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junislqve · 3 days

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ᯓ million dollar — ot7

syn when the members spend their (unlimited) money on you. (1770 words)

pairs richboy!members + reader | cw mentions of money petnames — mlist navi

notes richboy members are having a chokehold on me lately

LEE HEESEUNG

“take as much time as you want, love”

earlier that day, you were scouring your closet for a decent dress. flipping through the same five for the past hour.

your boyfriend, grumbling about how you should get back to bed, watched as you pick up the same clothes. his eyes never leaving your figure, staring up at you through the mirror you were using to look at the picks.

heeseung slowly got up and hugged you from behind, burying his head on your neck. kissing your shoulder blades up to the back of your ear.

“do you need a new dress, love?”

after very few talking from heeseung and much more complaints from you, he somehow convinced you to get ready.

and that is how you’ve ended up in one of the famous streets in your city. lined up with the prettiest boutiques and malls.

heeseung wrapped his hands around yours and walked to a favorite store of yours. remembering how you’ve ever mentioned how badly you wanted to go back and buy something from it, months ago.

walking in, your small pout turned into the biggest, heart-pounding grin he’s ever seen. he bit his lip containing his own smile and dug out his wallet.

“spend it all on anything you want, baby”

PARK JONGSEONG

as a musician, looking at instruments is like strolling through heaven. admiring all the small intricate details engraved.

jay loved his guitars like it was his own child, he understands what it’s like to spend thousand and even more on just a single guitar. not that it would do anything to his bank.

you’ve never really asked jay for anything for as long as you’ve been dating. rather using your own money to buy whatever you want than letting your boyfriend buy it for you.

it wasn’t like jay didn’t want you to buy things using his card, he actually offers it most times than not. it was you who never lets him buy anything for you.

“use my card to buy the groceries, babe”

you refused to take his card whenever you could. because of this, jay has learned to pay without you knowing. usually when your back is turned or when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

right now, your boyfriend is tagging along with you as you browse through the island of pianos; ranging from yamaha to bluthner.

you stopped abruptly as your eyes fell on a piano that had you immediately captivated, from the design of the lid to the shape of the pedals, you thought it was the most beautiful piano you’ve ever seen.

when you were admiring the piano, trying out the keys and sitting on the soft cushion of the chair. you failed to realize your boyfriend had silently called the seller and slid his card. smiling down at your frowning figure.

“it’ll arrive by tomorrow morning, love”

SIM JAEYUN

“but you look so good in these, babe”

opening your apartment door with a click, the lights turned on to greet you with the copious amounts of packages laid on your living room.

the packages were of different sizes and stacked side by side. what’s worse is that you can’t remember buying all of the things you did, having to open up each package to know what and when you bought them.

you called up your boyfriend, who had brought in all of your packages earlier in the day when he paid a visit to your unit to pick up a small bag you forgot to bring.

“i seriously need to go on a ban”

“no you don’t baby, besides, you use my card when you buy anything” jake says, laying his head atop yours as he turned on a movie an hour ago to stop your fussing.

“that’s not the point, jake. i need to stop buying random things online. i can’t keep flooding my bedroom” you sigh.

“then just put the things you don’t like anymore in my apartment, you’ll have more space that way” jake smiles down at you, kissing your temples.

that was one week ago. somehow, he had convinced you to ‘accompany’ him on a late night rendezvous to prada. it was all fine at first when he was just looking at the suits. but now, he’s trying to convince you to buy two pairs of their new summer series glasses.

“i can buy this next time, babe” you finally say, sighing, after letting him talk about all the new luxury pieces of the summer set, desperately trying to talk his way into letting him buy you one.

“oh” he trails off, a sheepish grin creeping up on his face “about that, i’ve already paid”

PARK SUNGHOON

as a person who always loved the mountains, you find yourself spending weekends driving up one usually catching the sunset. this was already a routine even before you met sunghoon.

and now, you still kept up that routine whenever you weren’t too busy, your boyfriend always opting to tag along despite his complaints about being too tired. he wouldn’t actually pass up an opportunity to be with you.

you always loved traveling, within the city and during long holidays, out. liking the feeling of driving past the roads and seeing the scenery once the mountains come into view.

when sunghoon found out about this interest of yours, he started searching up for places with the most beautiful mountain sceneries. over the past years, he’s taken you to numerous countrysides and mountaintops inside and outside of the country.

even when you say it was fine if you were to only travel within the country, he loves seeing the way your eyes widen adorably during a gorgeous sunset that would rarely happen in-country. that’s why, the moment he tracks down a specific date that you both were going to be free for at least three days, sunghoon would immediately book a ticket to whatever country he’s been searching up.

on a random afternoon, sunghoon knocks on your bedroom door, walking in your apartment. as you open the door, there he stood with a big suitcase and that sweet smile of his.

“better pack up now, baby. we’re leaving in a few hours”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo knows you more than you know yourself, he’s quick to learn your body language and certain expressions you make.

it’s really hard to lie to him when he knows how to poke at you the right way to make you open up about your worries.

sometimes he just lets you have it, he knows you would at one point tell him about the things you’re going through. he trusts you on that.

but at times, he knows when you need a bit more of a cheer up. sunoo loves spending his money on you, buying you clothes, makeup, accessories. one of the things he realizes is that you love wearing jewelry. finishing up an outfit by adding a necklace or bracelets along your arm. that conveniently also accentuates your features.

he spends alot of time with you picking out sets for outfits you were going to wear for upcoming events. jewelry, he realizes is one of the things that can easily cheer you up, besides himself, of course.

so as the sweet boyfriend he is, sunoo dragged you to the jewelry store despite your sulks. and the moment your eyes laid on the glittering pearls, all of your problems seem to dissipate. just like how your boyfriend had expected.

with a giggle, sunoo starts asking the seller to bring out the full set for you to try on. patting you on the head as you continue to stare at the long rows of necklaces.

“buy whatever you want, okay? after this we can cuddle for as long as you need”

YANG JUNGWON

he would remember everything you’ve ever said to him. you like sweets? he remembers. you like flowery perfume? he remembers. you like that one specific lipstick brand that’s best bought in singapore? he remembers.

it’s not odd to get home to a bunch off boxes filled with gifts and food and random things whenever jungwon’s just went home from a trip anywhere.

anything you’ve said even before you two were dating seems to be engraved in his head like muscle memory. he can be strolling through a street market in japan and a small store would catch his eye, the next moment you would find his hands filled with keychains of a cartoon character you said you liked years ago.

his job requires him to fly countries often and it used to be a problem for you both as it means you can’t really meet him as much. but after years, both you and jungwon still communicate alot. him usually asking to facetime you at random hours of the day or night and sending you pictures of what he was doing.

both of you readjusted quite well to this arrangement and thankfully his work doesn’t demand a long period of time during those trips.

“babe there’s no way i can finish all of this by myself” you laugh seeing all of the things he bought you.

“then we can finish them together” he says, dimples peeking out through the smile “that way i can come by more often”

NISHIMURA RIKI

as days start to get more busy, you and your boyfriend find yourselves going on a short getaway to the outskirts of the city.

he showed up at your apartment one night and pulled you out of it with no explanation. you weren’t going to question him though, letting him take you wherever.

you both ended up on a train station, waiting for the last train to arrive. about an hour later, you landed on a small, but really nice accommodation.

the moment you stepped in the room, riki launched himself on the bed sighing in content.

“i want to live here forever” he mumbles out against one of the pillows.

“we both still have school tomorrow” you sat on the bed beside him, opening up your phone to continue the essay you were working on. only for it to be tackled down a second later, your boyfriend pulling you to lay down beside him.

silence filled the room, only yours and your boyfriend’s soft breathing. riki mumbled something against your hair. you hummed in question.

“let’s get room service” he says. you knew it was going to happen, it always happened. but here you are, sat on the hotel chair with too much food both of you know you can’t finish. he had a habit of buying you whatever he thought you’d like and it wasn’t like he’s wrong. the bowls of food on the table are all your favorites and you don’t even know where to start.

he really doesn’t spend much on things, but he loves going on little getaways with you every once in a while. sleeping on the comfiest beds (besides his or yours) and eating room service. something about it just brings a peaceful kind of silence for him.

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rosesaints · 3 days

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* game, set, match!

pairing: gojo satoru / f!reader / geto suguru rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) word count: 6.0k warnings: heavily inspired by challengers, infidelity, freaks matching each other's freaks, threesome, fingering, fem receiving!oral, feral geto and gojo, size difference, pussy eating, so much sexual tension it's crazy

SET ONE

G. Satoru: 0-0

G. Suguru: 0-0

It’s the final match of the U.S. Open.

You sit front row center at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, shaky hands fiddling with the hem of your white dress. You force them to still, eyeing the sparkling spectacle of a diamond ring on your finger before looking up to see a few cameras pointed at your spot on the sidelines. It makes you sit up straighter, chin held high.

Journalists have become increasingly brutal these days, especially after your marriage to Geto. There are articles upon articles that have cemented your reputation as this unbreakable, unreadable coach—you will not sacrifice that today.

When you finally spare a glance at the court, you know that this is unlike any other match you’ve seen before. Their long standing rivalry finally comes to a glaringly tense standstill as they prepare for the toss.

There, on opposite sides were two of the greatest tennis players in the world standing across from each other from opposite sides of the net, looking like they’re about to fight to the death.

The tension is palpable; you can feel it in the way the linesmen on the court stand stick straight under the blistering heat of the sun, the ball boys crouching low to the ground, ready to run for the ball at any moment like a taut string waiting to snap. The umpire presiding high above the court in his chair clears his throat. “Gojo Satoru has won the toss. Electing to serve first.”

Gojo Satoru is the best player the world has ever seen. The strongest, the most decorated by nearly every measure, a talent that this generation has never seen before, powerful, proud, confident.

There’s countless documentaries and books about his playing style, his life on the court, off the court and he holds millions of dollars worth in sponsorships, and he carries himself with the easy knowledge that there’s no one else in the tennis world who can even come close to challenging him.

(It’s the life you could’ve had.)

He sees you at the edge of his periphery, and grins at the familiarity of it all. Once again, your two boys on the court, like they’re playing for a chance with you all over again. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, eyeing the destination of Gojo’s gaze. It makes him grip his racket tighter, knuckles going white.

When you found your way back to Geto all those years ago, he was already an amazing player in his own right but he was always stuck under Gojo’s shadow during his years as a junior. He had been content to take Gojo’s seconds.

But with you—Geto crept quietly and restlessly up the tennis world rankings during the past five years, deceptively and quietly taking home slams of his own underneath Gojo’s vast shadow until he became a true rival. It’s the first time that they’ve faced off in years, and you would be a liar if you said it doesn’t have your heart drumming in your chest.

Whether it’s from fear or excitement, you cannot say.

You know Geto like the palm of your hand. Geto’s opponent knows him like the other piece of his soul.

Gojo bends his knees. He knows all of Geto’s weaknesses, strengths, exactly what makes him tick. Which is why he goes for the underhand.

For a moment, the ball suspends in the air, and with a snap of his wrist, sends a red hot 160 mph serve towards Geto. His serve is short, low, fast, and wide. It whips so quickly that Geto has to scramble to meet the ball, but he receives it with just as much startling power—an intense volley begins.

A few days ago, Gojo animatedly and vividly described all the ways in which he intended to deliver a swift and decisive victory in his favor. The column of his throat had bobbed as he laughed, head falling back, as if this was nothing serious to him, something expected and guaranteed. “I plan on decimating Getou Suguru.”

You let your eyes close and exhale.

You know Geto’s more than capable of stepping to the challenge. You wouldn’t have coached him, wouldn’t have accepted his proposal, and taken his last name if you didn’t think so. But one glance—

On Gojo’s side, you make eye contact with a certain pale-haired man that’s been staring daggers at you the whole day. He looks straight through you with an intensity that would make any other person tremble. His eyes are aflame, daring and demanding you to see him.

A split second, and—you remember the way his warm breath lingered on your neck the night before, the desperate way you clawed onto his back, moaning, crooning his name as if it was the only language you knew. Gojo’s maneuvering one of your legs onto his shoulder to reach you deeper, and you’re close, getting oh-so-close, and the smug son of a bitch knows it. Licks a hot and downright filthy stripe up the shell of your ear, causing shivers to reverberate throughout your spine.

You can still feel his sharp grin on your skin, goosebumps following the trail of your thoughts.

