions.

Chris looked away, shaking his head. “Look, I know she has a strong personality, but she wouldn’t just bully you for no reason. Maybe she’s just protective.” he tried to reason. You felt your heart sink, his words hitting you like a cold splash of reality. “Protective? Chris, I’m your friend. I’ve always been there for you. I’m not some threat.” you watched his face twist — he wasn’t understanding it.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It just feels like… maybe this isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it.” you swallowed the hurt, nodding slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe… maybe you just don’t need me around anymore.”

You stood up, tears slipping down your face now as you looked down at him, feeling like you were watching the end of something you’d held so close for so long. “Wait, come on, you know it’s not like that,” he protested, standing up a flicker of panic crossing his face.

But you just shook your head, forcing a smile through your tears. “I thought you’d have my back, Chris. I thought I mattered enough to you. But I can’t keep fighting for a place in your life when it’s this one-sided.”

He steps closer, reaching for your hand, but you pull away. The distance between you feels insurmountable, like an ocean too wide to cross. He’s standing right in front of you, and yet he’s never felt so far.

There’s a long silence as he looks down to the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” he mumbled, a hand running through his hair — something you’ve grown so used to, but may not ever get to see again.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Chris — or her.” you whisper, feeling the weight of those words settle in your chest. His head raised to look at you — the reality settling into him. He knew — he knew what was happening and he feels so stupid for not noticing anything sooner, maybe you were right. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Without another word, you walked to your front door — opening it as you looked back at chris, his feet moving him slowly. You were still crying — your chest aching with pain as he got closer. When he passed by you, stepping onto your front porch — he looked over his shoulder.

“I love you.” was all he said before walking away. The words settling in like a final goodbye, the tears flowing harder than ever now. As you closed the door, you realized that this was you letting him go — maybe for good — leaving behind the person you’d once called your best friend.

© strnilolover

[sturnioz]

We need more ps!chris

FEED US PLEASEEEEE

what about how it all started, I mean, how Chris decided to start as a pornstar

— how pornstar!chris started ! [i made a mistake btw. he should be called onlyfans!chris cos he only posts on twitter and onlyfans. but im dumb so]

☆ chris was in extreme need of money. the job he had as a waiter was barely putting any money into his pocket even though he was taking on other peoples shifts and asking for more hours. he had enough to pay for rent and groceries, which truthfully is more important than anything else, but he still wanted to treat himself like any other human being would.

☆ he was aware of twitter porn, and he was very much aware of onlyfans. he never really thought to put himself out there like that until he came across a post on tiktok listening to someone talk about how much money they had made posting... and that got his brain thinking.

☆ chris didn't post straight away. he thought about it for awhile, weighing the pros and cons. he knows he's attractive and he knows he's hung in a humble way, he definitely has the assets to make at least a few bucks. but the cons of people finding out who he is — for his family and his restaurant job to find out — that scared him a lot.

☆ it took chris over a month and a half to work up the courage to do it. he was desperate. so he decided to make an account on onlyfans and twitter, at first only posting videos below the chest. he wouldn't speak or show his face, only letting out a few subtle grunts and moans whenever he touched himself.

☆ he found it awkward at first because cumming in front of a camera was a lot difficult than he originally thought. he watched porn to get himself hard before setting up the camera and doing his thing, but he ended up getting camera shy a few times and stuffed the failed videos into a hidden folder on his computer.

☆ however, despite a few mishaps, chris made so much money. more money than he'd ever seen in his life. people were getting off to faceless videos of him? they were paying him for more content? he became a favourite so quick on twitter, and the number of followers/subscribers continued to rise day by day.

☆ due to being so entirely grateful for his following, chris started kissing the camera. he would still hide his face, only showing a brief few second clip of his lips as he kissed the lens — that immediately became a favourite, so he made sure to continuously kiss the camera right before the video ended.

☆ it took chris a few more months to actually speak. murmuring soft praises, telling his viewers how close he was to cumming, how he's doing all this for them. but unfortunately a co-worker of his at the restaurant recognised his voice, and they immediately cornered him at work the next day.

☆ surprisingly, chris wasn't as embarrassed as he thought he'd be, and the co-worker did promise to keep it a secret from everyone — but chris didn't really want to take that risk. so he quit his job. he was fortunate to have the money to do so.

☆ he did end up explaining to his brothers when they questioned him about why he quit his job over dinner (which was funny because nick screamed 'WHAT' and matt choked on his drink) but they were supportive of their brother !! and they had zero problems with it, only telling him to be safe.

☆ chris got more and more comfortable over time, and that's when he started showing his face... and of course, that got him even more recognition for his attractive appearance. a few people noticed who he was though, that was a given, and he did have a few side eyes and interesting paragraphed texts from people he knew. but more importantly, his family supported him, and thats all he really cared about.

[redflagshipwriter]

check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next? 

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically. 

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet. 

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.” 

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games. 

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him. 

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized. 

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged. 

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???” 

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?” 

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.” 

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted. 

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.” 

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.” 

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started.