#giving crumbs of stuff but at least some okay

[cobrakaisb]

come one, come all

summary: percy jackson has finally arrived at camp half-blood, so why is he so shocked to see that people have genuine relationships here? aka, the four times percy thought you were dating luke, and the one time he actually asked. 

word count: 3.2k

featuring: percy pov!!, 4+1, vaping (again), sassy man apocalypse in the form of luke castellan, reader straight up not giving a fuck, percabeth crumbs (but you gotta squint)

author's note: i am so sorry for the delay with this one!! i was studying for finals, but now that i'm home from college for the summer, hopefully the updates will be more frequent 🤞

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

hermes cabin, day one, early afternoon

“this is the hermes cabin, home to both his children and the unclaimed,” chiron explains, walking up to the very loud and very rambunctious building. 

percy peers inside, and he’s immediately filled with dread. there’s barely enough room in the cabin for the people that actually live there, let alone him. why couldn’t his father claim him already? if anything, percy thought losing his mother would have been enough; clearly it wasn’t. his dread only intensifies, however, when chiron starts clapping his hands, calling the attention of all the campers. 

“woah wait a minute,” percy mumbles, but it’s too late. 

“this is percy jackson, i trust you will see to whatever he needs,” chiron announces. 

it takes the campers approximately two seconds to go back to whatever they were doing beforehand. some campers’ eyes linger a little bit longer on him, but for the most part, they’re all indifferent to his presence. finding a spot proves to be difficult, as every nook and cranny is inhabited.

“you can sleep over there,” a girl says, annoyed.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, but it falls on deaf ears. 

the spot isn’t half bad, but it isn’t great either. he’s stuck in between two sets of bunk beds, on a sleeping bag. a sleeping bag. one would think the gods could splurge a little for an air mattress, but percy guesses they must be selfish, at least based on the signs of this cabin: overrun, overfilled, and underdeveloped. he’s unpacking his backpack, the last remnants of his life before his mom explained his paternal lineage, when the whispers start. 

“that’s the kid. i think he’s the one that killed the minotaur,” someone whispers, or at least they try to, but percy hears the whole thing. 

he turns around, and comes face to face with a group of older campers, all boys. they’ve clearly been here a while (in the hermes cabin, or at camp, percy isn’t sure) based solely on the fact that they’re so comfortable in this environment. a tall, curly black-haired boy steps forward, so percy stands up. he tries to size up the older boy, but if it comes to a fight, he doesn’t think he’ll win. 

“look, if you guys want to start something, can you just…do it tomorrow?” he asks. 

the older boy doesn’t say anything. instead, he just takes a moment to look at percy, up and down. percy’s breath catches in his throat when he catches sight of the long scar running from the corner of his right eye to his jaw. he’s intimidating, to say the least. 

“i’m..” the boy starts to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of loud laughter. 

percy turns to face the door, following the older boy’s lead, and sees two girls walk into the cabin. they’re both in workout gear, clearly just coming from a training session, but only one of them moves to drop her stuff on a bed — a bottom bunk in the left hand corner — and the other walks right up to the guy in front of him.

percy wants to warn her, tell her that she shouldn’t mess with this kid. but the grumpy guy smiles at her, completely forgetting about percy.

“busy day?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“something like that,” the boy mumbles, throwing a sideways glance in percy’s direction. 

“oh i see,” she answers slowly, and now both of their eyes are on him. 

“luke treating you okay?” she asks. 

percy gulps, unsure how to answer her. girls don’t really talk to him, but there’s a first time for everything, he understands that especially well now.  

“he literally just got here,” luke says, shoving your shoulder. 

you smile at the older boy, and there’s something more behind that stare, but percy can’t really figure out what. 

“if he steps out of line, you let me know,” she instructs, jabbing her thumb in luke’s direction. 

percy nods, “yeah sure.” 

she smiles at him, before walking towards the exit of the cabin. as she’s at the threshold between the inside and the outdoors, she turns around with a mischievous look in her eyes. 

“meet me later?” she asks. 

“i’ll be there,” luke answers. 

she nods, satisfied, and leaves. percy watches luke, who continues to watch her. his eyebrows furrow. maybe he just doesn’t understand teenagers?

hermes cabin, day two, morning

percy’s startled awake. the deep, guttural voice from his dream still haunting him. the darkness from the nightmare is looming over him like a dark cloud. his gasps and heavy breathing draw the attention of luke and his friends, the former leaving his bottom bunk to walk over to percy’s sleeping bag.  

“you okay?” luke asks. 

percy wonders if he’s genuinely concerned. “super,” he replies. 

“we all get them, y’know. deep, intense nightmares. comes with being a demigod,” luke explains, watching percy struggle to get up from his bed.

“so does adhd and dyslexia. they’re your battle instincts talking. everything that’s made you different, an outcast, is normal here,” luke continues to explain, now standing toe to toe with percy. 

there’s silence between the two. percy wants to ask him about his godly parent. it’s been weighing on him since he spoke with luke briefly yesterday. for some reason, however, he feels like the question is out of line, too personal for someone he just met. 

yet, he can’t help himself: “so are you also…do you not know…are you…”

“am i unclaimed? no, hermes is my father, but that doesn’t matter. we’re all family here,” luke replies, giving percy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“and the girl from last night…is she…?” percy asks. 

luke chuckles at his uncertainty, clearly finding humor in his embarrassing situation. “no. she knows who her mother is. you should ask her about it.” 

percy nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. he feels angry all of a sudden looking around the hermes cabin. it’s filled to the brim with campers, some who know who their parents are, and others who don’t. he doesn’t think anyone should have to live like this; it’s not fair. 

“how can the gods just bring us here and ignore us? how is that fair?” percy asks. 

luke shakes his head, “spend all your time trying to figure out why the gods do what they do and you’ll go crazy. besides, you haven’t even experienced the best thing that camp has to offer.” 

“what’s that?” percy asks. 

“glory.”

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. he vaguely remembers hearing mr. bruner, or chiron, talk about glory in class, but he can’t pinpoint the exact memory. the way luke talks about it, however, makes percy think that it must be important. there has to be some reason why everyone is fighting for glory, why they deal with all the dangers of being a demigod. 

“demigods used to fight for glory. they called it kleos. it attaches meaning to your name, making you bigger, scarier, and more important,” luke explains, leading percy outside of the hermes cabin, along with a handful of his friends. 

“it puts respect on your name,” luke’s friend, chris barges in. 

percy’s smiles at that. he likes the sound of glory, especially when some girl shoulders past him, pushing his body right into luke’s. percy stumbles, turning to face the back of the girl. he wasn’t going to deal with this bullying crap at summer camp of all places. 

“hey,” he shouts, getting her attention. 

she turns around, immediately shoving him into the ground. percy gasps, staring up at her in shock, but before she can get a word in, the girl from last night is standing in front of him. 

“knock it off clarisse. it’s like his first day,” luke mumbles. 

the girl from last night helps him up, and he smiles at her in thanks. she nods, giving him a once over, ensuring that he’s okay before she turns back to clarisse. it’s like a switch flipped inside her. those same eyes, the ones showing kindness towards him just a mere second ago, are now filled with cold, hard, anger. 

clarisse says something to taunt him, but the girl just shakes her head, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“jealous that it wasn’t you?” she taunts, stepping into clarisse’s personal space. 

“no,” clarisse snaps, facing the other girl head on. 

“really? cause it sounds like you wish you were standing in his shoes right now. maybe then daddy would give you a little bit of attention, huh?” she replies. 

luke whispers her name in a seething tone, hand pulling on her shoulder to move her away from clarisse. however, she jerks out of his grip, continuing to stare head on at the curly haired girl with a satisfied smirk playing at her lips. 

“you better watch your back,” clarisse snaps, looking at percy once again before storming off. 

“and you better watch yours,” the girl, who’s still standing in front of percy protectively answers. 

clarisse doesn’t respond, and so luke takes the time to reprimand you. his voice is soft, and percy can barely hear, let alone register, the words coming out of his mouth. you roll your eyes at whatever he’s saying, barely paying attention. instead, percy notices that your eyes aren’t leaving luke’s lips, and he’s again left wondering what’s going on between the two of you. 

“but if i wasn’t here, who was gonna play hero?” you ask, a soft pout on your lips.

percy can tell you’re teasing luke, trying to get a rise out of him, but the older boy just shakes his head in response. percy watches as your finger reaches under his bright orange shirt, looping through one of the belt loops of his cargoes. luke leans down slightly, and percy thinks he might kiss you, but you step away from him in a fit of giggles. 

“i’ll see you later, counselor luke,” you tease, walking backwards so everyone can see the teasing smile on your face. 

percy makes a mental note not to get on your bad side. 

dining pavilion, day two, evening

“is there a greek god of disappointment, maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” percy grumbles, taking a seat at the table across from luke and chris. 

after a long day of training, with little to no rewards, percy felt utterly defeated. there was some good that came out of the day’s events, however, as he realized his lack of coordination did not make him a strong candidate for the apollo cabin. similarly, setting fire to the already burning forges had luke and chris ruling out hephaestus. regardless, he just wanted his dad to recognize him. after a life of torment and the loss of his mom, the one person who loved him, he could use the validation.

luke opens his mouth, ready to answer his previous question, but chris beats him to it.

“oizys…but she’s a goddess and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s failure,” chris mumbles, pushing around the salad on his plate. 

“oh my gods chris, don’t scare the kid,” you shout, shoving his shoulder as you take a seat next to percy. 

another girl follows behind you, taking the seat on the other side of percy. he feels himself going rigid, why are these two older girls sitting by his side? he feels nervous all of a sudden, and wonders if this is normal. he looks nervously to luke, who seems to be the only one capable of providing actual guidance in these types of situations. 

luke doesn’t say anything, instead he’s too busy looking at you. 

“having daddy issues?” the girl on his right, who’s not you, asks. 

“um i guess,” percy answers, but he’s not confident in his words at all. 

the girl chuckles at him, a hand coming up to ruffle his blonde hair, and percy watches as her eyes twinkle with something akin to childish mischief. 

“maybe you’re her step-brother,” she says, gesturing towards you with a tip of her chin. 

“are you a child of aphrodite?” percy asks, because maybe this nice girl is referring to ares as his father. 

you stop chewing your dinner, shock crossing your features. the other three teens all burst into laughter, and percy doesn’t understand what’s wrong with his question. you’re pretty enough, and you seem to possess a tiny bit of mean girl energy (cause only regina george would have demolished clarisse like that). therefore, the logical conclusion is that you’re related to aphrodite. besides, aren’t ares and aphrodite secretly dating? so he’d be your step-brother? 

“what?” he asks, looking around. 

“aphrodite is not my mother,” you answer, white-knuckling the fork. 

“oh,” he says, “so who is?” 

percy watches as your jaw clenches, and you flash a dangerous look in luke’s direction. luke lifts his hands up in a state of defense, as if to say that he didn’t put percy up to this. you, however, don’t seem to believe him as you take one of the green grapes on your plate and chuck it at him. luke catches the grape in his mouth, chewing slowly with a smirk on his face. 

“almost sweetheart,” he taunts. 

you scoff before getting up from the table, with your plate, and walking towards the firepit in the middle of the pavilion. on your way over, you stick your fingers through luke’s curls, and shove his face down towards his mashed potatoes. 

“did i do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the remaining girl to his right. 

“nah, she’s always like that,” she answers.

“yeah,” chris mumbles, “if anyone knows it’s katrina.” 

they jump into their own conversation and percy watches as you drop your entire dinner into the fire pit. the flames turn a deep purple and you nod in satisfaction before walking off towards the cabins. 

he can’t figure out who likes the color purple, but wonders if it had anything to do with luke. however, he knows not to ask.

hermes cabin, day two, night

percy was supposed to be asleep twenty minutes ago, at least that’s when luke called for lights out and everyone crawled into bed. but, he really needs to use the bathroom. poor planning on his part, not going before bed time, but he knows he’ll never make it until morning. so, he gets up as quietly as possible, slips on his blue hoodie, and tip-toes towards the door of the hermes cabin. 

he hesitates for a moment, hearing two people talking quietly outside the door. he waits patiently, hoping that they’ll leave, but their conversation only keeps going. 

“and annabeth’s sure about this?” someone asks, and percy realizes that it’s you.

the other person scoffs, “you doubting my sister?”, and percy pinpoints the voice as luke’s.

“never. i’m doubting him,” you answer.

“c’mon, you know clarisse picks on everybody,” luke mumbles.

there’s a pause in the conversation, and percy thinks maybe you’ve left or moved on, but then your voice rings out into the quiet of the night: 

“i have this feeling that he’s important, but i can’t figure out why.” 

another pause. 