That’s the thing about Gojo. He demands, demands, and demands, restlessly and unequivocally. It’s what initially drew you and Geto to him in the first place, a painstaking desire to become the best.

It’s an intense moment, causing you to sit ramrod straight for just a moment, until you feel another set of eyes on you. Your husband. Geto’s jaw tenses.

When it’s Geto’s turn to serve, you gaze at the strengthened profile of his back, as if renewed. He’s given two balls with ease, gripping one silently, tossing the other one back, frowning as he faces his opponent. Dribbles the ball. Gets into the position to serve. You know that frown. (You wore that frown nearly seven years ago. You were good, really good. But that was a long time ago.)

For a moment, you inhale in anticipation, as he lets the ball up in the air. It almost feels like he’s going to serve it to you.

─────── · ·

Seven years ago. Japan Open Boys Doubles Final.

“40–30.”

The sun is unforgiving at this time of the day. It’s scorching hot, and Geto feels a sheen of sweat drip down his forehead to his upper lip, then to the hard ground underneath him. If he had to guess, there were about a hundred people in the stands. To his front, Gojo’s in the receiving stance, eagerly shifting his weight between the balls of his foot in anticipation.

Under the rays of the sun, back rippling with glorious tension, fingers thrumming on the handle of his racket, he thinks that Gojo looks magnificent.

It’s the final set, and they’re at match point. Geto’s muscles ache under the strain of a long, long match and he’s ready to get this over with.

He steps up to the line and prepares to serve, and he knows that Gojo’s grinning ear to ear, crouched low to the ground. The weight of the ball is light in his fingertips. Let’s win this, he remembers his words from earlier that morning. And let’s win every damn game together after.

To everyone else watching, Geto is a beautiful player. He’s all methodical and precise strokes, he can hit a mean groundstroke, and sometimes his serves can reach 120 mph. There are dozens of colleges who have sent him offers and he reckons that he’s up in the rankings after their performance this week.

But he doesn’t even begin to hold a candle to the beauty with which Gojo plays. He’s wild and intuitive in each shot, dive, slice. There are nights when he obsessively plays back the ways that his best friend plays, and his heart aches.

Haven’t you ever wanted to be number one?

He serves the ball and watches as it soars to the other side of the net. The other doubles pair receives.

Geto is faced with the fact that Gojo is something else, simply on another level: he’s an absolute monster on the court, adaptable and innovative with his racket in ways that have never been seen before. He watches, entranced as his partner moves like a rocket, rapidly zipping the tennis balls on his side of the court, collapsing the other duo’s defenses. They’re getting tired and sloppy, and he knows the end is near.

Years of playing together have led them to a mindless, easy synchronization, in the middle of a ruthless volley. It’s so easy to get lost when it’s with Gojo. Somebody once asked the two of them during a conference after a game about how they reached this point of trust and telepathy.

Gojo had cackled then, shrugging lightly. “We’re just better at tennis.”

It’s Gojo who wins them the game with a brutal dropshot. Geto can hear their opponents’ hearts stop in their chests.

“Game, set, and match, Geto and Gojo,” The umpire reads off their victory as Gojo rushes toward him, absolutely vibrating with glee. It takes him half a second to jump into Geto’s arms, and he allows himself to breathlessly laugh and bask in what they’ve accomplished together. Above him, Gojo is cupping his face and looking at him with so much pride and adoration that it makes his heart tumble into knots.“Two sets to one, seven-one, seven-six, six-two.”

They fall to the ground together, and they come up as Japan’s Junior Boys Doubles Champions.

Geto can’t help but grin and lean into Gojo as they face the ESPN camera crew for the hundredth pose in a series of photos that will no doubt be hung on their coach’s wall. For the first time that week, the air is light and nothing is wrong or bad in the world, and they have just become winners. He knows there’s another match tomorrow, and they’ll have to face off against each other, but for now, he savors the moment.

If Gojo’s hand lingers around his waist for longer than necessary, he pays no heed to it and continues to smile for the camera.

After the blur of post-game interviews and a few quick calls to family and friends, they become lucid again at the concession stands, each with a soda nestled in their respective trophies and a hot dog on one hand. “A toast,” Gojo raises his hotdog proudly and he can’t help but join him in this silly little gesture. “To a well-fought game.”

“A well-fought game,” Geto grins for the thousandth time that day. “And to many, many more.”

That grin promptly falls when Gojo wiggles his eyebrows at him in the infuriating way that he does when he wants to get up to no good. “No.”

“I haven’t even told you yet!”

“Whatever it is,” Geto begins to rise and collect the rest of his items, Gojo following in suit, albeit with a slow childishness that has remained even after they left elementary school. “I know it’s not gonna be good.”

“Come on!” His partner pleads, voice raising an octane in a way that he thinks works on Geto. It doesn’t. “There’s this Nike clothing line party happening tonight and there’s supposed to be free alcohol—”

“You know I don’t drink.”

“There’s going to be hot people.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Geto raises an eyebrow and begins to walk back towards the outdoor courts. “And besides, I want to make sure I’m ready for our match tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” Gojo looks at him as if he’s grown an additional head, like the very concept of practicing for their match is a foreign concept. He’s not sure if the thought of that is comforting. “We play together all the time. If I throw the match, will you go?”

He acts like the mere suggestion doesn’t offend him. Gojo can take the loss tomorrow and barely drop a sweat in the rankings, but the thought of a manufactured win makes his fingers twitch.

“Absolutely not,” He shoots his friend a glare, but lightens at the way Gojo deflates. “But you should just go. Really.”

Gojo pouts. “It’s not going to be fun without you there though.”

They’re full and sated by the time they return to the same court to observe the Girls Singles final, and to Geto’s surprise, the people in the stands have seemingly doubled. It’s a task in itself to find a couple of empty spots in the bleachers, and when they do, they’re crammed in between two sets of families.

Just in time, the overhead sound system booms with the announcer’s voice, “Now entering the court, all the way from Kyoto, girls singles number eight is Utahime Iori!”

There’s a series of polite claps as a slender girl with long black hair exits the tunnel, and they watch as the girl smiles and waves to the crowd, a familiar image of the prim and proper girls they’ve encountered before at boarding school. Nothing exciting.

“I still seriously think you should go to the party,” Gojo turns away from the girl, already bored. “We can leave within twenty minutes, shake hands with a few people, sneak a couple of hard seltzers, and then we’re done!”

He shakes his head, ready to squash any of Gojo’s hopes of going to this party, when the speakers announce your arrival.

When they catch a glimpse of you for the first time, it’s as if the world suddenly spins on its axis.

You’re eighteen years old and you’re on top of the world.

You step out on the court like it’s a NYFW runway, glistening with the newest pieces from your Nike tennis clothing line, unbothered and paying no mind to the dozens of cameras that click upon seeing you with an ease that’s acquired from winning. And you win a lot. There’s murmurs that you’re the next big thing, the next Serena Williams or Billie Jean King, Japan’s own wonder child, and somehow, Geto disagrees.

No, you’re your own thing entirely. You’re going to surpass them all.

Any words that were previously on the tips of their tongues have died out. Forgetting themselves, Gojo and Geto lean forward, entranced by the sheer magnetism you exude.

And as if you could feel the weight of their gazes on you, you look up and they’re blinded by the sun. For a moment, your eyes narrow and then hyperfocus. You smile at them.

That’s when Geto knew it was over.

They’re glued to every single one of your actions from that point on, no matter how miniscule. The way you place your racket bag next to your bench, the subtle way you adjust your necklace, and—Gojo gasps—how you stretch to near impossible angles, showing off legs that ripple with muscles that have grown over time. Internally, Geto groans. “Fuck.”

When the match starts, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember that there’s one other person on the court.

You make the person on the opposite side of the court all but disappear. Your signature move, a precise and powerful slice that is sharp as steel and oh so lethal. You’re forcing Utahime to play to your rhythm, to work for it, all the while barely breaking so much of a sweat. In the back of his mind, Geto comes to a slow realization that you play like the culmination of him and Gojo, raw, unfiltered talent mixed with undeniable control and discipline.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

When you serve an ace that’s just right on the line to win the set, Utahime breaks down and slams her racket down on the ground repeatedly.

Geto looks down and realizes that Gojo’s hand is on his thigh.

The rest of the match is sealed at that point, and to no one’s surprise, you add the singles championship trophy to the storied collection that has to be growing exponentially in your home.

They find you afterwards at the junior players’ tent, positively beaming and surrounded by dozens upon dozens of reporters. You answer all their questions with frightening poise and confidence, and they’re struck once again that they may just be in the presence of someone great.

Someone like Gojo, Geto thinks distantly. Someone I can reach.

When the dust settles and the reporters finally flock from your side to discuss your clothing line with a Nike representative, you’re left standing merely a few feet away from them. That’s their cue.

“Hi, I’m Getou Suguru—”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“I know who you two are,” One side of your lips curls upward. “I’ve been hearing an awful lot of you guys the past few days.”

“Really?” At this, Gojo grins, but it’s similar to a lion baring its teeth. “Are you a member of the fan club?”

You hum. “Not yet,” Slowly, your gaze drifts to examine both of them from head to toe, and suddenly the room feels hot. “But maybe you can sign me up for a newsletter.”

Before Gojo, ever the opportunist, can retort, Geto feels the inexplicable pull to grab your attention by any means necessary. For the first time in years, he doesn’t know if he can share this with Gojo. “You were otherworldly.”

“Thank you.”

The words are tumbling out of his mouth without thinking, set on autopilot. It’s not like him to get flustered, to stumble over his words but the need to vocalize her impact is stronger than his will. “It was like watching a masterclass of the sport–it didn’t even feel like watching a sport, it was like a performance, like… like art.”

They can still hear Utahime’s sobs from outside the tent.

“You absolutely massacred her. It was kind of brutal,” Gojo says with no hint of pity or malice; if anything, he seemed proud.

“She’ll be fine,” You shrug. “It just takes her a moment. We’ve been playing each other for years, and she comes out better for it after every loss. Moments like these are gonna shape her tennis career.”

Geto bites back the retort that’s simmering on the edge of his tongue. Her career will be marked by a series of losses to you—she’ll be a footnote on the biographies that will be written in your name. Gojo beats him to it. “So you think she can beat you someday?”

“No.” You say the word like it’s an undisputed fact.

You and Gojo slip into an easy conversation and that’s when Geto starts to feel a bit pushed back, until you snap him back to reality. “You’re going to UTokyo right?”

“Yeah,” Geto furrows his brow in confusion, head still reeling from the fact that he’s even anywhere in your radar. “How’d you know?”

“I just committed. Figured I’d read up on the roster.”

Besides him, Gojo’s leaning forward in disbelief, as if the very notion of something so mundane and boring as college could possibly contain you. “You’re not going pro?”

You don’t even attempt to humor him. “Not for a while.”

“You could take home even more trophies, start going up against real opponents,” Gojo’s eyes are aflame with all the possibilities surging through his head. He looks at Geto like the very idea stings him. “Solidify your place as one of the best. Why stop all that momentum in its tracks?”

“Have you ever considered that I might want to learn a thing or two besides hitting a ball with a racket?” That makes both of them pause. Who chooses real life over tennis? Before they could probe further, a representative from ESPN is motioning for you to exit. If Geto visibly deflates, he tries not to show it. “I’ve gotta go do this interview, but there’s this little party going on tonight. You guys should come.”

“Yes!” Gojo lights up at the mention of the party, and the prospect of seeing you again. “We’ll be there!”

“Cool,” As you walk away, you look back at the two dumbstruck fools. “I’ll see you two around.”

They stand in that cramped tent for longer than necessary, processing the interaction and mulling your words over in their heads repeatedly, over and over again, until it becomes static noise. At the edge of his periphery, he sees Gojo lean against a table, positively beat and entranced for the first time in a long time.

Gojo sighs, blowing strands of white hair away from his face. “I’d let her fuck me with a racket.”

─────── · ·

There’s posters of you around the party in various states of athleticism. Some of you staring the camera down, looking like a force of nature with your racket in a position to swing. A few candids of you actually playing on the court, your forehead creased in a focused and determined frown. But there’s one in the center of it all that they’re drawn to.

He thinks he remembers this one. The match had been played at the back of his coach’s office once, and he thought back to the way your last name had flashed on the screen and paid it no mind. Your opponent was this girl on the precipice of going pro, and tennis critics and fans alike had remarked on the way you seemed to come alive.