“we’ll see when he gets claimed,” luke answers. 

“if he gets claimed,” you reply. 

“he will, even if it’s hera style,” luke says, and percy can’t help himself from opening the door. 

“your mom’s hera? i thought she didn’t have kids!” percy shouts, shocking both you and luke. 

you jump, and percy watches as you move to hide the bright orange vape in your hand. you wave away some of the smoke, and luke steps slightly in front of you, blocking your body from percy’s view. he notices the protective edge in luke’s posture, and how there was already very little space between you two. 

“what are you doing out past curfew?” luke asks, staring percy down. 

“i could ask you the same thing, but for the record, i’m going to the bathroom,” percy explains, standing his guard. 

“just be quick, and watch out for the harpies,” you advise, tugging on the back of luke’s camp counselor shirt. 

percy nods before walking by the two of you to head down the stairs. once he’s a little ways away, he risks a glance back at the hermes cabin porch. you’re still standing there with luke, his palms resting on your waist as he rubs circles with his thumb on your exposed skin. you two are whispering about something, but he can’t figure out what. he sees you slip luke your vape, but looks away when the older boy takes a hit. 

that seemed oddly intimate. 

lakeshore, day three, post-capture the flag

he’s in for it now, at least that’s what he assumes when he sees half of clarisse’s spear in his fist. she screams loudly, and percy hopes that you’ll hear and come to his rescue. thankfully, his saving grace comes in the form of the head counselor of the hermes cabin. 

luke comes rushing down the side lines, holding the red flag high above his head. several people are following him, the entire blue team in fact, but percy can easily pinpoint you in the crowd. you don’t have a helmet on, which isn’t surprising to him; it fits your character. he notices how the baby hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, yet your eyes are bright and happy. this has to be the happiest he’s seen you. 

your eyes never leave luke, even as he accepts hugs, handshakes, and overall congratulations from the other members of the team. finally, after the novelty of winning wears off, and his siblings finally give luke some space, you walk over to him. you shoulder check him, causing him to stumble a little on his feet, but the happiness doesn’t leave either of your eyes. 

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. you’re mean to luke, but you’re also not mean to luke. 

“where’s my hug at?” luke asks, opening his arms wide for you. 

you snort at him, shoving him backwards with a firm hand on his chestplate. luke doesn’t seem to mind, however, as his smile widens and he pulls off his helmet. he shakes his head back and forth, letting his curls loose after being confined for so long. percy watches you watch him, bottom lip between your teeth. luke opens his mouth, ready to say something, but you prevent him from even doing so. instead, you grab onto the brown leather straps of his armor, and pull his lips down to yours.

all the campers ring out in cheers. some of them even clap at the display of affection from the two of you. 

“so they’re dating?” he asks no one in particular. 

“yes,” annabeth answers from beside him. 

he turns to look at her, understanding washing over him. you and luke are perfect for each other, balancing each other out. percy hopes he’ll find something like that with someone. he looks around camp, and his eyes land on annabeth, who magically appeared next to him. 

“hey wait…were you here the whole time?” percy asks her, feeling a little angry that she basically watched him get his ass kicked by clarisse. 

“percy,” she starts, “i’m really sorry about this,” and she pushes him into the water.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Hiiiii Robin aka Bird Boy!

Sorry I took a bit longer than usual to reply but dad suddenly decided he’d had enough of the forest and we went back home! I thought maybe it’d be fun to wait a bit longer and show you our house and stuff. I don’t really like moving around all the time but I guess it kinda gives you lots of new stuff to talk about so that’s something.

This is our house! It’s not as big as yours looks but there’s only two of us and we’re not always here so it makes sense that it’s not massive. Dad usually rents it out whilst we’re not here cos he says it’s better for the house that it’s looked after but I know he means it’s better for his bank too lol!! I guess it works out for me though cos he says I can put as many plants as I want in my room as long as I keep them alive so they’d die if we left it empty every time we left. He says it’s like I brought the jungle inside hahaaha, I like it though!

The last person who rented the house was one of dad’s old work friends and he left this cool telescope for me to play with since I’m “so keen about the stars and shit” HIS WORDS! I know you’re supposed to use it at night but it’s kinda fun to spy on people during the day too. Like I’m pretty sure our neighbours are getting a divorce cos I overheard the guy moaning about the lady to my dad once and sometimes you can hear them yelling and see them waving their arms at each other through the window or on the balcony (don’t tell anyone though hahaa!)

I think dad’s kinda happy to be back (look how bushy his eyebrows are though ahahhhahah) he spends a lot of time fishing but I know it’s only a matter of time until he gets itchy and runs out of money again. Half of me wishes he’d get a good job here so we wouldn’t have to move around all the time but the other half is glad to leave. I guess it’s kinda nice here AND I was born here but I don’t even like swimming and there’s water and beaches EVERYWHERE ugh..

I guess I don’t really think Sulani feels like home anymore, not since mom died. It’s pretty and it’s nice but something is always missing so it’s kinda lame too if that makes sense. Maybe that’s why dad likes to leave sometimes too, I’d ask him but he’d probably get upset so maybe not! I was gonna leave that part out cos it’s a bummer but we don’t really keep many secrets from each other so I said it…

Anyway, dad’s a pig and never cleans ANYTHING and I think he got bored of me complaining about how big and heavy the vacuum is cos he got me a cool mini one (it’s a “sorry we move around so much but here’s a present so shh” present but I’ll take it hahaa) he took it off me for a few days after I hoovered some crumbs out of his bed and sucked up his headphones by accident but that’s his fault for eating cookies in bed when he should be sleeping.

Oh and since there’s not many fun rocks to find or dig up here I decided to start up my shell collection again. I found a few nice ones I guess but I really want to find a conch! Dad said they’re pretty rare but you’d think with all the stupid sand and beaches around here that I’d be able to find at least ONE even if it was a tiny one but not yet! I’ll let you know if I do though!

Anyway, I’m kinda sad we left Granite Falls in the end cos it was so close to the holidays I hoped maybe your family would go camping again and we’d be able to explore together again. Hopefully next time we move we’ll move even closer to where you live so there’s more chance we’ll get to see each other! A bird pooped on me the other day though which dad said is supposed to be lucky so I decided to believe him and hope we get to hang out again one day SOON (after I had a shower anyway because EUGH!)

Hope you’re okay and glad to be done with school for the summer!

Love Alex :)

[amomentsescape]

J Squad sick and wanting Reader's attention nonstop

How the J Squad Would Act While Being Sick

Jerome Valeska x Reader, Jonathan Crane x Reader, Jervis Tetch x Reader

A/N: They'd be such a needy bunch for sure.

Jerome Valeska

The moment Jerome gets sick, it's game over

Gotham gets to breathe a sigh of relief while he's out of commission

However, that means all of the work ends up on you

This boy is already so clingy, but him becoming sick kicks that into overdrive

Will request constant cuddles and kisses

To be honest, Jerome doesn't care if you get sick or not either

In fact, if you get sick too, that's even better since then you'd get to lay in bed with him all day

And it's because of this carelessness that the bedroom turns into an actual contamination risk

He throws his tissues everywhere, has spilled several glasses of tea, and has somehow gotten food crumbs in the bed

But any time you try to come in and clean, Jerome is grabbing onto you and trying to drag you into bed with him

"C'mon, doll. Just for a bit...?"

If you refuse, he literally pouts

But don't think leaving the room will solve anything

He's constantly calling for you, insisting it's urgent

Only for you to run in there and realize all he wanted was a head rub

Jerome insists that getting out of bed is bad for his health and requests that you help him with everything

It's not even because he's lazy

He just wants to be babied and coddled all of the time by you

And unfortunately, your chances of catching his cold are pretty high

But at least then you can get pay back

Jonathan Crane

He's the sweetest boy to take care of

Is hesitant to ask for your help and attention at first

But after a few times insisting it's okay, he lets his clingy side show

Be careful if you decide to cuddle with him

There's no way he's letting you out of his embrace

If you don't give him a kiss each time you check on him, he thinks you've become angry with him

Part of his clinginess is his constant need for reassurance that you're not upset with him for being sick

The last thing he wants is for you to become annoyed

But as long as you tell him everything is fine, he's okay

Will refuse to take his meds though and will need lots of convincing in order to do so

You resort to putting the meds in your mouth and asking for a kiss

He falls for it every time

Will accept tea and soup when offered, but he feels bad asking for it himself

He only really cares about spending time with you and receiving your attention during this time of being sick

Everything else is secondary to him

Jervis Tetch

Jervis's mind always seems to be going a mile a minute

So even being sick, he somehow tries to push through it and keep up with his routine

However, feeling unwell seems to make him seek your affection even more than usual

Will have you sit on his lap while he reads or works

The moment you get up, he's immediately asking where you're going (even if it's just to the bathroom)

Wants you to participate in the same stuff he is too

Did you make him some tea for his throat? Well, pour yourself a cup

Did you warm up some soup on the stove for him? Then you should join him at the table with your own bowl

He doesn't want to do much unless you're doing it with him

If you have any chores to complete, Jervis is right behind you following your every move

He may occasionally exacerbate his headache or other symptoms in order to gain extra sympathy from you

But besides that, he acts pretty normal when he's sick

His energy is definitely much lower

But he's still incredibly attentive and a gentleman towards you

A needy gentleman

[lovebugism]

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element. 

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you. 

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful. 

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals. 

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice. 

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back.��

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious. 

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin. 

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter. 

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache. 

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him. 

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it. 

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh. 

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.” 

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High. 

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you. 

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep. 

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side. 

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now. 

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin. 

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna. 

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you. 

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word. 

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place. 

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused. 

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.  

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing. 

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another. 

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. 

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty. 

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes. 

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same. 

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills. 

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you. 

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him. 

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything. 

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim. 

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag. 

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something. 

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year. 

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something. 

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are. 

But it’s different. 

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined. 

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special. 

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it. 

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather. 

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her. 

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly. 

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too. 

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you. 

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it.  The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed. 

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway. 

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck. 

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...” 

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone. 

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit. 

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test. 

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?” 

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you. 

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words. 

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you. 

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want.  I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way. 

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two. 

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it. 

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly. 

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…” 

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?” 

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do. 

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely. 

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees. 

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless. 

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard. 

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning. 

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre. 

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip. 

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange. 

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you. 

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special. 

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own. 

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Patiently waiting for your thoughts on Fontaine’s new archon quest 🫡

oh man. i do have some thoughts to share.

(warning for spoilers to those who haven't played through the latest archon quest)!

OKAY, so — overall? i enjoyed it. the fortress of meropide section felt a little tedious at times, i'm begging mihoyo to abandon those awful 'stealth' 'gameplay' sections. aside from that though, i was always interested enough to keep moving ahead. i especially like how they wrote navia. the story of her and her father got me emotionally invested in her as a character, i actually teared up at one point.

i was glad they avoided their infamous 'introduce a character and have them betray you' shtick. idk if that was a quota they had to reach before and that's why they did it so often, but in any case, it made for a refreshing change. the reveal of fontaine's history, the serial disappearances, focalors and furina; there were lots of intriguing story beats. furina's story might somehow be one of the saddest in genshin yet?? the execution of the reveal and the final conversation between focalors and neuvillette packed a strong emotional punch.

onto my gripes...

childe. why. why'd they do my man like that. the buildup was so interesting! the cutscene where he helps neuvillette subdue the space whale had me frothing at the mouth. him in his foul legacy armor ... his leitmotif playing... him growling and grunting.... oh, how happy i was, naïve thing that i am. i was a bit confused how they dedicated a total of three seconds to traveler and the floating fiend going 'oh wow there's childe ig.' like ??? at this point in the story, i thought they were sorta buddies??

the space whale's execution confused me. i expected it to be deeply tied to fontaine's past, or at the very least give some abyss bread crumbs, but it just kinda flopped around and stuff. the fight was cool, don't get me wrong. but the whole 'yeah this whale is some dude's pet lol' bit just felt odd. i get that they want to prove the Big Important Name Fella is suuuper important and suuuper strong but c'mon. at least make the space whale a creation that ran rampant or something.

i could've forgiven the space whale shenanigans if we got a nice conversation with childe at the end. how did he feel in the abyss? was he fighting the whale to keep the people of fontaine safe, out of bloodlust, or something in between? what was it like seeing skirk again? how much time felt like it passed when he was in whale abyss prison? does his vision resonate with him properly again?

instead, we just get a few throwaway lines that he's back in snezhnaya healing up. did they run out of budget to book his VA?? i get they have to be selective with lore drops, but there are so many ways around that.

my last major gripe is how they went about furina's character quest. maybe i'm just an oversensitive weenie (i definitely am), but the traveler and flying creature's interactions with furina... i was physically grimacing. how did they seriously think it was a good idea to ask the person who has been tormented by acting for 500 years to give the stage another shot? imo, it would've been fine if they tried that, furina rejected them, and everything played out about the same. but those bits where traveler + the imp kept pressuring furina felt so weeeeeeird. i genuinely didn't want to click the dialogue options. if this was framed differently, that would've also been fine, but it's kinda a 'haha :3 epic paimon says teehee te nandayo reddit gold' light.

tl;dr i liked the overall experience but someone needs to delete paimon from the game + treat their characters as more than a punchline.