You jumped to deliver a crushing blow, and he thinks you look like an angel.

On the other side of the room, you’ve been surrounded by adoring fans and interviewers alike all night, taking photos with your shiny new trophy, and every attempt of theirs to grab your attention has gone unnoticed. While they wait for their turn to be seen. Geto clears his throat. “How are we going to go about this?”

“What do you mean?” Gojo tilts his head, eyes still not breaking away from your form. “Go about what?”

“I don’t want to scare her off. We’re like two bulls in a china shop together. We’ll cancel each other out.”

Gojo weighs his words, and shrugs. “Two negatives and one positive make a positive.”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“Hey!” Suddenly, you’re approaching them very quickly, finally finding the opportunity to break away from the crowd. You’re wearing lip gloss, he notices, and his throat suddenly dries up. “You both made it.”

Gojo and Geto enthusiastically greet you back, and then there’s an awkward beat. None of you are really sure how to proceed. A hug feels too intimate, so you all settle for awkward little waves.

“I didn’t realize that your final match was tomorrow,” Your hands are on your hips, examining the two of them appraisingly. “Are you sure you don’t need to practice or something?”

“We both know how it’s going to go.”

Geto stares blankly at Gojo, like he could kill him, but he tries to regain his cool. “What Gojo means to say, is that we’ve been playing with each other for a long time. We know each other well enough not to sweat it.”

“All in good fun!” Gojo chirps in, all smiles and joy.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m glad you guys came.”

There’s a quiet, peaceful moment when all you do is stand there, relishing in the atmosphere of the party. Before you could cut that silence, Gojo beats you to it.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

You know you shouldn’t. There’s sponsors you should probably talk to, your manager’s driving herself into a flurry, and your parents were already eyeing the pair with something along the lines of suspicion.

But your cheeks are aching from all the smiling and the way they’re looking at you, as if you held them in the palm of your hand is too tempting to ignore. You’re the number one junior girls tennis player in the world. Who’s going to stop you?

“Yeah,” You smile. “Lead the way.”

—

Their hotel room is shabby and dark and littered with half-empty bottles and takeout, which they scramble to hide and throw away as you keep examining the rest of the room. You see a polaroid of the two of them that must’ve been taken sometime during the tournament, Gojo gleefully leaning over Geto and striking a peace sign.

“Sorry about all that,” Geto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and it evaporates any sort of nerves you may have had on the walk over. “We weren’t really expecting company.” Gojo brings out a six-pack of beer and your night truly begins.

It’s unexpected how easily you open up to the two of them. It’s hard to develop peers in tennis, not when you simply function on another level, but you look at the two of them, really look at them and think that they might just understand. They look at you with nostalgia and a remembrance that you can’t explain.

You think it might be similar to how they feel for each other.

It’s only around midnight when you start to get antsy, and they can feel it too.

You’ve seen the way they stare. You’ve been dancing around it all day, willing yourself to stay painfully oblivious, but you can feel that delicate string of tension start to go taut, and you know that snap is coming.

When you rise, slowly, you can feel the way their gazes sear into your skin, committing you to memory. Gojo’s eyes travel throughout the length of your body, examining every part of you like it’s a revelation. Every inch of smooth skin, curves delightfully peeking out of the Juicy Couture set you have on, that necklace of yours you were playing with earlier.

But it’s Geto’s eyes that remain locked solely with yours, as if looking away would physically pain him. Otherworldly. Like a performance, like art, you thought distantly. He looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world that matters.

You hum. You’ve become even more painstakingly aware just how in control you are and it sends a rush of heat between your legs.

Without acknowledging either of them, you travel to the foot of one of their beds, sitting down with your hands on your lap. “Come here.”

“Which one of us?”

Gojo doesn’t even hesitate, taking his place next to you on the bed without question. It compels Geto to follow, sitting on the opposite side of him. You look over at the two of them sitting next to you, diligent and obedient and ready for what you have to offer.

Interesting.

It’s silent for a singular second as you appraise each of them, sincerely liking what you see. But there’s something that drags you into Geto’s orbit; it’s magnetic, it’s contagious, and it’s why you pull him to you first.

Geto kisses like he’s restrained, and it takes you lightly pulling his hair and bringing him closer to allow him to let loose, muscles going placid under your touch. He surprises you in turn, nibbling on the bottom of your lip before dragging his tongue to mash against yours and reaching towards your hips. You like this version of him a lot.

Behind you, Gojo gently holds your hips, his large and inhuman body fitting against yours as he waits not so patiently for his turn.

When you finally turn towards him, he’s unashamed, burning with desire and drinking you in like you’re the oasis in a dessert. It’s demanding and a lot, but you keep up with him anyway, demanding more from him in return, practically meshed together as you feel Geto snaking his hands up your stomach and appreciating the way his feather light touches leave goosebumps.

You pull back for a moment to look at both of them, really look at them, a part of you gets greedy. Whatever it is between the two of them, whatever you do next, will surely open the floodgates. The concern dissipates as fast as it comes.

There’s not a part of you that can bring itself to care, not when they’re looking at you with so much need and desire. Not when you can see just how badly they need this, need you, need each other.

When you all lock eyes, there’s an unspoken agreement. You all dive in together.

The three of you kiss like you’re all starving, all warm tongue and groans. Gojo’s caressing the curve of your cheekbone, gasping into your mouth, on the precipice of devouring you. You’re grinding yourself into him wherever you can get pressure against your center and you can feel the attacks on your neck, Geto’s hands beginning to undo the zipper on your pretty pink jacket.

Closing your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of both men’s firm and strong bodies moving over your frame. At some point, you lean your head back on Gojo’s chest and feel calloused fingertips stroke down your throat and it causes your brain to short-circuit.

Geto runs his tongue over your lips, and nails press into your side. You moan, and it’s a small, light thing, barely audible, but Geto thinks he wants to keep that sound coming out of you for the rest of his life. He travels back to your neck and grazes blunt teeth against the smooth expanse of your neck and finds that he enjoys your sharp intakes of breath much, much more.

Your jacket’s long gone at this point, and you can feel two sets of hands starting to make their way into your sports bra. There’s so much sensation, so much desperation. It’s a competition to see who can force more sounds out of you.

Gojo runs his thumb across your nipple and gives it the same attention he’s been giving to your neck. The whimper that comes out of your lips is unprovoked, and you can feel the cruel smile forming against your hair.

When he pulls back, you whine, until you see that conniving glint in his eyes, like he knows something you don’t. You become hyper aware of his hands finding its way to Geto’s face, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

Eyes half-lidded and smiling, Gojo hungrily, deliciously tastes Geto and Geto alone, one hand reaching to wrap around one side of his neck and a hand making its way up your thigh and into your shorts, chuckling delightfully against Geto when he feels just how soaked you are.

You lick your lips, taking in the sight before you.

Geto clambers at Gojo’s face, his neck, his chest, burning with the need to touch all of him, all at once. He sucks at his bottom lip and bites, pulling more of those beautiful sounds from Gojo’s parted mouth.

When Gojo finally retreats, examining the mess he’s made of Geto, at his heaving chest and desperate groans, he turns back to you and smiles from ear to ear. “You want us to fuck you?”

You’ve already pulled off the rest of your clothes, tugging the shorts down your legs at a tantalizingly slow pace. But the way your chest is heaving is betraying the cool exterior you’re trying desperately to maintain. “Yeah.”

And just like that, they’re back to leaving scathing, hot and wet kisses up your neck, whispering so many obscenities in your ear that make your head spin.

You’re fucking amazing, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you, you, all you, so fucking sexy, want to fuck you right now, fuck you with Geto, make you feel our love.

Geto’s eyes are dark. “Say please. Show us how you want us.”

“Please,” You’re babbling, barely coherent, and the sound is lost amid the noise. “Oh god.”

In a rare state of lucidity, you took one of their hands and put it right where you needed them, forcing their palm to cup you between your thighs, grinding so deliciously and whimpering at the small bit of friction you taste. And then another hand—at this point, you can’t keep track of who’s where, it’s a mess of limbs and breaths and you can’t find it in you to care—strokes against your slit, teasing and rubbing and purposely providing you with little to no relief.

You need more. “Satoru—”

Gojo sighs, drunk off of the way you feel, and slides one finger in with no resistance. “God, you’re so ready for us.” You tilt your head back and let your hair fan out on the pillow behind you, whining and mumbling and reaching for any semblance of sanity.

When you look back to the two of them, they’re tangled in each other’s hair and grasping each other with such devotion and need, but it’s when they look back at you with those dark eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and slowly start to descend together that your heart drops in your chest. “Just relax.”

Breathy and exasperated, you nod. You’ve never been this wet and you’re all worked up, so sensitive that Gojo chuckles at what he finds underneath, in awe. “I think we gotta help our girl out, Suguru.”

“Mhm.” Geto seals his lips around your cunt and your back arches off the bed. He was so gentle earlier, but the way he’s sucking, moaning, and dragging his tongue back and forth is rough and unpredictable. Paired with the way Gojo’s other hand is roaming the expanse of your body, playing with your chest, rubbing soft circles around your thighs, while the other is locating the sensitive spot inside you, and it’s too much.

Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much—-

You’re pulled away from your delirious thoughts when Gojo comes into your periphery, as if sensing the way you’re slowly floating up into the abyss. “Stay with us.”

The noises spilling from where Geto’s seated underneath you, lewd and graphic and coupled with his delighted moans makes your mouth hang open. The ascent is nowhere near like the slow, building pressure you’ve felt with other partners. Instead, it’s liquid fire, lightning that threatens to pull you under at any moment.

Gojo hits a rhythm that has you singing, needy and desperate and you don’t recognize the way you beg for release, so different from the tough exterior you put up earlier during your match.

Geto spits into the mess between your thighs, nasty and unprovoked. And then you’re breaking, crying out, hips jerking with such an intensity that you know you’re going to be sore by tomorrow.

When you come to, chest panting and eyes dazed, the desire to return the favor bypasses any exhaustion. “Your turn.”

─────── · ·

SET ONE

G. Satoru: 6

G. Suguru: 2

Tennis was Gojo’s first love. Geto was his second. And then you became his last.

Gojo can’t lie. He’s having the most fun he’s had in ages—the scene unfolding in front of him was delicious. From the opposite side of the court, he’s just provoked Geto Suguru to his first point penalty of his career, a far cry from the composed and stoic persona that he’s cultivated with the media these days. He watches, satisfied, as Geto finally, finally releases all that tension, all that anger beautifully and beats his racket mercilessly to the hard concrete.

It’s a sight that brings him so much joy. It’s like seeing someone you haven’t heard from in a long time.

On the sideline, you’re watching your husband, transfixed. It’s subtle but he can see it in the way your chest descends and ascends in rapid successions, barely there but he knows. Geto’s perfect and pristine wife and manager, the former undisputed queen of tennis, and he’s got you playing into his game.

No one ever talks about the beauty or grace of tennis anymore. There’s glimpses of it in the way Geto plays. On late nights when he can’t sleep, he plays back your old tennis matches. But on this court, he’s determined to carve it out of both of you once more.

The only thing he has left to do is guide Geto to redirect all those emotions, all that passion back to the game. But he believes in him. He has full faith that the game will only get much sweeter from here.

He knows, like an immovable, unstoppable force, that he’s probably going to win today.

So Gojo takes the first set, but they have all day. He eyes his opponent across the court and sees Geto grin, but it’s more like a baring of teeth. There you are. Welcome back.

#she's unedited and messy and not the greatest but I NEEDED THEM TO MATCH MY FREAK #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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theemporium · 1 day

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[1.7k] travelling can be stressful, but it's a little easier when your swiss grizzly bear boyfriend is by your side.

It was stupid.

You were fully aware it’s stupid. People liked to remind you how stupid they found it. It was something so, so stupid and being so painfully aware just made it worse. Because logic didn’t work, despite what countless people tried to tell you. Their reassurances and rationality didn’t help the way your brain spiralled until it could latch on to every single possible thing that could go wrong.

And you knew, nine times out of ten, nothing would happen. In fact, you could count on one hand the times your spirals had played out and became a reality. But that didn’t stop you having the spirals, and it didn’t stop the way your brain processed everything.

Unfortunately, even your own common sense lacked in the battle between your brain and the anxiety travelling brought you.