[andromeda-vita]

well that was disappointing.

i cant. put anyt i feel right now into words. yesterday was nice! and i thought the stream would rlly give us some more stuff

sure we got shadows and outlaws which are pretty cool in their own sense!

but. that's what like . 11 years now with no new games? a whole decade? a DECADE. OF DROUGHT- WITHOUT RAYMAN?? the most we get is a board game and a dlc like. okay i guess ? for having to wait that long why do we get little crumbs?

i mean the nintendo direct later this month might be something. still, i am so hurt . ive waited months for this only to just be driven into the ground. genuinely have no idea why ive invested so much time and effort into these games other than how cool the community/fandom is for it

(love yall btw <3 thank you. for existing)

somehow, w no expectations they managed to go LOWER... at least he popped up once or twice in convo/gameplay

look at this little dude... popping up in a treasure chest. you'll always be real to meee 💔

[avatarmerida]

New brain rot? No, just Huntlow in a different font. It’s a Willina (?) HC/ if I wrote a fic this would be it but also I dunno if I will get so here are some crumbs under the cut if you care:

William gives me the vibes of like he is a grimwalker that Belos made but he’s the only one he’s gotten right so he has to “preserve” him until he’s needed because making a grimwalker is hard let alone a sustainable one. So that’s why he’s doing the classic sleeping thing and in his mind he’s under a curse which is why he can’t like remember a lot about his past or who he is and that’s where his arc stems from like he believes stopping by wild magic will restore his memories or something.

Also I feel like a fun little twist since this version of Hunter is very Disney-esque and I think he’d still be made of palistrom trees if they did like a Pinocchio type thing where he can’t lie (or at least can’t lie to Belos) without it causing him pain or like branches grow from him and he just chalks it up to the curse not to the clone thing. I also picture him like that frog from the Swan Princess movie where he’s convinced a kiss from a princess will save him but since he’s been asleep for who knows how long there are no royalty left.

And then okay also his is instantly charmed by Paulina. Like he just thinks she is so cute right away and she’s the only person who isn’t annoyed with his speeches of his backstory and mission and is genuinely nice to him. And they meet sooner in this version and Paulina takes longer than Willow to migrate to the plant track and maybe practices in secret and confides this to William in exchange for his secret about the lying thing. And she’s like “That’s awful, I wish I could help you.” And he’s like “I appreciate it, but only a princess can.”

And I fully subscribe to the HC that he calls her princess as a nickname and so she says “I’d like the try anyway.” And she’s not great at magic but she tries anyway and there’s a montage of them trying different spells and potions and stuff and then either they discover or William finally mentions that a kiss from a princess is how the spell was broken (according to the stories which are not factual but we’re brought over by Belos to like help manipulate people somehow) and Paulina plant girl is like “OMT there is a flower called Princess kiss and it’s rare but maybe that’s it.” And they go on a little quest where they get to know each other better and they find the flower and all it does is make him sneeze a bunch. It’s clear the books mean a literal kiss.

So William is so grateful but poor Paulina is like “If only I was a real princess, and not just a half a witch then I’d actually be able to help you.” And William blushes as he little brain process the fact that she basically said she would kiss him if it would help him and he’s like “Well, it couldn’t hurt to try.” And then they get very close to kissing before being interrupted (of course).

And then later on, William is like on to Belos and done with him and goes to tell everyone but Belos doesn’t wanna destroy him because he worked hard to make him so he turns him into a frog while he makes up another sleeping potion to try again later. And frog William tries to warn everyone but he is not a talking frog so he can’t communicate with them but he brings Paulina the princess kiss flowers and starts sneezing and Luz is like “I didn’t know frogs could sneeze?” (And idk if they do let’s pretend they don’t, Amphibia fans don’t come for me) and Paulina is like that’s weird and she puts two and two together and realizes it him and while they’re trying to figure out how to reverse it, she’s holding him tightly and assures him it’s gonna be okay and gives him a gentle kiss atop his head and he transforms back.

He’s so overjoyed and he picks her up and spins her around and he’s like “I told you being a princess was about more than a shiny crown.” Or something which is a callback to a conversation they had before. It doesn’t cure the grimwalker thing because that’s not a curse it’s what he is but then every time something goes wrong he’s like “Paulina can just kiss me and it’ll be okay.” And everyone is like “Dude you cannot just think you’re invincible because her kiss undid one super outdated curse.” And he’s like “Well it can’t hurt to try.” (It still can, btw) And Paulina is just a blushing smitten mess about how her scrawny little prince truly thinks there is nothing she can’t do.

Idk I feel like it would be a longer fix to explain all the differences but it’s an AU that I would get messy with and a little confused but that’s the vibe I got from th like 10 second clip.

[moobloom-mention]

They Don't Call Him the "Great Sage" for Nothing

Summary: MK isn't new to being frustrated when it comes to learning "Mystic Monkey" abilities. But of all things, he never thought shrinking would take four hours to finally learn.

...now he just has to learn how to return to sweet, tall, 5'9" MK before Macaque comes to bother Monkey King. That should be easy enough, right?

(Yeah, no. It's not.)

Warning(s): Peril, Fear of death, Cursing

Word Count: 3560

Blame finally made me write a G/t prompt for Lego Monkie Kid (And may have helped me with writing it).

----------

MK isn't...new to being frustrated.

"Mystic Monkey Business" is difficult, and MK understands that- he really does! It hadn't taken Monkey King centuries to master his abilities for no reason; if anything, MK should be grateful it'd only taken him a few months to understand the basic teachings of Buddhism compared to the usual year.

The slight advantage still doesn't make failing any less disappointing.

Three hours. He'd spent three hours chanting phrases and attempting to put himself "in the perspective of the little guy" and he's still the same old, 5'9" MK. If he wasn't already at his wits end with the exercise, he might've laughed over spending so much time trying to become something so small.

MK growls as his latest attempt to shrink even just one inch fails once more, flopping unceremoniously onto the ground. His hands unclench, small crescents indented within his palm from where his nails had pressed a little too hard.

There's a crunch before a familiar face of auburn fur pops into view, the crumbs of a peach chip falling from Monkey King's hand. His mentor almost looks guilty staring at MK's limp body and it takes everything for MK to stop himself from commenting that he doesn't find the expression fitting. "C'mon bud, don't give up so early."

"Early," MK echoes. His arms flail, useless. "It's been three hours!"

He should've gotten this down after the second time Monkey King excused himself to grab another bag of chips, the monkey clearly bored with the uneventful training session. MK would've rather preferred a sparring match- or hell, getting beaten into the ground by some demon terrorizing the city in comparison to this torture.

A sigh tugs from between his gritted teeth. "It's just not working!"

"I mean, it's not magic, bud."

MK's eyebrows raises because oh, totally. Monkeys and humans are just naturally able to fly and lift nine tons so they can pick up some stupid staff.

Monkey King blinks, as if coming to the same realization himself.

"Okay, okay. Maybe it is sorta kinda magic, but that's not important! Point is, you can't just shrink 'cause you want to or because you said the right stuff; it takes practice. But you've got this, I believe in you."

MK can only stare, trying his hardest to combat his mentor's puppy-dog eyes with his own ten-mile stare of exhaustion and utter despair. He doesn't even want to get the ability down anymore; he just wants to relax on the ground, surrounded by pebbles and rock. It's comfortable down here, the dirt's coldness much more forgiving than the frozen wasteland of failure.

"...we could grab lunch after this next attempt. Take our mind off everything, yeah?"

...

Okay, maybe that does sound nice.

"Fine."

MK ignores the giddy expression on his mentor's face for "winning" the conversation, forcing himself back onto his feet and into a comfortable pose. His eyes close, welcoming the calming dark green scenery once he finds his posture is to his satisfaction.

Even in such a relaxed state, it's difficult to ignore the way his lungs squeal over each deep breath he forces through his nose, as though anxiety had begun to overtake MK's initial frustration. At least the tightness in his chest was kinder than thinking about the three hours he'd wasted on this dumb exercise.

Nope. Nope. No negative thoughts.

Brand new ability. Brand new attempt.

...a giant lunch would be the coolest thing, though. If he could shrink on a whim, he wouldn't have to bother Pigsy for a second bowl of noodles, a single helping almost too much for his small body. It'd be the greatest thing ever, leftovers for weeks.

Heavens above, MK would even be able to swim in that delicious broth. Ooo, and a carrot stick would be the perfect diving board, half of an egg transformed into a flotation device. Who knew swimming in a pool you could drink would be enticing?

"I can see you drooling."

Monkey King's playful jab is enough to break through MK's daydream, the envisioned pool of noodles nothing more than a shattered wish.

"Sorry, sorry." Right, brand new attempt. Focus on shrinking.

One inch at a time.

5'8".

5'7".

5'6".

All the way until he's just as short as the other monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain. Until he's shorter than a peach.

MK gasps when it feels as though the ground he'd once sought comfort within rises up to meet him, his arms flailing if only to keep him from face-planting. He chokes, because he's pretty sure he forgot to breathe the whole time he'd been "focusing".

"Look at you, bud!"

Y'know, MK likes to think he's not someone that's easily scared. He's faced demons far more comfortable with their own powers without blinking an eye, boldly faced scoldings from both Monkey King and Pigsy that'd have the average person digging their own grave.

MK doesn't scare easy.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't utterly terrified at the way Monkey King's voice seemed to make the air rumble. MK whirls to face his mentor before he freezes, unable to combat the recognizable bout of fear short-circuiting his brain.

Monkey King looms from where MK sits, that familiar prideful and suddenly massive face upholding an uncanny resemblance to the thousands of "Great Sage" billboards across Megapolis. Scratch that, the monkey's more like a living skyscraper- taller than any MK had bared witness to. Now capable of being Flower Fruit Mountain rather than just living on it.

He doesn't know whether to accept the unspoken praise for MK's achievement or run.

Monkey king never mentioned anything about how scary it is being so small. The pebble MK had once been able to squeeze between his fingertips is now the size of a boulder, one that could be used as camouflage against this unwinnable battle should his mentor use this moment to test MK's reflexes.

He feels crushable, vulnerable from his rapidly thumping heart to a butterfly soaring across the sky like a jet.

"So?" Monkey King grins, taking up most if not all of MK's peripheral vision just by leaning forward. "How do you feel?"

Is that a trick question? MK feels like that's a trick question because there's no way he'll admit he feels like his own mentor is about to flick him away, forgotten like a piece of dust that'd clung to Monkey King's fur.

MK shakes the thought from his head, forcing a stuttered laugh from his throat like his lungs aren't squeezing in panic. "Uh, tiny."

Monkey King physically waves aside the comment, an action that totally doesn't make the now significantly smaller flinch. "Meh, you'll get used to it. I say we snag lunch anyway; on me. I'm starving!"

Faintly MK registers a pang of disappointment hidden beneath his unbridled fear- "on me" could only mean one thing and one thing alone.

He's not getting that five-course bowl from Pigsy's Noodles as he'd originally hoped. Nope. His fate had been sealed to drown in a bowl of peaches.

"Is that alright with you, bud?"

MK's nod is mindless, his sleeve wiping a bead of sweat from his eyebrows. He can't tell if it's from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins or because it'd taken so much energy to shrink in the first place.

...

"Uh, how exactly do I grow?"

Monkey King only blinks, a response that isn't what MK had been praying for.

"You can't do it yourself?"

MK stares, certain his silence is enough of an answer. No he can't just grow. It'd taken him nearly four hours to shrink, only Heaven knows how long it'll take for him to learn how to return to normal size.

"Eh, you'll figure it out eventually. In the meantime..."

MK barely has time to formulate a thought before four meteors crash beside him, the ground rumbling as one lands a little too close to MK for his liking. As much as he wants to curl in on himself- rolly-pollys are making a lot more sense nowadays -he forces his head to lift and make sense of the situation, eyes wide at the scene.