It was something you were mostly mocked for and, truthfully, you could understand their perspectives. It did sound silly when you tried to explain to your coworker the fact you couldn’t sleep the night before a journey, even if you had done it a million times before. It did sound dramatic when you tried to explain the fear a new destination brought you, regardless of how much research you did. But they didn’t get it, they don’t understand that voice in the back of your head whispering away.

What if this is the one time something goes wrong? What if there is an accident? What if something gets cancelled? What if the traffic is worse than usual and you’re late?

Random but burdening questions rattled in your head on the days coming up to a big trip. It’s why you hated booking them in the first place, because you knew exactly how you would react. And you told yourself it would be different, that you wouldn’t be so dramatic this time, that you could handle it.

And, without fail, you would find yourself sick to your stomach the morning of the trip, unable to stomach anything beyond a piece of toast (if you were lucky).

“Do you think you would know if I was replaced by an alien?”

You blinked, taking a few moments to process the question before you turned to find Nico already looking at you, a contemplative look on his face.

“What?”

“Like, I’m sure you would notice but how long do you think it would take you to figure it out?” He questioned, his hand resting on your knee and lightly squeezing as he spoke.

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to wrap your head around his question before you let out a breathless laugh. “What are you going on about?”

“You looked lost in your thoughts,” he said, keeping his voice low so he couldn’t be heard above the music the taxi driver was playing through the radio. “I can see inside that pretty head of yours. You were spiralling.”

Your cheeks flushed in response. “I’m sorry—”

But Nico cut you off with another squeeze to your knee and a kind smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologise for it,” he reassured you. “I just wanted to help.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words.

“For the record,” he continued, saving you once again when he could see emotions overwhelming your ability to speak. “I think it would take me five minutes tops if you got replaced by an alien.”

You snorted. “What? Five minutes? There’s no way.”

“I know you, schatz,” Nico shrugged in response. “I would be able to tell.”

“Aliens could have crazy technology far too advanced for humans to comprehend,” you argued back and, for the first time since you went to bed last night, your brain was thinking about something other than long security lines, overpriced airport snacks and cancelled flights. “I could have been replaced by an alien months ago and you wouldn’t have realised.”

“I would know,” Nico said, sounding far too sure of himself as he flashed you a smile. “I doubt aliens would know that you make a little sound whenever I–”

“Nico!” You hissed, your eyes widening as you glanced at the taxi driver with worry.

And the fucker had the audacity to giggle in response as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his side as much as your seatbelt would allow.

“I was just going to say when I tickle you,” he said with a shameless grin. “I don’t know what dirty thoughts are in your head, schatz.”

You huffed, nuzzling further into his side. “You’re evil.”

“And you love me anyways.”

You rolled your eyes, but Nico knew from the smile on your face that he was right.

You knew exactly what he was doing and, truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to call him out on it. Because it was working. Because he was Nico and he would deny it but he wouldn’t stop, even if you did call him out. Because there was a warm feeling in your stomach at the idea that someone—that Nico—cared enough to go out of his way to make you more comfortable.

Because he was Nico Hischier and he was just the kind of guy that went out of his way to make his loved ones more relaxed, to take on that captain role beyond the ice.

You barely got a chance to climb out of the taxi before Nico was already reaching for the bags in the boot of the car, pulling them out and only giving you the lightest ones he couldn’t physically carry whilst also holding your hand. You didn’t bother to hide your smile.

It was a feeling you didn’t have with many people. Or at all, usually. Especially when you were travelling. Your brain was working on overdrive, your eyes constantly looking around like some unexpected variable was going to throw your plans off. You couldn’t physically stop how wired and on edge travelling made you.

But something about travelling with Nico made it easy to just let your brain switch off.

You were far too focused on ogling the way he casually carried more bags than one person should, carrying them with such ease that made your head spin a little. Far too focused on the way he guided you through the bustling airport, so sure of himself and so in control as he led you towards the front desk where you could check your luggage in and grab your boarding passes.

You didn’t even get a chance to reach for your hand luggage before Nico took the smaller suitcase in his hand, his other hand on the small of your back as he led you towards security with no sight of the panicked rushing that you were used to.

“Do you think aliens could make it past airport security?”

You snorted. “Do not start this again.”

Nico’s smile widened in response.

Security passed as quickly as one would expect for such a busy airport (meaning not very fast at all) but it was easy to not think too long about it when Nico was chatting your ear off with a million different topics. The possibility of missing your flight (despite being over three hours early) didn’t cross your mind as Nico scrolled through the endless TikToks Jack had sent him, or pictures Jonas had sent, already back home in Switzerland earlier than Nico.

“Here,” Nico called out to get your attention.

You turned around, finding him reaching into his backpack before pulling out a bundle of fabric. You raised your brows in questioning but took it from him without second thought. It took you a few moments before you realised it was one of his hoodies.

“You brought two hoodies?” You questioned.

“No, one is for you,” he answered like it was obvious. “It’s your favourite one, too. I made sure not to pack it away in the big case.”

Your face softened in seconds. “Nico.”

“None of that,” he murmured as he stepped forward, taking your face in his hands as his thumbs lightly skimmed along the apples of your cheeks. “I want my girl to be as comfortable as possible, okay? So, you’re gonna put that hoodie on, we are gonna get some food in you and then we can relax by the gate. I have card games and playlists and your kindle in my bag too, because you almost forgot to pack it last night. I made sure it was charged too.”

Your eyes welled up with tears before you could stop yourself. “I love you.”

He beamed in response. “I love you too,” he answered before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your lips. “And I cannot wait to kick your ass at the new card game Timo taught me on the way back from LA.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. “You’re so sure you’ll win?”

“I always win,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again before he pulled away. “I won you, didn’t I?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so cheesy today.”

“You’re going to be stuck on a plane with me for the next few hours, better get used to it.”

“I should have taken Jack up on his offer to go to the lakehouse instead,” you grumbled, but there was unwritten relief on your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against him as he squeezed you closer.

“You’ll love Switzerland far more than you would have liked Michigan,” Nico assures you, lips brushing against the top of your head. “The food is better. And so are the views. And it has something Michigan doesn’t have.”

Your curiosity peaked. “Hm?”

Nico’s head shifted down a bit, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped until it was a whisper only you could hear. “A cabin I booked away for the week, just for me and you. No city, no people. Just us, a lake and so many surfaces I can’t wait to fuck you on.”

Your cheeks burned as you pulled back, glaring at his smug expression. “Nico!”

“What?” He looked giddy, dimples popping and making your stomach twist in desire. “I saw those little dresses you packed, baby. Don’t think I won’t be taking full advantage of it.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And this menace loves to make you come,” he retorted, quickly leaning down to kiss you again before you could reply. “Now, c’mon. We have plenty of time to kill and I even downloaded some movies Nina recommended. Everything is going to be fine, baby.”

And you were just so inclined to believe him.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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rene-darling · 1 day

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Listen I saw this fanart and now I had an idea. So like sub!Idol Xiao x dom reader (fem prefered but u can choose) and so basically Xiao's taking some mirror selfies for his social media in this outfit and yk like showing off those lacy panties (like they're pulled up, but he still has his jeans on) and like reader (their partnwrcomes home and sees him doing that. So they like sneak up behind him and hug him from behind. Like he becomes all flustered all of the sudden and readers like:"Oh so you're showing this to millions of people, but get embarassed when I see it?" What happens afterwards is up to u lmao

IDOL!- Xiao x reader

OML THIS IS SO- HOT. I love this concept. I'm drooling.

Possessive reader! A lil toxic I guess, but it's pretty tame.

Also! The readers gender nor pronouns are not mentioned anywhere, so feel free to assume. And if they are please feel free to tell me!

Talk to me on insta [r3xni3]😞🙏

...Xiao...

He's been at it for hours. Different angles, different poses- all to get a good photo of himself flaunting his panties and the tight straps attached to them on his waist,

They hug his body so tightly pushing at his skin, if they move even a little bit you'd definitely see the red marks under them, they push up against his skin, it hurts but, he's doing it cause his agency asked him.

"mhm..." Groans leaving his throat, the photos- they're just not good enough. Scrolling through the endless amounts of them that he took, finally landing on one that pleases him.

He decides to shoot it one more time, same angle and stuff, just better lighting. He wants to show off his toned body as much as possible. And as he does this, it- quite frankly skips his mind that he has a loving partner returning from work soon. And that soon happens to be around- now.

"Ah-!" His body freezes up. Goosebumps trace along his skin- god your hands are cold. His eyes flash down, seeing as your hands slowly trace down the side of his waist, fidgeting with the straps they came across, grabbing one and pulling it away from his body only to watch in amusement as it snaps back in place once you let go,

He reaches out to grab your hand instinctively, mewling- until you finally reach, and play with the hem of his panties.

"y/n- s-...mh, stop." He tries sounding serious, but he curses at how squeaky and pitched his voice came out.

"hm..? What's the problem darl', you can show off your panties to millions of people, but you're getting embarrassed when I see? Hmpf, I'm one of your fans too y'know?."

"i-its not the same-" he's stammering over his words "y/n- hah..-" slipping your hands in between them, but not quite touching him just yet, simply tracing the sides of his hip "and how so..? I'm your biggest fan, shouldn't I get a reward for that. I deserve more than a picture. Don't'cha think?"

Tracing down the side of his hip, he can feel your eyes peering over his shoulder, watching him. His every movement, his every shudder. And the way his panties start bulging in a specific area

"y/n-" his voice is cut off by his own whine. You're so mean, suddenly jerking his cock, tapping its tip just for your own amusement. "Aw- darlin that was too cute!..do that again? Hm? For me?..you take so many photos for those stupid fans of yours, you can make that cute sound for me again can't you..?"

Huffing, he's leaning back into your body. His head falling back with each increase in movement, resting it on your shoulder, whining back into your ear. "Hah- you- you're so mean..!"

It's not your fault he's decided to make you jealous. Seriously, why the hell should he post his body for all his perverted fans to see.

Picking up his phone and pressing record on it, angling it right at his face. "Look here baby, I'm sure your perverted fans would love to see their favorite lil idol losing his head over a few touches." His eyes widen in shock "n-no..!"

He tries grabbing the phone, but to no avail. You pull it further, and jerk his lil dick harder, he stumbles, falling forward before you grab his waist pulling him back into you, he's leaning his whole body weight against you, he just hopes you won't let go.

Snickering to yourself you decide to stop recording, and go into the photos, clicking on the video you just took, you bring it to his ears and make him listen "Aw- darling don't you just sound so cute when you're desperate."

That's when it all spills. A shameful feeling, and an ever more shame worthy whine leave him as he comes all in his lacy little panties, getting them all dirty.

His legs collapse completely as you're forced to pick him up off the floor, not that you mind.

Resting him on the bed, letting him catch his breath, you take a hold of his phone and- delete every photo he took showing off those panties.

Scoffing you throw his phone down next to him and crash onto the bed right near him, wrapping your hands around his pretty waist you hear him huff. "You got them dirty..." He could only mumble under his breath.

"I'll buy you some new ones, on one condition." Turning his head around with a slightly amused expression on his breathless face "and..that is...?"

"you can only take those photos for me. I get to see them. No one else."

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 hours

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AITA for calling my husband baby doll in public?

Nsfw tw

I (29M) am married to my husband (30M). He's a sweetheart, and I love him so so so much. He's absolutely perfect.

I'm the kind of guy who uses a ton of pet names, especially with him. I'll call him darling, sweetheart, babe, pretty boy, stuff like that. I'll also call him baby doll, but for different reasons.

Basically, I only call him that in bed, and I've noticed that whenever I say it outside of that context, it gets a reaction out of him. I've accidentally installed a sleeper agent activation phrase in my husband, and it is inherently funny. But recently I've started saying it when we're out in public, usually right before we go home. It's become a bit of a code word for "I want to have sex with you when we get back." Nobody knows this but us, and to someone that isn't married to him, the fact that it turns him on wouldn't be noticeable. He'll chew his lip a little and maybe blush, stiffen up, but that's about it.

Recently we were at a party with a mutual friend G (34M) and I was sitting on the couch talking to him when my husband came in the room with his coat, clearly ready to go and hide under a blanket back home the way his introvert ass loves. I looked him up and down and said "you ready to go, baby doll? Maybe give me a few more minutes, you can head on to the car if you want." And tossed him the keys. He thanked me and said goodbye to G and left.

G shook his head after my husband left and said "ew... you call him that in public?" And for a second I was terrified he noticed our mild kink play, but when I asked "what do you mean?" He said "it's so emasculating, can't you just call him babe or something?" I shrugged and said he likes it, to which G said, "yeah, I'm sure he ran out the door because he loved you calling him that so much," which is funny because he literally did, but it still upset me. I said my goodbyes and went to the car where my husband was. We went home and had a very nice night.

The more I think about it though, the grosser it is. I feel like I'm engaging strangers in our kink, which doesn't feel good. And maybe the pet name is emasculating.

And before you accuse G of being homophobic, he's also gay. Just... snapbacks and wifebeaters muscle gay. Nobody would be able to clock him in a million years. He shotguns beer at every party even when it is not the vibe.

AITA for calling him this in public when I know it turns him on? I figure if I accidentally pavlov'd him, I might as well use it.

#aita #am i the asshole

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dokidokitsuna · 2 days

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“Some of us…will always be alone”

Skipping forward a bit in this re-concept, just because I can~ (loooong post ahead)

So one of the many things I found underwhelming about Return of the Mammalians is the lack of villainous impact Mr. Grizz has on his own story.

For starters, he’s straight up absent from 80% of it. =/ Just a vaguely threatening disembodied voice that does weak comedy bits with Cap’n Cuttlefish from time to time…and that’s basically it until we face him in the final battle.

The worst thing he’s responsible for in the story (as in, a successful act we have to contend with, rather than a work-in-progress that we interrupt) is dehydrating Cuttlefish…which is very temporary and played for laughs immediately afterwards. We don’t even get the opportunity to engage with this “tragedy” by actively rescuing the Cap’n in gameplay, we just suddenly find his body during a cutscene.

Compare this to Commander Tartar manipulating the player and lying directly to their face throughout the game, attempting to kill the player during the reveal of its treachery in one of the most memorable scenes of the entire series, brainwashing a former protagonist into fighting the player, and then attempting to destroy an entire city while quietly confessing that it murdered thousands of victims just to get to this point.

I’ll let you guess which one of these antagonists feels like a genuine threat, and which one just feels like a disappointment. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, I don’t mind Mr. Grizz being less violent and deranged than Commander Tartar…the two have different personalities and slightly different goals, and anyway a body count isn’t really necessary to be a convincing villain. But I DO mind him being so totally uninvolved, despite being a character that we already knew and interacted with beforehand. Like, at the very least…talk to the player. o_O Care about the player. Do something to interfere with the player sometime before the last minute! The fact that Grizz just doesn’t give a damn about our existence for most of the campaign is baffling from a writer’s standpoint, and heartbreaking from a Grizz-fan’s standpoint. ;_; Notice me, Kuma-san!!

…Anyway, there’s a million ways to remedy this, because it’s such a simple and obvious problem that really shouldn’t exist. ^^; And the one I chose for #re_rise (besides having Grizz haunt the game like an ever-present specter, as explained here) is one of my old tried-and-true favorites: using the villain to parallel the protagonist.

Basically, both characters are lonely at heart. Agent 3 left home for the Splatlands in search of a “fresh beginning”, after spending most of their life feeling like they never fit in anywhere. Throughout the story, we get subtle clues that what they want most is belonging and friendship…which they’re clearly discovering through their interactions with Deep Cut and Smallfry, although it’s not until the climax of the final battle that they can truly believe in it and accept it.

And of course, Mr. Grizz lost his home and entire civilization, and even in the midst of a thriving new one (that he actively engages with through his corporation…!) he’s apparently such a massive bigot that he doesn’t consider it worthy of his company. ^^; Fish-people do not count to him, thus his loneliness is self-inflicted and intensified. He believes his only recourse is to transform the world back into something he can accept.

These parallels, plus the desire-manifesting powers of Alterna’s crystals (discussed in this post) eventually brings the two characters to an understanding of sorts. Without having to exchange words, they can see and consider the similarities of their innermost feelings.

This doesn’t have much of an effect on Grizz, outside of something he might muse about while Agent 3 ascends the launchpad (and maybe quietly internalize as proof that fish-people have feelings too, just to give his last-second change of heart at least one leg to stand on). But it weighs heavily on Agent 3, especially since they’re being physically changed by their adventure in a way that makes these parallels even more relevant…yes, I’m finally gonna talk about what I actually drew. ^^

My idea was that spending too much time around Fuzzy Ooze will affect you even if you don’t touch it (i.e. through splashes/aerosols), just to a lesser degree. And since Agent 3 was the first to actually enter the underground lab spaces and spends more time fighting there than anyone else, they’ve had an unprecedented amount of secondhand exposure to it.

Through O.R.C.A.’s files, they can understand why this mild fuzzification is happening to them, and that it may not be reversible, although they press on anyway (I’d like to imply that they’re willing to ignore it to impress Deep Cut~). But Grizz’s offhand comments make them realize that they may be unintentionally setting themselves up to be cast aside again, slowly turning into a repulsive mutant monster that no one will want to be around. The only one of their kind in the world, just like a certain Ursine Anomaly…and if they succeed in stopping Grizz’s plan, that’s all they’ll ever be.

…On the other hand, if they were to sit back and let him fuzzify the world, then…no, they couldn’t do that. They…wouldn’t…

#splatoon #re_rise #splatoon 3 #new agent 3 #mr grizz

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blue-lollipops-and-ice-clouds · 3 days

Text

Sleep Token's "The 100 Songs That Changed Our World" Article.

(Source - photos courtesy the lovely jawsofeden)

Transcript:

100 - Sleep Token

The Summoning

(Take Me Back To Eden, 2023)

The meteoric rise of Sleep Token caught us all by surprise. At the start of 2023, the mysterious masked band were one of the metal underground's buzziest names. Led by enigmatic vocalist Vessel, they were a band to watch, for sure, but firmly attracted the niche passion of a cult following.

Then came the song that would change everything. On consecutive days in early January, the band released two singles from their third album, Take Me Back To Eden: the burning, crashing Chokehold, followed by The Summoning - and it was the latter track that would turn them into an Earth-conquering, expectation-shattering phenomenon.

Veering between depraved tech metal, soulful vocals and shimmering electronics, an enormous, hymnal chorus gave way to an Earth-shifting breakdown and screams. Intricate and groove heavy, The Surmoning was more like three songs seamlessly crafted into one genre-fluid modern masterpiece. And it still had its trump card to play: a bendy, thirst-trap, funk outro that went viral on TikTok, turning the internet intoalusty Take1 puddle. Suddenly, Sleep Token were the most talked-about band on the planet.

"THERE ARE HINTS OF EARLY SLIPKNOT THERE."

COREY TAYLOR

"It took me three listens of [The Sumroning] to realise that when they do that whole psychedelic section at the end, that it's actually the same chorus as it was before, only in a completely different way," Evanescence's Amy Lee told Revolver. "And I love it even more that. I thought they just went a whole new direction and wrote a new part, and then I was like, 'Wait, that's the same...but not at all'."

Sleep Token weren't the most obvious choice for a commercial breakthrough. The success of The Summoning, an unconventional, seven-minute, brutal shapeshifter, bucks just about every music industry trend there is.

"It's going to a lot of different places, and I think there isn't any other band out there right now that's able to do that," Judas Priest frontman Rob Halford said earlier this year.

The Summoning set a chain reaction in motion that was unprecedented in modern metal. In just a few weeks, the band saw their Spotify figures jump from the thousands into the millions. To date, the track has been streamed more than 123 million times on Spotify and 19 million on YouTube. On release, Take Me Back To Eden went straight in at No.3 in the UK and was the most streamed metal album of 2023. When the band announced a show at Wembley Arena, tickets sold out in 10 minutes.

Earlier this year, they left the metal-heavy roster of Spinefarm Records for RCA, the home of mainstream megastars Justin Timberlake and rapper Doja Cat.

"In heavy music, or even in just rock, even in the last decade or 15 years, there's so few stories of bands ever breaking through," says Health bassist and producer, John Famiglietti, who supported the band at Wembley and sees Sleep Token's success as proof metal still can resonate on a massive scale. "This is one of the few times I've seen a band go from a fucking club to an arena in six months. And I don't know the last time that happened."

It's worth pointing out that in the social media era where celebrities and artists are more accessible than ever, Sleep Token have achieved all of this on their own terms. To date, they've barely done any press, while their masked mystique is all part of the allure. Last year, fans reacted with outrage when bassist III's identity and birth certificate were allegedly leaked online, seemingly leading to a decision to wipe the band's Instagram.

"There are hints of early Slipknot there," Knot vocalist Corey Taylor told The Allison Hagendorf Show in 2023, thinking back to the early internet days before Slipknot removed their masks. "At first, we were like, 'Nope. You get nothing. This is what you get, you figure it out. We'll let the music speak for ourselves.

Today, Sleep Token are being mentioned in the same breath as potential future Download headliners Ghost, Gojira, and Architects. The only difference? Sleep Token have managed to ascend to the same level as those bands in a fraction of the time. Metal needs new superstars who will push things forward, innovate and keep the scene relevant - and with Sleep Token we have a band we can believe in. DL

#sleep token #sleep token article #metal hammer 388

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total-drama-brainrot · 8 hours

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Alenoah AU, where Noah says this in London instead:

Owen: "Why don't you like Al? He's great!"

Noah: "I like Alejandro and I agree that he's great, but I still don't trust the guy."

Owen: "Why?"

Noah: "I have my personal reasons... One of them being that I don't like how he treats you, Owen... So, please be careful from now on..."

Owen: "Okay, Noah... You do have a point."

How would Alejandro react to Noah liking him, but not truly trusting him? 😲

See your first mistake is assuming Noah would ever give up an oppertunity to shit-talk someone. /j

But for real, if Noah did clarify that he doesn't dislike Alejandro but does distrust him, I can't see things playing out too differently from canon - save for Alejandro being a bit less openly hostile towards him post-challenge. Noah would still be eliminated, because having a teammate who distrusts him doesn't align with Alejandro's game plan.

Especially if Noah divulges why he doesn't trust Alejandro. If Noah tries to out the fact that Alejandro isn't as altruistic as he wants to appear, that makes Noah himself a direct threat to Alejandro's plans and schemes. Again, he'd be eliminated as soon as possible.

Regardless of any potential feelings between the two, Alejandro can and would always prioritise the competition over any budding relationship he has with Noah... at least in London. Further on in the competition, if/when the two of them have gotten to know each other better (and when mutual feelings have had time to grow and develop) it's a different story.

It would, however, mean there's a lot less bad blood between the two post series. At least on Alejandro's end. If anything, he'd probably have a smidge of respect for Noah, since he's one of the few people who had caught on to Alejandro's false geniality pre-merge and/or pre-elimination.

Meanwhile Noah would still be justifyably salty that Alejandro got him eliminated, but I imagine he'd pin most of the blame on himself. After all, it was his big mouth that once again dropped him into hot water with his team. Plus, in this scenario, Noah admits that he does like Alejandro, so even considering his elimination I doubt Noah would be too upset with Alejandro himself.

So, in the case of this hypothetical AU, I'd suggest that the main meat of the story here would be post-World Tour, which plays out canonically (or as close to canonically as you'd like). Alejandro gets Drama Machine'd, and Noah - as one of the few people in the cast who doesn't actively hate Alejandro - questions his whereabouts when he fails to show up on the cruise boat the Gen 1 cast are seen on at the beginning of RotI.

He's likely the only person to do so since, barring Heather, Noah's one of the select few who Alejandro didn't royally fuck over. Not directly, at least. And Heather's too preoccupied with the loss of her million to think about Alejandro's wellbeing. And Chris tells him straight; the robot on the cruise ship? Alejandro's chilling in there, healing from the lava burns in almost complete isolation.

Noah is understandably horrified. He's even more horrified when Chris reveals that the Burromuertos signed over custodial rights for Alejandro and disowned him, so Chris is full within his legal rights to keep Alejandro in the Drama Machine for however long he deems fit. Unfortunately, he's also sworn to secrecy about the whole deal; Chris can't have Alejandro's situation reaching the press, it'd be bad for the show's publicity. (Add some legal jargon here, or something about non-disclosure agreements being in the casts' contracts, or whatever.)

But he can't just leave alejandro to suffer in an indefinite mechanical imprisonment. So Noah bargains his way back into his old position as a PA, if only to keep tabs on Alejandro's wellbeing.