Monkey King remains knelt before the ground, rough palms calloused with millennia of fighting pressed firmly to the ground beside MK. Screw the idea of his mentor being the size of a skyscraper, this is like watching the sun hover above Earth.

His fear barely subsides enough for familiarity to scrape at MK's brain, uncertain why the pose strikes a sense of...comfort?

Oh, wait, no he's seen this play out before. Well, he's never been a participant, but he knows how this goes.

Monkey King did this whenever the little monkeys of Flower Fruit Mountain wanted to climb aboard their king, tiny hands scaling the marigold-colored sleeves with ease. It'd kept the little ones from disrupting training exercises, while also opening the door amidst moments of peace for Monkey King to bask beneath tiny hands that combed through his fur.

A far-too-warm breeze ruffles his hair and MK startles, hands grasping desperately at his bandana to keep it from flying away.

He's barely given reprieve before Monkey King taps a finger, the dirt beneath MK's shoes bouncing. Impatient much. How is this even supposed to work?

Surely MK isn't expected to climb up his arm-

Oh, who is he kidding? Of course that's what his mentor wants.

The cuffs of the sleeve hover awkwardly over MK, large enough for a single fold to encase his entire body like some odd blanket. He can see how convenient the offer of an arm is for monkeys that have claws and experience scrambling up trees. It's just a shame that it's not so useful for a three-inch tall MK.

"I don't have all day, bud."

He knows Monkey King is just teasing. Knows his mentor always makes comments like that.

But it's terrifying now that MK could be swatted like a fly, or left on his own if his mentor decided to get lunch without having to share with his shrunk successor.

Now that thought spurs him to leap up and grab onto the sleeve. It's almost uncomfortable how bulky the fabric is, almost two thick to grab onto securely enough.

But he got it! And now is...currently dangling a good two inches off the ground unable to do anything else.

"A little h-help, please?"

MK doesn't know if the amused look that's broadcasted is good or bad. He wants to say good because that means no more monkey mischief.

But nothing could've prepared him for the feeling of being yanked into the air, an action that happens so quickly he nearly loses his grip on the sleeve. His vision swims and he can only curse vertigo for making it seem as if he had lost his grasp.

And then MK nearly does let go. His arms feel like jelly as he gazes at the growing distance between him and the ground, no safety net provided in the circumstance he falls. The ground feels miles below, and as comforting the fact he's invincible is, he doesn't want to learn what falling from that height and surviving feels like.

MK clenches his eyes shut as the fabric bunched within his arms suddenly pulls taut, his fingers slipping from the thread. And then he really is falling.

The howl of wind tears aside his screams, chest heaving as he lands on something soft only a beat later. He scrambles to figure out where he is before tripping forward as the ground beneath him moves. He might've hated being so exposed on dirt, but at least that stayed still.

MK's arms flail, desperate to make contact with the nearest stable object. What he doesn't expect is said object to be a soft bundle of what suspiciously looks like Monkey King's fur.

Before the dots can connect, the sky darkens as a shadow moves over him, the sleeve MK had previously been clinging to disappearing from view.

...he's on Monkey King's head.

Okay, okay. He can do this. He's ridden Monkey King's cloud for Heaven's sake, soared hundreds of miles above the actual unaltered ground. Who's to say this won't be just like that?

With fur bundled tightly within his grasp, MK forces his eyes shut. He doesn't want to look at the fall that still awaits him.

You're invincible. You're invincible. Monkey King made you invincible-

Monkey King takes a step and MK can't do this.

"STOP!"

MK's designated mode of transportation leaps a solid foot in the air and MK screams, terrified. His strangled grasp on Monkey King's fur may offer safety from the ground, but it's useless in preventing whiplash.

"Sheesh bud," Monkey King scolds, like it's MK's fault that the giant moved too fast. "You're gonna destroy my eardrums at this rate!"

"S-Slower-!" MK pleads, voice much softer if only to appease the one person responsible for his safety. "Just go slower!"

He can practically feel his mentor's pouting about being told to go slower. Still, the giant complies. The only issue is that while his mentor might be going slower, the footsteps are certainly heavier. He's nearly thrown against a flicking ear as the giant makes his way back into the hut, but at least MK isn't thrown off.

Okay, yeah, yeah. MK can do this.

"Uh, Monkey King?"

The head below his feet bobs and MK curses his mentor's naturally exaggerated reactions.

"Hm?"

"I'm not hurting you, right?"

"Pfft," the giant shrugs and oh wow, that should not feel like an earthquake. "Just like havin' a couple fleas in your fur."

That's fun. Everyone likes being compared to a flea.

"Of course of all people, you'd know."

Monkey King's head snaps to greet the new voice, and MK's scream is very manly, thank you.

"Not you," his mentor groans. As if said moment of surprise hadn't almost just caused MK to fall.

"Uh, yes me," Macaque's grin is vicious and smug as per usual. MK nearly flinches at the fangs at least double his size being displayed, a nervous chant falling from his throat that the daggers aren't meant for him. Like a switch the demon's grin falls, eyes narrowing onto MK's best attempt at cowering behind Monkey King's tangled fur.

It didn't take a genius to understand the situation at hand. Still, Macaque dares to ask.

"Wukong." It's spoken cautiously, far too gentle in comparison to how Macaque usually speaks. It's terrifying.

"Macaque." Harsher, with a rumble in it that shakes MK's core.

Nevermind, that's more terrifying.

"Why's the kid sitting in your fur?"

"Bonding time."

A weak excuse, MK thinks miserably.

"Bonding time?"

"And uh, y'know, protection! He's the safest when he's with me!"

There are a lot of ways to describe MK's state of mind. "Safe" is not one of them. His hands have long abandoned their hold on Monkey King's fur, now clasped at his ears in the hopes to get rid of the booming voices.

Macaque makes an odd hissing noise, not unlike that of an angry cat. Or a spider. And there better be neither. "Stop yelling."

The head beneath MK's shoes jostles once before it falls unnaturally still, patches of fur not far from his position dented as large, tan fingers hold it still. "You're gonna destroy both of our eardrums."

For a moment, MK sits mesmerized by the piece of sun that'd managed to sneak into his mentor's house, a bright yellow orb lifting from Monkey King's forehead to greet him. Ah, nope, nope, nope.

That's Macaque's eye. "H-Holy shit-"

"Sorry, kiddo," the shadow murmurs, totally unapologetic with the smirk in his voice. "How'd you get yourself into this one?"

Weakly, "Mystic Monkey B-Business?"

"Shoulda known," Macaque mutters, rolling his eyes. "Classic Wukong, can't teach for the life of him."

"Hey!" Monkey King protests, albeit much quieter than before. MK can't help but sigh with relief. "I'm perfect at teaching."

"...maybe we could work on that a little bit?"

Much to MK's terror, Monkey King's head rears back.

He can barely hear his mentor's iconic "psh" as MK scrambles to grab onto literally anything to keep himself from falling. A hand grabs at fur while the other pinches at skin, a gasp jolting through his chest when it feels like gravity will finally win and throw him to the ground.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him levels out and he lands on his stomach hard enough for his lungs to heave with how heavily he exhales. And then the mountain he stands on drops.

"Do not do that," Macaque growls, a warning that MK swears both he and his mentor will listen to. MK's limbs tremble as he looks up to see the shadow had forced Monkey King to sit down, hands on the giant's shoulders to keep him on the couch. "You will hurt him if you do something careless like that again."

"He's fine."

There's a long moment of silence until Macaque sits down as well, crossing his arms before pretending to feign interest in his claws.

Monkey King bristles, the fur around MK suddenly puffing out. "What are you doing?"

"Ensuring you don't traumatize your successor."

MK can't help but sigh in relief at the promise of someone capable of keeping Monkey King in one spot sticking around. He offers a gentle pat against his mentor's skull, one he's almost certain has barely any weight behind it. "Wh-What's one more 'mentor'?"

"...fine."

Oh thank the Heavens-

"But do you really have to hover the whole time?"

"Duh," Macaque snarks. "Least till MK's back to normal."

Monkey King’s head moves once more, presumably to glare at Macaque making himself cozy on the opposite end of the couch. “Overprotective,” his mentor mutters.

Even from atop his mentor's head MK barely picks up on the uttered comment, praying that Macaque had been far enough away to not pick up on the taunt. He really needs all the help he can get right now and two angry, giant monkeys would not be ideal.

Much to MK's panic, it seems Macaque did hear it, the demon's ears flicking toward monkey King before they flatten against his head in clear disdain. Yeah, he definitely heard that one.

But Macaque doesn't move to tear the other's throat out. A small win for a small MK.

"Well, if you're hoping to be a storm cloud raining on my day," Monkey King huffs. "How about a little bit of grooming, bud?"

It takes a moment for MK to realize that he was the implied party to start grooming. Red rushes to his face, embarrassed because why on earth did he think Monkey King would ask Macaque for help?

He glances at the dark-furred monkey, uncertainty a stone in his stomach over the curious expression that greets him. In an instant MK can already tell that Macaque understands his plight. "Wha'? Don't know how to groom, kid?"

MK quickly shakes his head. "No! I-I mean yes, of course I know how to groom!"

He just never thought a flea itself could do it. But...he can do this. It can't be that hard, right? He already had experienced grabbing onto clumped fur from today's "adventure", surely he can maneuver it enough to methodically groom.

He slowly manages to make his way through the sea of auburn, stopping only whenever he sees a knot he can untangle. The task's actually quite calming, if he's being honest. Who knew small hands would finally be helpful in something; if not climbing sleeves then in appeasing Monkey King through grooming. It only takes about five minutes to untangle the knot before he's moving onto another bundle of fur.

Okay, yeah, MK could get used to this. Piece of cake.

That is, until Monkey King growls. It's a scary thing, a loud rumble that vibrates the fur MK had been combing his hands through. If the sound weren't so paralyzing, he might've laughed over his mentor getting angry, probably over something small Macaque did.

At least until the body beneath him moves. It's not a violent jostle, like how a shake of the head had felt or how a careless shrug of shoulders could toss MK like a ragdoll. It feels more like he'd just sat down in a massage chair.

Macaque's voice acts like a balm to his panic; collected and a fraction louder than Monkey King's rumble. MK still frowns; either Macaque had gotten suspiciously good at ignoring the other's growl or he didn't feel threatened whilst a hostage was in the room.

"Relax, kiddo. What's the hold-up?"

"Why-" MK shrinks at how small his voice sounds. "Why is Monkey King growling?"

Macaque blinks, eyebrows furrowed in what MK can assume is confusion. A wave of bewilderment over something flickers in those yellow eyes before it warps into pure amusement.

"Wukong's not growling. He's purring."

Right, right. That makes total sense; no big deal or anything. Monkey King's just...purring.

"What?"

Monkeys aren't supposed to purr! Er, they aren't really supposed to talk either, but MK can't even fathom the possibility that their vocal cords are capable of producing such a sound in the first place.

Celestial primates work a touch different than normal primates, sure, but purring? Purring?

"Macaque?"

"Hm?"

"...do you also-?"

"Don't push it, bud."

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 5)

AN: I’ll be honest besties, this was a hard chapter to write. I had it planned out—I have the whole fic planned out—but for some reason it was so hard to get it down. I am so attached to this Joel and I hope you enjoy reading. As always- a big thank you to my girl @wheresarizona for being insanely supportive and for helping me flesh out this story. You’re a REAL one, dedicated to you, and to @babiiface95 because this Joel as as close to your heart as it is to mine. ♥️♥️

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 6K 😅

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) angst, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, piv sex (wrap it up!), new character, violence (joel goes ham) some soft stuff and maybe a smooch? 👀

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

------

The sun found Joel with his perpetual scowl and he sighed louder than he meant to. The guilt and shame had been a hound at his heels the whole night and for once in what seemed like an eternity, he had forgotten about the state of the world–at least momentarily anyway. 

She’d grown tired of the crumbs he’d been giving her and he couldn’t blame her, who would want whatever it is they’d had? 

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her.

The thoughts kicked him in the teeth, inadequacy blanketing him once more, an old friend. She stirred, sitting up from her place on the couch and wordlessly she began gathering her things and silently he did the same. Ellie came out of the little room a few minutes later, the sun having woken everyone at the same time. 

“You hungry?” Sunny smiled at Ellie, her voice low as she pulled out one of the last protein bars and split it - popping a third of it into her own mouth before handing another to Ellie, her smile gone by the time she dropped the last piece into Joel's outstretched hand. 

He couldn’t do anything but nod in thanks and ignore the hurt.

—

His sighs had filled the space of the little cabin and it shamed you to welcome them, maybe he did feel something after all, in any case though it meant nothing unless he did something about it. Something more. 

The camaraderie between you and Ellie was still there, but after being caught unawares it was now subdued and furtive, something quiet and until you reached somewhere completely safe - if there even was such a place - it would have to remain that way. 

You spoke in low whispers, she asked questions about Johnny which you answered, about how things were in the before - questions a little more difficult to answer but you did so just the same. All of it under the watchful eye of Joel who brought up the rear. The sweat on your brow foretold a particularly hot day in store and you were wiping it when the sound stopped the three of you in your tracks. A pained groan from your left and within a second Joel was in front of you, covering the two of you with his gun pointed at the source of the noise. 

“What the fuck was that? A clicker?” Ellie’s words were quiet beside you. 

“Didn’t sound like one.” You answered, straining your ears for a clue as to what was coming your way, your heart racing at the thought of being ambushed. 

“Is someone there? I’m not armed.” A man's voice sounded through the trees and it did even less to calm your nerves. “Please - I’m hurt-” Whoever it was, they sounded rough. 

“We should see if they’re okay-” Ellie was walking towards the sound but Joel held onto her backpack. 

“No Ellie, could be a trap.” His words grit through clenched teeth and you couldn’t help but agree with him. Still, it was hard not to wonder if someone really was in trouble. 

“Please - I swear I mean no harm-” The words were cut off by a pained groan and something in the way the man spoke felt genuine. You walked towards the sound. 

“I’ll go.” You didn’t wait for a response and ignored the way Joel called out to you - instead you spoke calmly so the person could hear you. “I am armed, and if you make one wrong move you’re dead.” The knife you carried was now held tightly in your grip - the familiar shape of Joel was now behind you, his angry whispers of this is a bad idea falling on your deaf ears as you approached. 

Creeping vines of doubt curled around the lump in your throat as you got closer but were quickly quelled at the sight that greeted you. It was a man, younger than Joel, possibly younger than you half covered in dirt and breathing hard from his place on the ground. You put your knife away and made to step closer but Joel's hand stopped you.

“You bit?” He growled the words out, scanning the surrounding trees for any signs of an ambush. 

“No, I think I- I think I broke my arm though.” His arm was pressed close to his chest, an angry purple bruise wrapped around it and you knew he was right. “There’s a gang about three or four miles west of here, they robbed me of my supplies and almost killed me but I managed to slip away, I fell running downhill though and hit a tree stump. That was a day ago and I can barely move it now.” He seemed out of breath - his clothes torn and shredded, no doubt from the bramble. 

“Here, I think I have something for you.” You crouched down near him something to eat from your ever dwindling resources and he practically ate it out of your hands. “I think I might have some pain medicine- you’re in luck, here.” You fished a couple of the precious pills out of the bottle you carried in your pack and he swallowed them dry. Tears in his eyes as he graciously took all that was offered.

“What’s your name? Can you walk?” Ellie was beside you now, doing her best to help. 

“My name is Luke - If you give me a few minutes to catch my breath and let me follow along, I’ll crawl if I have to.” His voice seemed stronger now, his chapped lips set in a firm line, determined. 

You could see the look in Joel’s eyes, the trepidation, the annoyance and mistrust. 

“As long as you don't give me a reason not to trust you.” You inspected his arm gingerly as he sat up from his place in the dirt. “This looks nasty, I think it's out of place, needs to be reset or it’ll heal wrong and that might be the end of any use from it.” He sighed at your words, recognition in his eyes. He’d been thinking the same thing.

“Look, if we let you follow, you have to know that one wrong move- and I won't hesitate.” Joel's voice was iron, the threat in his words clear but his hand rested on the butt of his gun on his hip anyway. “One toe out of line and I drop you Luke. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, I’m just trying to survive out here–you won’t regret this I swear.” His eyes were bright and there was something in his voice that carried the weight of sincerity. 

“I believe you. Now about your arm, I think I can help you. I reset my brother's broken leg once- this shouldn’t be too different but I won't sugarcoat it Luke, it's going to hurt like a bitch.” You grabbed a long sleeved shirt from your pack, it would have to serve as a sling. He worried at his lip for a moment before setting his jaw. 

“Do it.” He breathed hard, wordlessly taking the stick Ellie offered and put it into his mouth. 

“Try not to scream, could draw whoever- whatever is out there straight to us.” Joel spoke with a resigned anger, another threat clear in his tone.

Scream, and we��ll leave you here.

Luke nodded once, a sharp intake of breath as you dug your fingers into the bruised skin of his arm to find the break before shoving it back into place and to his credit, he never uttered so much as a peep.

-

How Sunny had survived this long, Joel would never truly understand. It churned over and over in his mind as he followed the three of them, doing his best to protect them all while bringing up the rear of their seemingly, ever-growing party. It was difficult to say if the scowl would ever leave Joel’s face, he’d thought it might–when he was touching her, and when he was inside her it abated for a while at least, but it always came back. 

Luke’s face–although covered in dirt–had been sporting a bright smile since the moment after she’d reset his arm, despite the pain he was surely in and somehow that made Joel’s hackles rise even further. 

The worst part was the difference in Sunny, the way she spoke to Luke- the smiles she gave him freely, smiles that evaporated when she looked at him. What he received could only be described as cold courtesy. 

The bare minimum. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she’d be angry with him, that she might even be done with him and although she’d be well within her rights to tell him exactly where to go, it still stung. It called to mind the morning after his first time with Tess, how she’d acted completely indifferent. How he’d tried to kiss her, but she’d pushed him away, looked at him like he was insane. 

Sound familiar?

This was different, it was just easier this way. Without all the horrible shit that came with it.

You sure? 

He sighed quietly as he followed them. Shook away the ugly truth that constantly nipped at his heels, that in this, he had turned into Tess. He had morphed into the one that pushed, because he’d promised himself that he’d never have to deal with that pain again. Better to push, than to be pushed. 

A noise sounded, a deep rumble far enough away that they wouldn’t walk straight into it, but too close for Joels comfort. 

“We should head in the opposite direction. I think those are the same scavengers who tried to kill me.” It was hard to fake that kind of pallor, the fear, the blood draining from his face–even Joel could admit that. 

“Were there a lot of them?” Sunny’s eyes narrowed, the cogs whirring in a way that spelled trouble.

“Handful, five for sure, more than that I couldn’t say.” He almost stumbled over a root, his good arm shooting up to hold onto Sunny’s shoulder. Joel ignored the cold dark cloud that bloomed in his chest. 

“Did they have a lot of weapons?” She offered her arm, helping him through the bramble. 

“I saw a shotgun, a couple of smaller guns as well as your run of the mill baseball bats.” he winced at the mention, no doubt reliving his escape. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard to ambush them then.” She said it more to herself than to the rest of them. 

“No.” His voice came out deeper than he meant it to and they all turned in unison. “Not a chance.” Her expression changed from concentration, to annoyance. 

“Why? They have no idea we’re here, we could sneak up on them and be gone by the time they realize they’d been hit–”

“No. We cannot say for sure how many of them there are and we don’t exactly have an army with us.” He gestured to Luke’s injury, and spoke over the beginnings of Ellie’s protests. “I will not risk you by goin’ into this blind.” He raised his eyebrows at them, curtailing any further discussion. 

“Joel, that sound was a vehicle and you know it. We need it in order to get to where we’re going in one piece.” Sunny dug in her heels, crossing her arms as she spoke to him. “If you want to stake it out for an hour or two we could do that but you know we need this.” She didn’t back away from his glare, her voice steady and for a moment he couldn’t help but admire her. 

“I might not be able to help, but I can keep a lookout.” Luke’s voice was strong, determined.

“I can too.” Ellie crossed her arms as well, the three of them waiting for his response.

“Maybe y’all didn’t hear me-“ He shifted his weight, his hand resting on his hip. “I said no, and I meant no.” Ellie sighed, but Sunny narrowed her eyes in a way he didn’t entirely like. “Now let’s hustle, I want to find a place to hold up for the night and see if we can scavenge for some food.” 

He moved to lead, straining his ears for any unwelcome company, trusting that they’d follow.

—-—-—-—-—-—-

Days passed, and the air only seemed to be more tense as steps turned into miles and miles.

Luke struggled, the adrenaline of having been found and given a second chance had worn off almost instantly and it was clear that this trip was agony, but he didn’t let it stop him. He was determined and you couldn’t help but admire him for it. He was a sweet guy, funny despite the state of the world. He greeted every day with a smile for all of you, even Joel and you suspected it was half his nature and half gratitude at not having been left behind to die in a ditch. 

The trees had thinned as your party moved as quietly as possible, dense brush and bramble opening up to bigger stretches of clear field, broken down structures; forgotten suburbs. You’d camped in whatever place you could find, an uneasy routine flourishing between the four of you. 

Things with Joel had not improved. If anything, they were worse. His gaze lingered, his eyes cold and whatever rapport had been previously established had now completely evaporated. You could bet your life it had to do with Luke, with his easy smiles and his enthusiasm to help despite not being able to do much but stoke a fire with his good arm. You felt it like a current, something in the air that tasted of jealousy, of insecurity and rejection. It was stronger at night, when the woods or the house or the abandoned building–wherever you hunkered down was quiet. 

You could feel it tonight. They were asleep and it was your turn to watch for the night—his not so sleeping form just feet away. 

It hurt the most at this time, when all you wanted to do was crawl into the space beside him, feel his warmth seeping into your bones–He turned then and you turned your head. Anger and embarrassment burning up the column of your neck at being caught staring.

“You should sleep. I can take over.” His voice was soft, the drawl more pronounced. 

“I’m fine.” You ignored the jackhammering of your heart as he stood and made his way over to your vantage point, pointedly looking at anything but his towering form beside you. 

“You’re dead on your feet, go on, scoot.” He held his hand out for the gun, gesturing to the place he’d just vacated. You gave in, handing him the weapon before claiming his abandoned spot, ignoring the way you could still feel his warmth. 

-

 “I’m fucking starving.” Ellie was cranky, in truth everyone was cranky. The food supply had dwindled a couple of days ago and it resulted in a very steep dip in already dampened spirits. Your own stomach had grumbled angrily the whole day, it would only get worse now as evening came. 

“I would kill for a piece of bread right now.” Luke mused, his words dreamy. 

“Me too. We should see if we can catch a rabbit or something. I wonder if there’s anything growing around here we could forage.” Joel was walking out of the place he’d chosen for shelter, his face serious as always. “Why don’t you guys get settled, I’ll take a look in the woods nearby.” Joel frowned. 

“We should stick together.” He grumbled, gesturing for everyone to come inside. 

“I’ll go with her. Come on.” Ellie turned, following you towards the woods. “The two of you fell into step while Joel protested. “Relax Joel, we’ll be back in a few.” 

You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you weaved through the trees.

-

“Is this anything?” She pointed at a patch of green on the ground, her voice annoyed.

“Nope–just a weed.” You were scoping out the fallen trees for a recognizable mushroom without luck, any berry bush you’d found had been thoroughly picked through by animals but you didn’t give up, there had to be something. “A-ha! Okay here we go, careful they’re pretty sharp. These are wild chestnuts, we have to find a rock or something to break the sharp part to grab the fruit inside.” You found a rock and showed her how to break apart the dangerous outside part, kicking it aside to collect the treasure inside. “We’ll need to roast them, but this is a really great find!” 

The two of you continued to collect, grabbing as many as you could find to bring back to camp. Once satisfied, you continued to look around, hoping to find more to eat. Ellie called you over and the smile stretched further. 

“Wild strawberries - these are wonderful too.” You tasted one and almost moaned. “Very sweet, try one.” She ate it with a big smile before picking as many as she could find. The two of you laughing softly with the delirium of hunger when a noise sounded somewhere deep in the woods. 

The smiles dropped like stones, both of you still as statues, ears straining to make out what the sound was. It was familiar, too familiar. 

“I think it’s a car-” She whispered, her eyes big.

“I think so too, maybe it’s those same scavengers, making their way around the area.” The sound of the engine got closer and you knew they had to be just beyond the dense coppe of trees you were currently foraging in. “I think we should take a quick look–see what they have.” You finished picking all of the berries you could find - tying them up in a spare shirt from your pack. “Or better yet - you go back and give this to Joel and Luke, and I’ll check it out.” 

“Fuck that, I’m going with you.” She squared her shoulders, ready to challenge my protests. 

“Fine, but keep quiet, just going to assess.” She nodded, happy that she hadn’t been shut down.