Something something you end up with one of those Assistant Noah x Drama Machine Alejandro AUs, which eventually evolves into a "Noah works as an assistant on All-stars" AU, or whatever.

#Noah WOULD cite Alejandro's blatant dislike of Owen as a reason not to trust him though you're right about that.#Probably took this in a whole different direction to what anon intended. My bad.#I really can't see Alejandro keeping Noah around in London unless Noah's somehow stopped from making ANY sort of comment.#Noah calls him an eel? Eliminated. Noah points out his flimsy mask? Eliminated. Noah even hints that Alejandro's untrustworthy? Eliminated.#You can really see where I lost steam on this one.#total drama #td alejandro #td noah #alenoah #others' ideas #replies

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justjesse116 · 2 days

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I've been seeing a lot of "If Dabi dies it'll be a mercy" lately, and I have some Feelings™.

For the record, my blog is essentially Daddy Issues Central, so I feel like I'm uniquely qualified to weigh in on this situation.

But that's neither here or there, so;

On the one hand, I'm sure Dabi DOES in fact want to live, but wants and needs are different, yes? Would death really be a mercy? That depends. He needs help, REAL help. And that road is a long and winding thing. But I believe in my innermost heart that he'd have the support he needs. If I ever thought my sibling was dead, but then they popped up a decade later, even if they had committed horrible crimes I legitimately believe that I'd give them another chance. And the same with my mother. For all the crime shows she watches, she always says that she'd turn me in, but I honestly doubt she would, and even if she did I think she'd stand by me. There's something about being the first child, your mothers 'first baby'. There has only been a couple times my mother has called me her first baby, but it is never a pretty thing. It's heart wrenching, every time she's called me that it's been voice cracking, heart breaking situations. And every time I look at Dabi, I can almost hear Rei's voice, cracking, "my first baby." I refuse to believe his mother and siblings would abandon him, I reject that possibility absolutely.

And that's not even taking The League into account, because whether you like it or not, Dabi cares about all of them in some way. My whole point being; Dabi has a lot more people who care about him than he thinks, which seems to be a common theme with people who have a low self-worth.

So there's that, now on to the less pleasant side of things. So; would death REALLY be a mercy? And that's the million dollar question, isn't it? Unfortunately, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that Dabi couldn't possibly be happier than if he burned himself alive, taking everyone he wanted with him. I think he truly believes death is the only option, because he's been so miserable, so hurt for a full fucking decade at this point, he just wants it to end. When you've been so thoroughly rejected and neglected by someone who is literally 50% of your life, that hurt never goes away. Then factor in that someone believes their entire family is the same, you've got a recipe for disaster. And whether or not that's the 'good' or 'right' decision, it doesn't change the fact that it's a very human response to perceived rejection. Just because it isn't 'actually' real doesn't mean it doesn't feel VERY real to whoever it is happening to.

So I guess at the end of all this, I say what Dabi really wants is a 50 / 50 shot. Unsatisfying, I'm sure. But I really do think he feels both ways.

But I do need to add in that I NEED this God damn singed fucker to live, because if he dies not only is it going to be thematically awful for him and Shouto, but I personally will never recover.

As sad as it is, this ridiculous fictional character was the only thing that made me realize that I was fixating on my own sperm donor (who I haven't spoken to in over a decade) and that I need to GET A GRIP and fucking move on.

That's the main reason I need Todoroki Touya to live, because I'm selfish and sad and I need to see that he can live through this hell. Because if he can do it maybe I can do it too.

#I have too many feelings #dabi #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia

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highvern · 6 hours

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This feels outrageous to ask this, but bear with me. I know you said who you think in seventeen would be what type of benders, but do you think any of them would use their bending for like…sexual purposes ?

I’m just saying it feels kinda like an untapped market! If my firebender boyfriend slapped my ass with a hot hand, I wouldn’t be too opposed 🤷🏽‍♀️

okay so i went back to my og post and picked a few i think would be fun (ignore the fact its my bias line thats completely UNRELATED). i think some elements are more difficult to imagine than others but im being creative

cheol -> earth bender. he'd be able to bend your very own custom set of handcuffs anywhere needed. congrats. if you're not an earth bender then its a fun for him. if you are then its a game of trying to break out w/o him noticing first. bonus points if you get him restrained. oh the back and forth would be INSANE

wonwoo -> firebender. captain hot hand at your service anon. i feel like he'd also just give a v nice massage with his warm hands after a long day.... anyway. i also putting forth the idea of lighting bending and a few little shocks when feeling extra adventurous.

soonyoung -> air bender. sensory play with air. breeze on your nipples or you clit. maybe even some v creative breath play idk he's a freak. there's also soundbending so another form of sensory deprivation. you can't hear what he's doing

seokmin -> water bender. ice/temp play. freezes the sweat on your body. also a million streams of water brushing against your skin??? oh boy oh boy

mingyu -> earth bender. OKAY SO imagine this in a very different way like he's the one blindfolded and is using seismic sense to detect where his partner is/their next move. so the name of the game is trying to catch him off guard.

#svthub #answered ask #anon ask #🫡 highvern #svt smut #svt crack #seventeen smut #seventeen crack #seventeen #choi seungcheol #kwon soonyoung #jeon wonwoo #lee seokmin #kim mingyu

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junejasprose-addict · 2 days

Text

I'm moving different

We smoking juju

She tried doing psionics on my ass, i snapped her silver cord in half and flossed with it. This shit ain't nothing to me man

where moving different man. where making this hapen

My money longer than act 6

I make more money in a week than crockercorp does in a year

Yesterday i killed someone over vriscourse

You wouldn't survive a day in my session. Just to challenge myself, I prototyped my kernel sprite with heroin laced garlic bread and the taxidermy wooly mammoth I keep in my trophy crypt. Every imp had the vengeful spirits of extinction in them, and their blood was poison. I felt alive

Kanaya thinks she's a rainbow drinker, but she's not him. I am!

I'm already him

I'm the ultimate him

I read all 8000 pages of himstuck

I'm a member of the himnight crew

I died in my quest coffin and ascended to him tier, and nothing changed, because ive always been him

We smoking that sburban jungle trickster mode post canon god tier build grist

That tentabulge got me feeling disappointed and inert

My hands can coexist with your crushed wind pipe you stupid bitch

I fought the homestuck, I put the clown down

I'm dracula. I'm 12 million years old. I'm thinking different. I made sburb. I programmed that shit, waited a few millenia, then put it on some random kids' computers, and now we're here. This was always the plan

I flipped a brick to the batterwitch hours before [s] collide, she was high off her ass when them kids beat the shit out of her. Now I have a whole new universe to fuck with

Got it all on camera, put live leak out of business

She sucked my meat AND my candy. I had a picnic on her ass

That green skeleton king put a tooth in me, I got quantum poisoning, so she fucked me in the back of my dead dad's 2007 Volkswagen beetle before my family reunion

I don't pull out, I sylladex the cum before it can reach her cruxite dowel

I alchemized a 1399 bottle of mead with a pound of crack, cost me more grist then there are stars in the milky way. When I woke up, I was naked and afraid

Hussie tried to kill me, they forgot that you can't fight the dracula

Bec noir whimpered when he saw my fangs, he knew his time was up

I did something wrong

Ultimate self? Fuck that, I killed every other version of myself in all of paradox space. Well, except for junedraculasprite^2, she was kinda chill

My balls smoother than doc scratch's head

This zaza got terezi loco

This Zaza got terezi sane

Junejasprose is all I think about

I fucked a horrorterror, worst mistake of my life. I had tentacles clogging up my sylladex, and I had several bricks at the bottom of my deck. Took 30 business days for me to get to that shit, money hemorrhaging more than my ass was

I showed up to the convention in my thief of blood god tier clothes, when a pack of eridan cosplayers made fun of my hairline. Now they're thralls in my basement, playing jump rope with each other's intestines

I snapped a horn off of some dude's skull and grafted it onto my own. Then we had a unicorn joust, and I skewered his stupid ass. Blue rained on me like I was Brad armstrong

Princes don't live in ships, they sleep in coffins. Only gills you'll have is the bite marks on your neck

This shit ain't nothing to me man

#homestuck #dracula flow

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morganski-19 · 3 days

Text

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 18: Tomorrow

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 17

Present Day, May 1987

Julie sits down at her lunch table, unpacking her lunch and picking at the bread of her sandwich. Wondering if today is the day where she can eat all of it. Instead of just taking a few bites and throwing the rest out. Preferring to pick at the other snacks in her lunch than eat something in whole.

Hoping that she can just start acting normally again instead of really fucking weird. That when El asks her a question, she can respond without stuttering. Without reacting. That her cheeks will remain unflushed when El inevitably gives her a compliment. Her hand will stop fidgeting while she sits there, waiting for something to happen. Act nonchalant. Like nothing is wrong.

Even though a lot is. Her mind battles each day with thoughts that she doesn’t want to have. She didn’t ask for this feeling to come. Nor did she want it. But it’s here and she can’t’ seem to get rid of it. No matter how hard she tried. And she tried.

She tried doing something every time she thought of El. Something monotonous, something she hates. Like doing the dishes or taking out the garbage. To make some association in her mind that would make the crush more unfavorable than it already is.

She tried avoiding being alone with El. Only hanging out with other people around so Julie could fade into the background. There would be other things to focus on then. Things to distract from the thoughts that gave her butterflies.

She tried just ignoring it. Every time Julie thought of El, she pushed it down in the depths of her mind and tied it up. Trying to get it out of the way, hoping to leave it there to rot. But without fail, it managed to return a million times worse than it had been before.

The thing was, no matter what, it never worked. Doing the monotonous tasks only left space in Julie’s brain to wander. Think of something funny El said that made her laugh. No matter what, El made sure Julie didn’t fade into the background. Always pulling Julie to sit next to her, engaging in conversation. Falling behind with Julie when she was trailing behind the group. And ignoring it just flat out didn’t work.

It's a crazy thing. Now that’s it’s happening, Julie can say that she’s never had a crush like this one before. One where the laughter sticks in her mind so much that she tries her best to draw it out. Where the smiles shine a bit brighter than they did before, and the most miniscule of touches ignites her heart. Makes the blood rush to her cheeks and forces Julie to curl into herself. Turn away.

No one can know that this is happening. No one can know that Julie is like this. She doesn’t want to be ostracized from the only friend group she’s ever had.

Not that she thinks they would care that she likes girls. She actually knows that they would be ok with it. With half of them already asking her when Steve and Eddie are going to finally admit that they are dating, to Will coming out as gay a few weeks ago, it would be positive. What’s different is this crush on El. She doesn’t know how they would react to that. How El would react to that.

The thing about her place in this friend group is that it’s not cemented like the rest of them. They all have some sort of bond that Julie doesn’t understand. Probably will never understand. Something that connects them beyond years of friendship. Something deeper.

It’s probably connected to when Will went missing a few years ago, or to the mall fire that they were all present for. Or something completely different that makes Steve scream out in the middle of the night. Makes Robin’s or Eddie’s, sometimes even one of the kids’, voices shake when they call in the middle of the night, begging for Steve to answer. Something Julie’s grateful that she didn’t have to witness but wonder what it really was.

What was the bed thing that El couldn’t tell her that night? Why was it so bad that she’s better off not knowing? And how did these kids become so unfortunate to witness it all?

“Your hair looks nice today, Julie,” El compliments as she sits down.

She’s wrong. Julie’s hair is pulled back in a French braid, hoping that it hides the fact that she hasn’t washed it in days. The same things she’s been doing for the past few weeks. Still, her head ducks to hide the red of her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Taking a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from talking more.

The rest of the group sits around them. Dustin sits next to Julie, probably to bug her about the next book he’s forcing her to read. Well, not forcing. They apparently have very similar reading tastes. But she’s not really listening. Stuck in some form of trance. Feeling weird about herself and staring.

It just happens to be at the person sitting across from her. That’s what she tells herself. It's not because of everything else. Definitely not because El’s outfit is really cute, and Julie wants to say something about it but is afraid that it will come off weird. Complimenting a friend is something completely natural. Normal even. But there’s a line she’s afraid of accidentally crossing. So afraid to do anything that would make El suspect that her feelings have changed.

Afraid that anyone will find out that her feelings have changed. She can’t have that happen.

“Julie,” El’s voice breaks her trance. “Can you come?”

Julie blinks, forcing her head to meet El’s eyes. “Sorry?”