You both walked towards the sound of the noise as carefully and quietly as possible and sooner than you would have liked - you came across a clearing, and a treasure trove. 

“They have a car!” Ellie whispered excitedly, the two of you crouched down behind a large tree. 

“Yes they do, and it looks like there are only a couple of them.” The two of you watched for a time. There were three men, all of them older and armed. All of them emitting an intense aura of violence. 

Three isn’t so many, not if I’m quick and quiet. 

Your mind desperately searched for some sort of pattern to exploit. A crack you could slip through. 

“We should get Joel.” She frowned, seeing the obstacle instead of how disorganized they were. “Luke could keep watch-” She was nervous.

“Luke can barely carry himself, and Joel isn’t going to want to take the risk-” You kept an eye on the scene before you both, they’d left the car behind and seemed to be walking away from the shelter. No doubt conserving the gas. “Stay here. I’m going to sneak in now while they’re gone and take a quick look around, hopefully they left the keys and I can steal them for later.” You rose to go but her hand caught your sleeve. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I think we should go get Joel, just in case.” her brow was creased, worry on her face and you shushed her with a smile. 

“We both know what Joel will say, trust me.” You pulled her close for a quick reassuring hug, “Keep watch for me!” With that, you ran. 

The coast was clear as you approached what looked to be half shed, half mobile home and as you moved to peek through a boarded up window your stomach roiled to realize that you hadn’t even been sure there was no one inside before you ran over. The thought of stealing a vehicle overriding the basic survival rules that had kept you alive until now. Luckily, there was no one inside that you could see. 

You ran over to the car, hurriedly pulling on the handle to the drivers side and you couldn’t help the loud sigh of relief at finding it unlocked. The exclamation of triumph was on the tip of your tongue when you heard voices rounding the corner of the dirt road the men had taken. They’d come back early. 

Shit.

There was no way you’d make it back to Ellie in time without being seen and you couldn’t risk these men following you to where Joel and Luke were staying so without a second thought, you crawled under the car, and waited. 

-

He’d checked every inch of the house they’d found, gone through every drawer and hidden cranny for something to eat and had come up with a big fat pile of fuck-all. Now more than ever, he hoped Sunny had scrounged up something. The headache was creeping in, almost blurring the edges of his vision. He was rubbing at his temples when Ellie burst in through the door. 

“She’s stuck!” She was frantic, her eyes wild and it filled him with a horrible sinking feeling. 

“Ellie!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, “Breathe, what’s wrong?” Luke came up behind him, whatever she would say next, he knew it wouldn’t be good.

“We went out to forage, found some stuff-” He saw the gathered cloth filled with something hanging by her sides then. “And we heard something so we went to check it out–she told me she’d be quick.” A boulder dropped into Joel’s stomach. “They’d left and I told her we should come get you but she said she’d be quick and now she’s stuck!” 

“Stuck where Ellie? Who are they? How many?” Luke asked the questions Joel needed answered and she shook her head, frustrated and scared. 

“There were three of them! Three big fucking guys beyond the woods, they had a car but they came back quick and she hid under the car, we have to go get her!” She was frantic, he stood quickly, gathering his gun and a piece of wood he could use like a baseball bat. 

“In the same direction you walked off to? How far?” He was almost to the door when she followed him. “You’re staying here and I don’t want to hear a single word about it. Just point me where to go.” She followed him out the door, pointing towards the woods. “Luke–watch her.” He pointed to Ellie, ignoring her protests. 

“You got it.” Luke set his jaw, guiding Ellie softly inside. “Come on, we should wait inside and not make so much noise, don’t want to attract–” He didn’t stay around to listen to them, his headache was replaced with a horrible buzzing, pure adrenaline and rage flowing through his veins at the thought that he might find her wounded or worse. 

He reached the clearing within a few minutes, ignoring the pounding in his ears; ignoring the way his stomach sank and the bone-deep fear that nipped at his heels with every step. 

He saw them then, two of them going through her bag while one of them held her with her hands behind her back, a gun to her head. He didn’t think, he just reacted. Running out from the clearing headfirst and catching them unawares he was able to shoot the two rifling through her pack before they even knew what hit them. 

“Stop! Put the fucking gun down. NOW!” He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her eyes widen in surprise and something else he couldn’t focus on right now, not with the rage burning through him like a wildfire. “I swear to god I’ll fucking shoot her.” She winced when he pressed the barrel to her temple. Joel didn’t back away, instead he narrowed his eyes, wondering if he could squeeze off a shot before he hurt her. 

“Joel-” His name in her mouth earned her a crack across the back of the head and he all but growled at the man. She caught his eye, gesturing almost imperceptibly to her feet and then she stomped on his foot hard. Hard enough to wriggle away and fall to the ground. Joel didn’t waste a second - he shot the man but hit his chest instead of the clean headshot he’d wanted. 

She was scrambling, running towards him. 

“Let’s go Joel–if there are any infected they’ll have heard the shots.” She was running over to him but he barreled over her, this man couldn’t be left alive. He stalked over to where he sputtered in the dirt, his fist squeezed tight as he landed blow after blow into his face. The anger, the fear bubbling in his throat; the scared yet defiant look on her face flashing in his mind as the man's bones crunched under his fists. 

“Joel–” She pulled him up, the effort of pulling him away immense if her voice was anything to go by. “He’s dead Joely, come–we have to move, those shots will draw whatever and whoever is nearby.” She pulled him away, pulled him away from the mess at his feet. Pulled him towards her scattered things, towards the car.

-

He was deathly quiet as you drove down a dirt road in the general direction of the shelter you’d chosen, the air charged with a strange, intense static. You were leaning into the steering wheel, going slow and steady with your eyes darting all around–acutely aware that a flat tire could be the difference between a handful of hours until you reached your destination, versus the weeks it would take on foot. The difference between life and death with the amount of food and water you didn’t have screaming through the constant ache of hunger. 

He flexed his hands, the movement as clear as it could be in your periphery–already his knuckles were turning purple. It must have been excruciating. 

Ellie and Luke were outside before you’d even stopped the car. The relief on her face at seeing you was enough to make you tear up. She was halfway in when Joel got out and ran into the shelter, no doubt making sure nothing was left behind. 

“Jesus fucking Christ am I glad to see you!” You laughed, reaching back to hold onto her hand quickly before she helped Luke get into the backseat. 

“Everything okay? We heard the shots.” Lukes face was pale, unspoken worry clear in the way his lips were bitten raw, in his shell shocked expression. If you hadn’t come back, he would have had to take care of Ellie on his own. “I cannot believe you got the car.” His big brown eyes were wide, shock momentarily giving way to awe at being inside a vehicle for the first time in god knows how long. 

“We’re okay, with this–and a bit more luck we should reach Jackson in a couple of days.” You smiled at them both, reassuring them that you were okay, pointedly ignoring the ache from where the gun barrel had struck you. 

Joel ran out of the house, his bag in his lap when he threw himself into the car and with that, you were back on the road. 

-

Hours passed and the overgrown country road had stretched out before you, the trees hung low where they were encroached on the unused roads. Nature was reclaiming itself, erasing the fingerprint humans had left behind. The blow to the back of your head had turned into a painful goose egg you tried your hardest to ignore. 

Luke and Ellie had fallen asleep, lulled by the rocking of the car and the promise of momentary safety, their soft snores had filled the tense space between Joel and you, it had been the only soundtrack until you’d eventually found an old empty farmhouse to spend the night.

It wasn’t much, but it was dry and the doors closed. It was more than you could have asked for. 

You followed him towards the back of the house, towards an ancient, dark, dusty looking den.  A small room filled with windows that let in the moonlight. Found him lying on an old musty quilt on the floor.

“Joel?” it was a whisper, a guilty sounding croak–his anger at the huge risk you’d taken filling up the space like thick smoke. You ignored the way your stomach roiled and closed the door behind you. “Joel, can we talk? I want to apologize, and to thank you for coming to help me.” 

There was a loud sigh, that he didn’t immediately tell you to leave was as good a sign as any. 

“Joely–” You got down to his level behind him and he turned to face you and you almost flinched, expecting the rage and the anger and the scowl to end all scowls but his expression was so much worse. The moon shined on his face and there was a raw hurt there that was like a punch to the gut. 

“I told you not to.” He didn’t sound angry, he sounded tired. “I told you the risk was too big, Sunny.” His nickname for you was a lump in your throat.

“I know, I’m sorry.” It was all you could say.

“I know I’m not the easiest to be around, I know I’m a hardass but I–we need you around. Ellie needs you around. You make the trip easier for her. Do you have any idea how scared I was that something had happened to you?” Your heart raced, was this finally it? 

“You were scared?” It wasn’t what you should have focused on but you couldn’t help but cling to the hope swelling in your chest. 

“Of course I was, I–” He stopped, his eyes closing tight and you held your breath as he let out one of his. “Please, please promise me you won’t do that again.” He reached over, slowly taking your hand into his, the warmth of it like a balm. 

“I promise.” You scooted closer to him, unwilling to let him go and he said nothing, his response was to pull you close, and wrap himself around your back. His big arm draped over your middle, pulling you tight to his chest. 

The pounding in your head quieted with his soft breath on your neck. The pounding of your heart though, that ramped up, especially when his lips pressed against the side of your neck. Despite your earlier resolve you shifted to give him more access, it spurred him on and within a moment his hand was sliding under all the layers. The skin of his palm smoothing its way up the soft skin of your belly, tentative at first but more confident as it slipped under the band of your bra to hold onto your breast, to feel the weight of it. 

Your nipple pebbled in his palm almost painfully making him groan deep and the sound made you drip; your cunt achingly empty. Your hand wound up and around to reach for his hair, the arousal flowing at the feeling of his hardening cock against the curve of your ass. 

“Can I?” He whispered into the crook of your neck, his hands moving down toward the waistband of your pants—with the nod of your head he was up, kneeling and pulling you into the position he wanted, ass up into his lap. 

His hands were frantic, they all but ripped your layers down to your knees, separating from your body only to free himself and once he did you felt the wet tip of him where he slid it through the lips of your sex. You pressed back, barely containing your own eagerness to have him fill you again. A shared groan hung in the air as he slid inside, the layers of clothing at your knees keeps your legs closed, making him feel so much bigger. 

His thrusts were brutal, each rough snap of his hips knocked the air out of your lungs, a network of fire spreading through your veins, burning you within but it wasn't enough. For you, or for him. 

The heavy hands on your hips moved and all of a sudden your face was no longer buried in the musty quilt, he’d brought you up towards him, only stopping to roughly pull up your shirt and bra, moaning when he had both breasts in his hands. Everything in you screamed to turn your head and beg for his mouth, beg for him to give you his tongue as freely as he gave you his cock but you held back. He snapped his hips again, moving an arm to form an iron band around your middle, his face now pressed into the crook of your neck as his thrusts got faster, wetter. 

His breath fanned across your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake, his grunts and moans pulling wave after wave of arousal out of you to drip around his battering cock. 

“Don’t leave me Sunny.” It came out almost like a whine, and it almost broke your heart.

“I won’t–” He reached down to rub tight circles around your clit, pulling a moan out between the words. “God, right there.” All you could do was hold onto his forearms and accept the way he railed into you. 

“Please, please stay, fuck.” He let out a sharp breath when he felt it, when he felt you come around him, the force of your orgasm squeezing him so tight he could barely move. 

“Oh fuck–” You moaned the words, the euphoria flooding your veins, both quenching the fire and feeding it as you all but floated away. 

He took a sharp breath, swearing under his breath before he bent you over and pulled out in a panic, you felt the hot spurt of his come on the puffy lips of your sex. Felt the bruising grip of his hand on the meat of your ass as he painted you in himself. 

You both caught your breath for a minute before you felt him wiping you clean, heard righting his clothes before helping you right your own and before you could do anything but take deep, steadying breaths he was pulling you onto his chest. 

“I’m sorry Joely.” You breathed him in greedily, ignoring how much you needed this, and how much it would hurt if he pushed you away in the morning. 

“I know you are. Sleep now.” He turned, and curled himself around you and despite the bone-deep urge to stay up and bask in his arms, the darkness won and swallowed you whole. 

—

The pain in the back of your head woke you, pulling you out of the peaceful, dreamless sleep cruelly. The layers you’d shed in your sleep were neatly folded beside you, he was already dressed, his scowl back in place. 

You dressed in silence, dreading how he’d act in the light of day, without the cover of night to hide the little bit of softness he’d offered last night. 

“Ellie and Luke are still sleeping, we need to find something to eat soon.” He spoke almost coldly, barely looking up from his things. 

Your heart squeezed at the thought that you'd fallen for it again. 

Is this just how it is with him? Toe-curling sex at night and an unfriendly grump during the day?

You sighed big, willing yourself to reach over to him and when he flinched your heart sank. 

“Is it just sex? Is that all you want from me?” It hurt too much to be angry. 

“Sunny I–” His eyes widened, shame plastered on his face, weaving through his words. 

“I don’t understand! How can you beg me not to leave and then push me away?” You pulled your boots on, the shame and embarrassment making your lip tremble. “I can’t do this Joel, I can only take so much.” Your eyes betrayed you, rogue tears slipping down without your permission. 

“Listen-” He grabbed your hand when you turned to leave, making you turn back around to face him. 

“Listen to what? The reasons you don’t want any part of me except what’s between my legs?” He sighed, his expression almost hurt.

What the fuck do YOU have to be hurt about???

“Sunny, wait–” He held firm, looking into your eyes but it was too much. 

“I can’t Joel, I can’t do the back and forth, you cannot understand how much it hurts–” He surged forward, shocking you into silence when he pressed his mouth to yours. Your eyes widened in surprise before your brain caught up with your mouth, melting into his embrace and accepting the kiss you’d been waiting what felt like aeons for. 

His hands moved from your arms, to wrap around your waist, pressing you oh so close. His lips were soft, moving against yours, coaxing your mouth open to press his sweet tongue against yours. He pulled a whimper out of you, an invisible force brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. Your heart fluttering wildly, a bird within the cage of your ribs.

His kiss was devastating. 

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“I am not good at this Sunny, you’re gonna have to be patient with me.” His thumb wiped away the tears that adorned your cheeks. “Can you do that for me?” You nodded, dumbstruck and giddy and confused and happy and a whole mess of other emotions filling up every inch of space inside you. “Don’t give up on me, okay?” He pressed his lips to yours again, the tickle of his stubble making you smile into the kiss. 

“I won’t.” 

–

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[la-hannya]

Been keeping away from the drama cause I'm mostly tired, want to mostly focus on the original series, and I can't wait for this fanfic to completely die truly from the death drag is doing since it's long overdue; but after reading this— it needed to be addressed. Saw some copium going on about it already.

You can say stuff like "he is a yōkai", "he was always like that", "he is too good to lower himself to the standards and morals of humans", "retcons can happen" "you see? Rumiko is supervising now", "You weren't paying attention to the story" "the translation should say this instead of this" etc etc. Sure. of course, Jan. All that shit is bs as shown in the source material a thousand times already. Ok, moving on.

but AGAIN this Sesshomaru is just not the same one. Not the same to the original anime and not the same og manga either. This is like a completely different character than what we've been shown before. Nope. Ken Narita said it best and knew it.

This one is a completely regressed version and you can die on the hill after punching me in the face "that it's the same one, it's canon" but the original one wouldn't let crap like this slide. Oh yes, I know he's not a fucking prince charming; for sure! WE ALL KNOW. But Sesshomaru had already grown enough that he gave a fuk at least about those around him. Even if he's a person who barely expresses himself. So, much so, that no matter how you view the relationship of him and Rin— you know he was still coming to see and make sure he was okay even when she was in a village that might as well be safe 💯% thanks to his brother along his wife + inugang and others. He took care of Kohaku after Kikyo died! He regretted not leaving Rin in a village earlier when she lost her life again. Here, he's whole family are accessories. You got even Shippo weirdly being his servant all of a sudden. You can measure the regression with a ruler 📐

The vibes Rumiko Takahashi is giving me at this point are: A) she doesn't give a fuk because the og story is FINISHED as she has talked before (tbh this woman didn't give a fuck starting the last half of the series cause you can look up her interviews on Rumic World/Furinkan, and she was half ass winging it by the end cause that's how much she stopped vibin with her "Magnum Opus". Thanks Sunrise) and since she doesn't give a fuk, she doesn't want to even bother looking at her own source material. This is why I've gone mostly "Death of the author" with her at this point.

B) The other thing could be as well that she's fuking this thing on purpose. "But, Gene she's supervi—" no shut up. And stop snorting the copium. You'd think if this was canon she'd be truly wanting to sell the story and this ship, but it's like she wants to make sure he along everything else is the worst possible every chapter. If she truly is supervising, cause honestly she still feels like she quickly looks over sht, goes "whatever, I'm done with this" and goes back to doing Inuyasha revamp *cough* I mean MAO. Though, it's quite understandable why she was so reluctant to allow this in the first place.

And let me tell you, the "Character becomes terrible parental unit when the next generation is born, so their past growth is thrown out the window" trope. It's OVERUSED GARBAGE that fuks up good stories 🗑️🚮 You got characters that are really similar to Sessh that are doing better in other animes for Pete's sake. LIKE "THE VILLAIN" OF YASHAHIME: KIRINMARU 🦄🤡

It's pitiful really. I dunno how anyone can still enjoy this because "uWu it gives me crumbs". Nah, have some standards. Other people can do better stories. Other people can write this better while still respecting the original story. And I'm not saying you can't enjoy some things from it, because you can (like Moroha, Kirin, the Mirsan kids, whatever). But this could've been better done. Peace.

[webbo0]

*sighs* because none of my friends have watched it and I’m at a soccer game and I’m bored out of my mind could I ask you some questions?

Have you watched Remember the Titans? (If you haven’t it’s on Disney Plus and is literally the best football movie I’ve ever seen; plus young Ryan Gosling who plays a guy named Allan which I screamed at because “all his clothes fit me”)

If you have…I dunno, thoughts, favorite moment, anything (beggar me, scrounging for crumbs)

More Tiny Little Headcanons for Henryyyy (+ some Henry Lives AU headcanons)

Because Athena acts in older plays, he’s tried to read more Shakespearean books and stuff like that so they can talk about it together and he can be of assistance when she’s rehearsing. (This is how I see it, you’ll probably have something different: he’s OKAY with them, but not the hugest fan. Whenever Athena is ranting about how useless the female characters are, he’ll just nod with a small smile and agree.)

He’s the kind of person to be kind of awkward around small kids, convinced that they don’t like him. I think that kids can sense a kind person, so that doesn’t deter them and he ends up teaching them how to draw and stuff.

I’ve never been in a hospital as a patient and I’m guessing ways to kill yourself wouldn’t be TOO numerous but when Henry first wakes up to a few weeks out he tries many times to pull the tubes out of him or turn off the numbing medication (the stuff that’s in the bag; not hydration but…ughhhh stoopid), get out of his bed and stuff to the point where they have to tie him down. (IS THIS FACTUAL I DONT KNOW). After that, when Sam comes to visit and he asks what happened, Henry says, “I’m a monster. Thats why.” Or something.

In a lighter note, Henry DEFINITELY makes for some awkward situations when he asks Sam “when are you gonna marry your girl?” And Sam tries to explain that he and “his girl” have been on one half date to get coffee after seeing his broken body being taken away to the hospital. “Where’s your ring?” “What ring, Henry?” “Your- the ring you were gonna give her; you didn’t lose it, did you?” “Who is her?”

That’s all for now. Probably will continue in ten minutes. Thanks for reading all this shit.

I haven't seen Remember the Titans yet, but it's on my list!

And I'm literally so happy to get headcanons I'm twirling my (non-existent) long hair ✨

• I would love to dive into their relationship more! We get so little about her but I love the classic "visual artist doesn't fully understand the literary artist and vice versa but they are super supportive of each other" bit!

• I also think he'd be good with kids, or at least they'd sense that he's chill, he's Definitely a cat person IMO

• I'm honestly planning on him being on a psych hold at some point in the story so I SEE the vision

• And yes!!! The blurring between realities!!! That's also something I'm Super excited to write about!!

As always I owe you my life lol, thanks for the inspiration!

[yuri-cocaine]

ffxivwrite2022: bolt

Emet-Selch didn’t need to show a Costco membership ID. His scintillant Convocation mask was enough, like a strawberry poison dart frog was enough to shoo predators away. In this case the predator was a bored employee smacking gum and not actually caring. This metaphor was running away, just like Azem was running away to grab samples. 

Every Convocation member was automatically a Costco member too, which was a great perk. Often the only thing Emet-Selch needed to buy was a mountain of ibuprofen, because he could simply create everything else he wanted. Still, not everyone was a genius like him. And some people just enjoyed getting lost in the expansive concrete aisles. Once Azem accidentally got locked in overnight and the store managers found her eating raw lettuce in the freezer the next morning.

Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch’s achingly beautiful husband, was pushing a shopping cart along and admiring the kumquat trees. There were so many kumquat trees. 

Hythlodaeus opened his mouth.

“No,” said Emet-Selch.

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” said Hythlodaeus.

“Look at what I found,” said Azem. She lugged a twenty-foot skeleton behind her. It was only September but it was never too early for Halloween stuff. 

“No,” said Emet-Selch.

The three of them walked side-by-side like those groups of annoying shoppers who just had to take up as much space as possible, but since they were a bisexual poly couple it was okay for them to do that. Hythlodaeus floated towards the deli section like a lavender luna moth and gracefully took some samples of salami to share with his beloved. That was just how gracious and wonderful Hythlodaeus is. Truly there was no better man on the face of Etheirys. 

Azem scurried back with a box of chocolate chip cookies, and another box of boring oatmeal raisin cookies for Emet-Selch’s boring tastes. Azem was cute too, in a gopher sticking its head out of a golf course type of way. 

“Do they sell weed at Costco,” asked Hythlodaeus.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” said Emet-Selch with a heavy heart. “They do not.”

“Oh.”

He could not bear to see his darling Hythlodaeus disappointed. He will have a very stern word with the CEO of Costco later, and demand that they stock the finest of weeds.

Azem filled the cart with fifty bundles of toilet paper and they went to check out.

For lunch, the three of them went to get the fabled $1.50 hot dog and soda combo. Back in the days of paradise, people just turned cubuses into hot dogs, but now there was something called food safety and hot dogs were made from pigs. Emet-Selch got Diet Coke. Hythlodaeus got Sprite, because he was as lovely as a flower sprite. Azem made a horrific concoction of every single drink from the machine like a gremlin. What the fuck is wrong with her. 

They sat down at the least crumb-covered table and ate their hot dogs. Suddenly, there was a huge peal of thunder, loud enough to give everyone tinnitus. A great bolt of lightning tore down from the heavens and completely obliterated the entire Costco except for the food court. 

Emet-Selch woke up. There was no lightning. It was just magitek weaponry tests outside the palace. Hythlodaeus was still dead, Azem was still dead, and these malformed abominations could never conceive of hot dogs, much less ones that only cost a buck fifty. 

He got up and checked the expiration date on his aspirin. 

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”touch too much”

It wasn't the first time, and I would be surprised if it wouldn't be the last, either.

At some point after dinner, Alex had passed out there on the couch with one arm up on the top of the cushions and his feet up on the arm. A few locks of his hair spread over his face and neck to make it look as though he had fallen asleep on the beach. He had undone his pants but he barely had a little belly poking up from his body; he eaten so much that evening that I was surprised that he hadn't passed out into a food coma an hour before.

I stood there at the recliner chair, right over Lou's head, whereby he had leaned it back and put his hands behind his head. All three of us had eaten our fair share of it all, but Alex had in particular. He rolled his head over the top of the pillow and parted his lips to give us a soft little groan: at least he was a clean eater and he had licked off all of the crumbs around the rim of his mouth and his fingers. But it was still so adorable to see him lounging there on his back, sound asleep, like that of a young boy who had eaten too much and fallen asleep at his grandparents' house during Hanukkah.

“You know at some point, he's gonna wake up and have the absolute worst indigestion,” Lou said in a low voice.

“I don't know, he was scarfing down a lot of veggies,” I recalled. “A lot of veggies as well as everything else. I do have plenty of antacids in the bathroom, though, just in case.”

“I still can't believe he ate the whole thing,” he chuckled. “I remember thinking at one point, 'where in the world did this come from?'”

“He really is a little piggy, he just doesn't want to admit it,” I pointed out. “I remember him once telling me that he'd get the worst munchies when he'd take an extra hit from a joint.”

“Well, well, well, that explains everything, now doesn't it?”

“Right? And apparently, it's carried over, too. Remember he was complaining earlier today about being so damn hungry that he could eat an entire buffet table?”

Lou snickered at that, and then he peered up at me with a mischievous look on his face.

“How could I forget?” But then he locked eyes with me, even with his head turned back all the way like that to look on at me.

“What're you thinking about?” I asked him.