“We were going to have a movie night at Max’s house tonight, can you come?”

She swallows the rejection that forms on her tongue. “Uh, sure. Are we going right after school?”

“Yeah,” Max adds. Giving Julie an interesting face. Like she can tell that something’s off with Julie. Hear the uncertainty that runs through her voice. “Some of us already have rides if you need one.”

Julie feels her body stiffening, trying to act normal. This is anything but normal. “Uh, yeah, I would. I biked here today.”

The bell rings, saving her from any other awkward interactions. She gets up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and rushing out the door. Throwing away the mostly untouched lunch on her way out.

There’s a tap on her shoulder before she makes it too far. Dustin giving her a look like he’s trying to read whatever’s going on in her head. “Are you ok, you seem off?”

Julie nods, not selling anything. “Yep, totally ok. That's for checking in.”

She turns on her heel and rushes down the hallway to her next class before he can get in another question.

. . .

Steve gets home before Julie. Heats himself up some leftovers for dinner and settles on their new couch in front of the TV. Relaxes after a long day of meetings and telling customers that no, he can’t wave the late fee just because they don’t want to pay it. Telling them very sternly that they could at least rewind the tape if they don’t want to return it on time.

It’s the only reason he’s back so late. He let Robin go home and leave him to finish up the afternoon shift. Helping out the next person working by taking all of the unwound tapes into his office to rewind in there while filling out some paperwork he’s been avoiding. Telling himself that it’ll all be worth it once he gets his paycheck.

When Julie gets home, she drops her backpack on the living room floor, dramatically falling onto the couch with a groan. He snorts, trying to hide it. But honestly, seeing her act more like herself is a relief compared to a few weeks ago.

“It’s not funny,” Julie protests, sitting up. “It is far from funny.”

“You’re right,” Steve says, trying to hold in his laugh. “Long day?”

Julie glares at him. “Yeah, long day. I can barely act right around El and now Dustin has picked up that I’m acting weird and keeps asking me if I’m ok. Which I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that. And it’s all just,” she makes and explosive gesture in front of her, leaning back into the couch.

“Good luck, he’s not one to let things go.”

“I know. It’s basically a daily thing now asking if you and Eddie are together. Which I had promised to tell him if I knew something was going on. And now I do but it’s not my business to tell him.”

Steve thanks her for that. Not quite sure how and when he’s eventually going to tell the rest of the group about him and Eddie. He promised that as soon as the court case was over, he would. But as that date keeps slowly creeping up on him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be ready for that.

The thing was, once everyone knew about it, it wouldn’t be just his and Eddie’s relationship anymore. There would be the jokes and the talking. The reactions of how everyone thinks about it. Support and surprise. Maybe some disdain. He’s not sure.

Steve has been weird about relationships for a long time. With every relationship, it would spread like wildfire through the high school hallways. Whispers of his night life following him as he walked. At first, he liked it. Wanted the reputation to spread, wore it like the crown that metaphorically rested on his head.

But as he grew up, as his relationships became more intimate. More sacred. He didn’t like the rumors anymore. Sure, he wasn’t one to shy away from PDA. Loved to wear his heart out on his sleeve, show everyone how much a person meant to him.

It was different, though, keeping a relationship a secret. Made it more special in a way he’s never experienced before. With the way this town would react to his relationship, it would always have to be hidden on some level. Kept between their small group of people.

It’s been so long since he’s been in a semi-public relationship. He doesn’t quite know how to go about it anymore.

“Talk to him about that book he lent you, that’ll shut him up for an hour or two.”

Julie sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that.”

“I have nothing else to help here, good luck.”

“It’s not like it’s all that bad. It’s kinda nice to know that he cares enough to check in, make sure everything’s ok. I just wish he knew how to give me some space until I’m ready to talk about it.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, never quite got around to teaching him that.”

He lets the silence fill the room before changing topics. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. And I know you already have a lot to think about, but I want you to just start thinking about this. You don’t have to give me an answer right away.”

“Ok,” she says concerned.

“I’ve been talking with Sarah over the last couple of weeks, discussing what the next steps could be if you wanted to move forward with this. But I haven’t really filed for anything yet because I wanted to ask you first.” He takes a deep breath. Nervous for some reason he doesn’t really know. “Would you, maybe, want me to try and get permanent guardianship of you?”

“Yes,” Julie answers without missing a beat. “I would very much want that.”

Steve’s not sure why he thought she would answer any differently. “Ok, good. I would want that too.”

She smiles. “Good. What would that all mean, then?”

“Well, I’d be putting in to be your guardian, officially, until you turn eighteen. Then like everyone else, you’d be an adult and can make your own decision. But it would take going in front of a judge, proving I'm fit to fill that role. Then it would be official.”

Sarah says it would actually be a very smooth and easy process. Since Julie’s much older than most of the kids that go through this, and is already acclimated to living with him, it would be a bad decision not to grant him the guardianship. Plus, with the money that Rebecca left for Julie, she’s pretty much already cared for after high school. Steve just has to worry about getting her through until then.

Which should be fine. Now that he’s finally getting the last of the furniture, the expenses are starting to even out. There’s more money sitting in his account and his savings are starting to grow again. Everything is working out better than he planned them to.

He’s happy in this little house. With Eddie lying next to him on most nights, coming through the door before the sun goes down now that Julie knows. Julie finding her way back to herself after the roll of emotions dies down, becomes less present in her mind. Steve finally letting go of the thoughts that plague his mind, make him think that everything’s going to fall apart the minute he messes up.

And he does, no one’s perfect. But he’s found people that understand that, call him out in a way that’s needed but full of love. Full of understanding.

It’s all that Steve has ever wanted.

“So, you’d be going to court again. For this. I don’t want you to do that if it’s too stressful.”

Steve shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be. Sarah is pretty confident that the judge will look at us for twenty minutes and just sign the papers. And if it’s longer, I don’t care. I want this to happen. I don’t mind, really.”

Julie nods. “Ok, only if you’re sure about it.”

“Believe me, I am.”

. . .

Two weeks later

Steve wakes up on his birthday with Eddie’s face pressed between his shoulder blades. Arms holding his torso in a death grip. He ignores the need to get up to sit in it a while longer. The clatter of a familiar metal bowl hitting the kitchen floor breaking all hopes of staying in bed any longer.

He pries Eddie’s arms off of him, leaving him still asleep on the bed. Wandering into the hallway, he makes a stop in the bathroom before seeing what’s going on in the kitchen. Finding Julie squinting at a cookbook with a pile of ingredients on the counter.

She jumps when Steve clears his throat. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Julie tries to move in front of the counter, doing a poor job of hiding what’s behind her.

“No, I was already awake. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She avoids eyes contact. “Why don’t you just go back to bed.”

Steve continues walking into the kitchen, watching as Julie shifts to hide the stuff behind her. He swiftly reaches behind her to grab the book, seeing it open to a pancake recipe. Julie makes a sound of protest as she tries to grab the book back.

“You’re making pancakes,” Steve says with a surprised smile. “That’s what you were trying to hide, you can make breakfast anytime you want.”

“Yeah,” Julie says, defeated. “Thought it would be nice for you to not have to make breakfast on your birthday.”

“Yeah, that would be kind of nice.” He hands the book back to Julie. “Call me if you want help.”

“I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen.” Julie rolls her eyes. “Happy birthday,” she calls down the hall as he walks away.

Steve returns to his bed. Eddie blearily pulling him close before falling asleep again. He somehow falls into a light sleep. Getting up when he hears the dishes clanking in the kitchen, each one thudding on their new table.

He shakes Eddie awake, watching as he fights to keep his eyes closed. Face squishing up in protest, rolling away from Steve and gripping the blankets close to his chest.

“Come on, Julie made breakfast.”

Eddie doesn’t move, faking snoring.

“You don’t snore like that.” Steve sighs, getting out of bed. “I’ll save you some.”

He walks back out of the kitchen, watching as Julie sets a plate piled with pancakes on the table. Finishing with pouring some coffee into mugs and pacing them at each spot.

“It looks good,” he says, startling her.

“Jesus Christ, a little warning would have been nice.”

Steve laughs, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“They’re a little lumpy,” Julie explains while sitting down. “And some might be a little burnt, but they’re good.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Steve assures, stabbing some with his fork.

Julie does the same, topping them with some maple syrup. “Is Eddie still asleep?”

It’s nice to talk about him with someone else. Act like they are a couple in his own house. Not having to keep them so secret anymore. “He’s pretending to be.”

Halfway through breakfast, Eddie finds his way to the table. Hair tangled and frizzy. He stops them from trying to talk to him until he finishes his first cup of coffee.

After breakfast, Julie insists on doing the dishes herself, almost having to push Steve out of the kitchen. But he lets her, goes to get changed so he’s not hovering around the kitchen. Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Happy birthday. Now we both can buy alcohol legally.”

Steve laughs. “That’s the first thing that you think of.”

“That’s the first thing everyone thinks of when you turn twenty-one. Not just me.”

“Sure.” Steve turns around to give Eddie a kiss. “Thank you.”

“How about we go see a movie, do something just the two of us.” Eddie releases Steve to rummage around in the dresser to find something to wear. Pointedly avoiding his own drawer to find one of the shirts that Steve had stolen. Stealing it back.

Steve pulls a polo over his head. “Is that because you want to, or because Robin told you to get me out of the house so she can throw a not-so-secret surprise party.”

“I was definitely not told to keep you far from the premises between the hours of two and five o’clock. But I could just want to spend time with you. Is that such a crime?” Eddie walks over to Steve and presses something into Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down at the metal chain in his hand. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday present,” Eddie explains, walking over to the dresser to pick up one of his rings. He takes the chain from Steve’s hand and unclasps it, threading it through the ring. “So you can wear this, if you wanted to.”

The ring is the one Eddie wears on his right hand. The silver band and dark stone. “This mean anything?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not really. Just wanted you to wear something of mine that isn’t a piece of clothing that I severely miss.”

“You won’t miss this, you wear is every day?” Still, Steve slips the chain over his head. Letting the ring settle in the middle of his chest.

“I have others, just don’t wear them that much. Plus, now I’ll never lose it because you never lose anything.”

“No, I just never throw things in a corner and expect to find it again.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Seriously though, want to see a movie? Get lunch? Literally anything?”

“Yeah, sure. A movie sounds nice.”

. . .

The house is full of unorganized chaos. Robin is frantically running around trying to make sure everything is perfect. While Dustin and Lucas keep getting into small arguments about who knows what. Max is sitting off to the side either laughing at them or telling them to shut the hell up. Mike is just sitting on the couch, refusing to do anything while Nancy keeps trying to get him involved. The only people being helpful at all are El and Julie. And even then, they keep getting in their own way or Robin’s way.

It’s a mess. Food is haphazardly placed in the kitchen and across the coffee table. There are streamers all over the floor with only some of them making it to the ceiling. Somewhere, balloons keep popping and the music keeps being changed over and over again.

“Can you two quit changing the station after each song is played, Jesus fucking Christ,” Robin yells in the kitchen. Pouring a bag of chips into a bowl.

“I would if Lucas stopped putting the stupid sports radio on,” Dustin argues.

Lucas groans. “I’m trying to hear the scores. It’s a big game.”

“You and your stupid sports. This is a party we’re planning here.”

“Yeah, badly,” Max comments, crossing her arms.

“You can’t even see how bad it is,” Mike mutters.

Max glares at him. “I’m blind not stupid, idiot.”

“Why don’t we all just take a breath,” Will suggests, trying to calm everyone down.

Lucas changes the station again.

“Would you just-.” Dustin starts to scream. The group getting into an argument.

Julie sighs, starting to pick the streamers off the floor and handing them to El. She sticks them to the wall with an extra piece of tape, making sure they don’t fall again.

“Are we sure Steve even wants this party,” Julie asks. “The only reason I even found out about his birthday was Robin telling me two weeks ago.”

El shrugs, taking another streamer out of Julie’s hands. “I do not know. This is the first time we have ever thrown one for him. I think that is why Robin is so upset.”

“And going slightly insane,” Julie adds. Watching as she rips the radio out from between Dustin and Lucas and places it on top of the cabinets. “Did you guys really not know it was Steve’s birthday?”

“Yeah,” El takes Julie’s hand as she steps down from the chair they were using as a stepladder. “He was secretive about it for a long time. Told Dustin the wrong day and everything. We only knew the real date because Robin stole his driver’s license to find out.”

Julie’s trying to ignore the way that El continues to hold her hand when she doesn’t need it. “Maybe this was all a bad idea.”

“It’s not,” Nancy interrupts. “I told him about it a week ago.”

“What. Why?” Robin complains.

“Cause he hates surprises, and his birthday. And walking into his house looking like a tornado hit it.”

“It’s looking better,” Julie defends.

Nancy tilts her head to the side, looking over to the mess that still sits in the living room. “It could just use some finishing touches, that’s all.”

Finishing touches was setting up all of the food in the kitchen with the exception of a few bowls of chips. It was for the radio to return to the spot in the living room with the promise of it staying on one station and one station only. Nancy glaring at Lucas and Dustin until they agreed. It was Mike getting off his ass and helping straighten up. Until the party looked a little like a party.

Now they were just waiting for Steve to arrive.

“You are wearing your hair down today,” El comments.

Julie wasn’t wearing a French braid or a ponytail today. Her hair actually cooperating with her this morning, not drying in a weird wave pattern. So she wore it down. It probably won’t stay that way much longer, her hair can only get into her face so much before it gets annoying.

“Yeah,” Julie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thought I could do something different today.”

El smiles. “It looks really nice. I wish my hair was as long as yours.”

Julie looks at the short curls that crown El’s head. A colorful hairclip pulling back some of the longer bits right above her ear. “I think your hair’s cute.”

She wills the flush rising to her cheeks to calm down. It wasn’t meant in any certain way, she just felt it was true.

“Thank you, but I am still letting it grow. The longest I have ever had my hair was around here.” El places her hand right below her shoulder, showing how long it was. “I miss that hair.”

“Did something happen that made you cut it?”

The question seemed harmless, but El’s face falls. “Yes.” Is all she says.

Julie ignores the need to ask more. Thankful that the door opens, forcing the mood between them to shift.

Steve stumbles through the front door, Eddie’s hands over his eyes. Waiting for the cue to remove them. When Robin gives him the thumbs up, Eddie removes the hands on Steve’s eyes. The group yelling an out of sync surprise.

The smile that catches Steve’s face is contagious.

“Thanks guys, this looks great.”

“Thank god,” Robin dramatically says. “I was scared you were going to hate it.”

Steve throws his arm over her shoulder. “Yeah well, I did have some warning. And I can say this exceeded my expectations. It takes a lot to wrangle them to help out.”

“Not if you threaten them enough,” Nancy adds.

The party officially starts. The group forming little clumps as people get food and start conversations. Julie ends up on the couch squished on the end of the couch with El next to her.

It feels different than the hangouts they would have in the other house. Where the rooms separation was finite, and the noise only carried so far. Here, with people in the kitchen spilling out into the living room, the sound filling the walls and probably leaking outside. Everyone feels so close, even if they aren’t directly talking to each other.

The group somehow includes her in all of this. Making a space for her, welcoming her in. It’s breathtaking how it all happened.

“What happened to your ring,” Dustin asks Eddie.

Eddie looks down at his hand, the ring he normally wears gone. He shrugs, saying something along the lines of he lost it. Steve with a smirk on his face, silently asking Eddie something. It goes unnoticed. He's about to do something.

Steve pulls at a chain around his neck, revealing the missing ring from underneath his shirt. “I think I found it,” he smirks.

Eddie widens his eyes, surprised. “I thought we were going to wait until after court?”

Steve shrugs. “Fuck that, this was way more fun.”

Dustin seems frozen, eyes squinted at the chain. Like he has to make sure that the ring is the one he was talking about. Robin and Nancy are not so silently cracking up on the other side of the room. The rest of the kids with varied reactions.

“Fucking finally,” Max says annoyed.

El leans over to whisper to Julie. “So I was right? They are together.”

Julie snorts. “Yeah, they are."

Dustin catches this. “Wait, you knew?”

Julie wants to sink into the couch. “Kinda.”

“You were supposed to tell me about this. We made a pack.”

“We did not.”

Dustin makes an explosive gesture. “Yes, we did. I said I thought something was up, you said you agreed. Then you said you would tell me if you knew anything more. You knew something and didn’t tell me about it. Breaking the pact.”

“That is not a pack, dumbass,” Max butts in. Laughing at this whole situation.

“It really wasn’t,” Julie defends. “And I just got, like, official conformation about this a little while ago. I just didn’t get around to updating you about it.”

Dustin crosses his arms. “How long was a little while ago?”

“Like, three, maybe four weeks ago.” Julie shrugs to try and lessen the impact.

“So a month ago?”

“Yeah kinda.”

Dustin gaps. “How fucking dare you.” He picks up a stray pillow and throws it gently in Julie’s direction. Missing her entirely.

Lucas starts laughing. “You make fun of me all I want for liking sports but at least I can throw a pillow and hit something with it.”

“Don’t you start right now.”

Eddie and Steve start laughing, falling into each other. Looking totally and completely relaxed.

“That went way better than I thought it would,” Eddie wheezes.

“I know right.”

A few hours later, Robin starts to slowly convince the kids to clean up. With Nancy standing behind her making sure they actually listen. It shouldn’t be Steve’s responsibility to clean up his own birthday party.

Julie’s hair keeps falling in her face every time she bends over. She finally goes to tie it back, but the elastic breaks as soon as it stretches.

“Damn it,” she whispers under her breath.

“What?” El asks, wincing when Julie shows her the broken band. “Here,” El reaches into her pockets and pulls out a barrette. Sliding it into Julie’s hair, pining half of it behind her face. “That’s better.”

Julie can feel the heat rising to her face faster than she can try to stop it. Her hand coming up to touch the barrette, it radiating warmth. “Thanks,” she says impossibly soft.

El smiles before walking away to say goodbye to Max. The party slowly dispersing.

“What was that,” Dustin asks, dumping a pile of paper plates in the trash.

Julie sighs. “Can’t you mind your own business for once in your goddamn life?”

“That’s rude. I’m just looking out as a concerned friend. You're the one who’s acting weird whenever El does-.” His face lights with recognition. “Oh my god.”

Fear shoots through Julie’s veins. “No.”

“Yes,” Dustin whispers loudly. “That has to be.”

“It’s not what you think it is.”

Dustin gets a smug look on his face. “Oh, I think it is. You’ve been acting weird for weeks,” He starts to list out points on his fingers, “but only when El is around. Whenever she gets close to you, you either start stuttering or getting cagey. Your face becomes part tomato any time she says something nice or touches you. There's only one explanation.”

Julie tugs his arm away from the group. “Would you quiet down for two seconds.” She pushes him into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“Woah, your room is nice. I haven’t seen it since the move.”

“You cannot try and make this better by changing the subject.”

“So there’s a subject to change?” He crosses his arms proudly. “You like El, don’t you?”

Julie rolls her eyes. “That’s not something you can just ask about like that.”

“But I’m right?”

“Yes, you’re right,” she exclaims, sitting on her bed. “It’s so stupid.”

Very stupid. But true.

“It’s not stupid.” Dustin sits next to her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better. It’s very stupid.”

Julie reaches up to feel the barrette again. Knowing exactly which one it is. Feeling the bumps that form the small row of multicolored flowers. Replaying the feelings of El carefully gathering the strand of hair that was too stubborn to stay out of her face. Her hand resting just a second longer than it could have. Making sure it was perfect.

“That’s one of El’s favorite barrettes. She wears it all the time,” he comments.

“I know.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head.

“El loves wildflowers. It was one of the things she missed most about Hawkins when they lived in California, other than the town and her dad. The other people she left here. And I’m not trying to give you hope or anything, I don’t know what she’s thinking, but she only gives wildflowers to people she really cares about.”

Julie doesn’t even know how she feels about this all the time. Some days, it feels kind of good. Other days, it feels crushing. But still, the idea that El cares about her, on any level, fills her with a warmth that is indescribable. Unmatched. Something Julie’s never felt before.

Something that feels so good that she’s not sure how she ever thought it was a bad thing.

She touches the barrette again. “But it could just mean she cares about me as a friend.”

Dustin shrugs. “Yeah, it could. I’ve seen Max wearing it a few times.” He takes a breath. “But it means that El cares about you, no matter what. Even with this.”

Julie smiles. “Thank you. This has been really hard for me.”

“I’m sorry. I hope it gets better.”

“Yeah, me too.”

When El hugs her goodbye that night, Julie’s able to return it. Part of her satisfied with knowing that she has her as a friend. The other pulls just enough on her heart to make the moment sour. For the want to overshadow the joy enough to make an effect.

But another person knows. Another person accepts it. Didn’t judge her for it. Maybe soon, she’ll be able to stop judging herself for this. Making it worse than it needs to be.

Let the good feeling be the good feeling.

. . .

June 1987

Julie sits in the row right behind the prosecution stand. Eddie and Robin next to her, the rest of the kids and their families filling the rows behind them. Steve talking with his lawyer, getting the final details all in place. All of them waiting for it to start.

And for the defendant to arrive.

The sides of the courtroom were completely uneven. Steve’s side filled with people scattered through the rows. Almost strategically placed to make them seem larger. It wasn’t hard, there wasn’t a soul seated on the other side of the court.

The large doors open, three people filing down the aisle. Taking their place on the defendant’s side. The lawyer pulling out papers from his briefcase. Mrs. Harrington sitting with her eyes glazed over, looking bored. Richard Harrington staring daggers at Steve. Trying to get him to react. Do anything.

All Steve does is continue to talk to his lawyer, pretending like his dad isn’t even there.

This is the first time Julie’s seen her biological father. Having only heard of him, and seen old photographs. The ones that haunted Steve’s old house. Created an unsettling feeling once anyone walked through the door.

Now here he was, glaring, taking it all in. Stalking it like a predator hunting prey. Wanting to find the weakest link just to watch it break.

His eyes find her in the crowd. Staring. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a look back. He doesn’t deserve it.

She wonders if he recognizes her. Sees her mother’s features sewn together with his. The sharpness of her jawbone, the curve of her nose, the brown of her eyes, all from him. Mixed with the dark brown hair from her mom, the similar build, fairness of her skin. Does he see Rebecca in her? Does he hate Julie for reminding him of his past?

It doesn’t matter to her. What matters was the family he left behind. The family she knew. Her mom. Steve. Everyone else. The people surrounding her, all here to show their support for Steve. That is what mattered.

Especially now, as the judge takes the stand, and it begins.

The opening statements are made. Evidence is brought forward. Witnesses take the stand, questioned and cross examined. Each item telling a tale of a young boy that was left to his own devices way too soon.

That was the main point of the case, at least. The emphasis of the age Steve was first left alone is the heavy hitter. How he was left alone for hours on end, with an entire house to himself. No supervision. No check ins. Anything could have happened. This town wasn’t as safe as everyone thought it was.

When Steve takes the stand, having to face the questions and badgering from his father’s attorney, the jury looks pissed. As he recounts the times alone in the house, how scared he was as a kid. As the tears come to his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Not wanting to waste a single one more on his father. Showing the strength that someone of his age shouldn’t have.

He talks about his medical visits. The concussion he was sent to the hospital for in his freshman year after a bad fall on the basketball court. Brings up the ones after he was a legal adult, while he didn’t technically need them there anymore. It still didn’t look good.

Nothing changes the reaction in the defendant. If anything, it just makes him smugger. Him not understanding how any of this was bad. How bad he neglected his son.

It wasn’t until the verdict was read that the smirk was finally wiped off his face.

It was a unanimous vote. The plaintiff won.

. . .

The first thing Steve feels when the verdict is read is relief. Freedom. It’s over.

His lawyer pats Steve on the back and explains how he’ll take care of the transfer of funds. Will call to set up a meeting once the paperwork is filled out. Steve couldn’t care less.

He was believed. He fought, and won. Richard Harrington has no hold on him anymore.

As soon as he walks out of the courthouse, he’s met with more hugs and congratulations than he can count. People who came to support him, testify for him, believed in him.

People come over to the house that’s in his name. Bought for the people he cares about. Who care about him. A drink gets passed to him, someone turns on the radio. Voices flood the house, laughter, joy. He’s having a conversation with someone. A few people. Not being able to get a smile off his face. the feeling of disbelief sitting under his skin.

Tomorrow never looked brighter than it does right now.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

#i don't know which way's home fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #el hopper #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclai #mike wheeler #will byers #nancy wheeler #julie lawson #original female character #long lost/secret sibling au

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