“Thinking about going out and getting him a little 'present',” he replied with a wink.

“I'm gonna have to get something for breakfast tomorrow, though,” I told him with a shrug. “Knowing how he wakes up all famished and what have you.”

“Don't you have some stuff to make cinnamon rolls, though?”

“Yeah, but you know how he is, though,” I pointed out. “We could enjoy some rolls ourselves, but he's going to want more than that.” I lifted my gaze to his porky little belly: I couldn't explain how he could be such a big eater and not have a big protuding potbelly on him, but there he was, laying there on my couch with his little gut hanging out in the open.

“I'll make him a full English breakfast,” I suggested. “That'll not only fill him up but us, too.”

“English breakfast, that's got things like eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and a bunch of fruit, right?”

“Yeah. They also have black pudding along with it, but I don't have the gumption for that. I'll make us little Yorkshires instead.”

Lou then ran his fingers through his hair and gingerly stood to his feet, even though I knew an earthquake wouldn't wake Alex, let alone the squeaking of a leather chair. We slipped our shoes back on, and then I picked up the apartment key as well as my jacket from the spot next to the front door.

“You think he'll be okay by himself here?” Lou asked me in a low voice.

“Oh, yeah. There was another time he fell into a food coma like this, and he didn't wake up until I put a pot of coffee on. Lou, I'm not even kidding, I tried banging on a pot with a wooden spoon and he didn't budge.”

He chuckled at that as we headed on out to the cool night: a marine layer had come in for us, such that Lou huddled closer to me.

“I told you to wear a heavier jacket!” I declared as we reached the sidewalk and the mostly deserted street. We lived in the Bay Area, and yet the sidewalks rolled up at around seven o'clock in the evening. We kept on walking until we reached the supermarket doors, and I started thinking about what I wanted to make for the morning after. We had just eaten dinner, so I was already in no mood to see anything as all that appetizing. But it was for the day after, though: I had to keep on thinking ahead about it all.

Lou lingered back by the bread while I took my time at the produce. I chuckled to myself when I thought about Alex scarfing up all of that lush fruit and veggies that I had served for him: silly boy, doesn't he know that it still counts as overeating?

I picked up a small bunch of strawberries for a quick look to see if they were ripe enough. He sure loved his berries: the plumper and more ripe the berry, the plumper and more ripe the boy. I followed it up with some bananas, followed by blueberries and raspberries, and I was also eyeing the mint leaves and the gooseberries. We were looking at some hearty smoothies to go with our English breakfast in the morning when I noticed Lou had gone off somewhere. Probably to the bathrooms.

Nevertheless, I carried on with some milk and heavy cream, followed by bacon and breakfast sausage. I had plenty of eggs in my fridge, which meant I could make us some sunny side up eggs as well as the Yorkshire puddings; but if I remembered correctly, there were some beans and mushrooms to go with it all, too. Given it was Sunday, and the load was just starting to come in and the clerks were all in the back, I could pick out from the utter cornucopia before me without anyone getting in my way. When I doubled back to the produce section to look for any good-looking button mushrooms, I spotted Lou coming back to me with a sly little smirk on his face.

“What's up?” I asked him as I picked out a small bunch of mushrooms and put it in the basket.

“I was just in the bathroom,” he replied.

“But what's that look for?”

“I just got the dumbest idea,” he began again, that time in a lower voice.

“What's that?”

“When I was in the bathroom, I saw a hole in the wall of the stall next to me,” he said. “It looked fresh and clean, too, like whoever did that never had it fixed but it was cleaned, though. It got me thinking.”

I gaped at him.

“Oh, no, Lou, not here!” I hissed at him.

“It's Sunday, Eric. Sunday night, which means there's no one else here but us and the fresh new loads coming in for the night. It's a crazy idea, but I doubt anyone is going to walk in on us.”

“Elle's not here, either,” I muttered aloud, and my eyes wandered to the rest of the produce department, to which I found myself looking on at the bags of carrots on display, followed by the meat department before us.

“Besides, we haven't really had a moment together,” he confessed, much to my bewilderment.

“Lou... really?”

And he bowed his head and shyly nodded.

“I have to confess to you, Eric,” he continued, and I could tell that this was a big deal for him; “I do think about it from time to time. You and I are friends, but something like that shouldn't take anything away from our friendship.”

I swallowed at that, and I had no clue as to how to respond to him. This was all happening so quickly, perhaps more so than the whole thing with Alex because at least he and I eased into that, and I managed to wake something up in him.

“And I kind of feel bad for fessing that to you, too, simply because it feels like I'm putting pressure on you,” he continued in a single breath.

“No, no,” I promised him with a shake of my head, and I rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and locked eyes with me. “No, Lou. I promise you there's no pressure whatsoever. It's just... out of the blue, is all. But I probably should've known that you had some feelings for me, though...”

It felt so appropriate that I had to really fixate on whether or not I wanted it. I sighed through my nose and held the basket down by my side. We were alone in the market, and I had to think on my feet.

“Yeah, I think we can do a quick one,” I told him. “I have get some baked beans, and that's about it.”

“The beans can wait,” he assured me in a low voice.

“The beans can in fact wait,” I echoed him, and he led me back to the men's room, which smelled of lemons, which told me it was in fact clean in there. I set the basket down on the counter next to the sinks, and Lou gestured for me to take the stall on the right. I bowed in there and spotted it, the hole right next to the toilet paper rolls. It looked to be going the other way, which meant I was going to give myself to him.

I unzipped my pants and let them glide down my legs a bit. Even while standing up, I could see him bowing down below the hole to prepare himself. It was so strange to have it happen as is, but I knew that we would take our friendship to a different level. If anything, it could possibly add another dimension to it.

“Okay... hold still,” I told him in a hushed whisper; I dropped my shorts and revealed myself to him.

“I am holding still,” he assured me as he put his mouth up to the hole.

“Okay... I am putting my dick through the hole... can you see it?”

“I do, yeah,” he replied with a slight grunt.

“Okay... try it out.”

I bent my knees enough for him to see me all the way through the hole. I had to be careful not to move too much as I did have a ring of metal around my dick; I pressed my hands to the wall of the stall right before me as he put his lips around me. It was something that I never expected that I would like before, but he moved in as deep as he could even with the metallic wall right before his face and even with the fact that we couldn't see one another, either. I could still feel him, and I could still feel the edges of his teeth against my skin. Something about it all made my spine straighten up a bit more, and something about it made me think of Alex. The way that he would gorge himself and then he would be in such a tender enough spot to warrant something like this.

I was in the tender spot at that point. Lou was the one in control.

Lou was the one in control and I couldn't help but let myself relax to the very feeling of his lips, his teeth, and his tongue.

A metal wall between us and it was enough touch. It was more than enough. It was everything. It was everything I never believed I would ever imagine happening to me before.

Lou let go of me and coughed.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.

“Yeah. I was just... kind of gagging on you a bit.”

“Have a gag!” I declared as I pressed my body to the wall, just so could have more. His lips back on my flesh again and I wished I could see his face. I wished I could see him closing his eyes in utter bliss, and I wished he could see me giving my body up to him, my best friend.

I was coming fast and hard, even as I still tried to keep myself from scraping against the metal rim of the hole. I still scraped against it anyway, and it only made me rise more.

Lou let go of me again, and that time, I could hear something dripping onto the floor on the other side of the wall.

“They just cleaned, too!” he laughed, and I couldn't help but laugh as well. With my dick still out in the open, we both barreled out of the stalls and for the sinks.

“Wow,” he muttered, and he placed his hands on the brim of the sink basin next to my grocery basket.

“That was... that was something,” I breathed out as I reached for the paper towels at the dispenser. “Something I never thought I would like.”

“Then I'm glad we did that,” he confessed as he scrubbed his hands with that soft-smelling soap.

“Stupid idea wasn't so stupid after all,” I assured him with a smile, and I wiped myself down lest anyone ask any questions the next day.

Once we were cleaned up, I picked up the basket and we headed out of there and back to the corridor. It was right then I noticed the blush to his face: if any of the clerks asked, he had been on the toilet a bit too long.

“What'd you say you needed next, baked beans?” he asked me.

“Yeah. Baked beans for the boy with his bulging little belly out in the bodacious open.” And he laughed at that.

[chocoenvy]

no angst only soft >:(

because im thinking about you getting brought to Teyvat just as you finish watching the teaser too..it's probably cold as hell in there though. the Harbingers immediately rushing over to you and fighting over who gets to give you their coat to wear.

meanwhile your shivering just trying not to panic because wow that's a lot of pretty people huh.

either Pierro gives you his or Childe does as the only two people with a working braincell in the room (Childes only works on weekends though). Arlecchino has one sometimes but she's also busy trying to strangle Pantalone so.

so now your just being crowded by a bunch of excitied Harbingers trying to get a crumb of your attention.

ft the Tsaritsa basically breaking down the damn door and making it even colder and oh g-d you just barely come up to her waist. and now everyone's scrambling to warm the room up because your still shaking and it's only gonna get Worse with the Tsaritsa in the room.

she kinda feels bad about it but your attention being solely on her overpowers that thought anyway.

oh to be pampered by a bunch of dumbass (affectionate) Harbingers who constantly argue over who gets to do anything with you while the Tsaritsa absorbs your affection like a sponge

im like 0.5 seconds away from caving and writing for Arlecchino & Pierro + some other Harbingers 😔 - eros

IM VIBRATING IM SHAKING IM CRYING IM IM AAAAAAAAAA

FATUI FOUND FAMILY GO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR ALKFJDLASKJFASDF I LOVE THEM-

okay im okay im calm cool and collected i am living laughing and loving

Eros. write the fatui content 🔫 this is a threat /lh

just sitting there after watching the teaser, still shaking from excitement. No matter how many coats they give you, you're still shuddering from all of the pretty people in the room you feel you're about to burst.

Then the Tsaritsa barging into the room, her eyes the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, but oh dear you're shaking so hard and it's so cold you can barely blink. That and the Tsaritsa is just... too pretty. You're scared of looking away even to blink.

And they're all so worried about you, fussing over you, but they all part ways for the Tsaritsa. She kneels next to you (and you still barely reach her chest like this) and your face is bright red as she fusses with you herself. Offering her own coat to you, making sure to bundle you up safely in it. Only your eyes are peaking out, staring wide-eyed up at her.

I MADE THIS ABOUT THE TSARITSA AGAIN SORRY-

Anyways I'm absolutely insane over all of the harbingers. They're all trying to kill each other except for Pierro. The only sane one.

He's like the dad that gave up on his kids. He still cares about them! He's just given up on telling them to not murder each other. Every man for himself yknow? The most he'll say or do anymore is if they're about to destroy a section of the palace that doesn't belong to them. If they destroy their rooms oh well but public areas are off limits. It also comes out of their paychecks. So he's mostly given up on them.

They keep the murderous intent down to a minimum around you though! Or at least they try. The minimum for the harbingers is threats and throwing shit at people. Like I'm sure Arlecchino throws weapons at Childe and/or Pantalone on the daily. But when they're around you they throw stuff without murderous intent. There's a difference.

I love the fact they hate/love each other. Like only I'M allowed to murder you >:( yknow?

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

My reactions as I watch 16.9 (I know I'm gonna hate this but here we go)

Also: I realized right before the start of this episode that I get to cross "Penelope calls Luke a nickname" off my Garvez bingo card because of "my liege," so you know what? A win is a win.

One minute in and I'm already on the verge of tears because of Krystall. But at least I'm also crossing "flashback to the missing time between seasons" off my bingo card!

Emily you have no right to look that gorgeous in this sad of a scene

Scratch that I'm not on the verge of tears, I'm actually crying. "I couldn't watch them put the coffin in the ground" GODDAMMIT

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" IT IS TOO FUCKING EARLY IN THE MORNING TO BE CRYING THIS HARD

Have we... ever seen Rossi cry before? Like, I know he was sad when Carolyn died, but did he cry? Because how hard he's crying right now is tearing my heart to absolute shreds.

"His name is agent David Rossi" Elias: FUCK that's not good

How tf is he gonna spin that Rossi is dangerous????

Tara you look stunning and I adore you

OH FUCK VOIT IS RIGHT THERE

Oh god another flashback... am I ready for this?

May 2022... and an Al-Anon meeting? Who????

Oh my god, this is how Tara and Rebecca met? And they have almost identical backstories, that's really heartbreaking.

"I have to work on myself first." Did you do that, Rebecca? How well did it work for you?

Tara and Rebecca's first-ever interaction was kind of adorable ngl

Tara, babes, did YOU of all people automatically assume her ex was a man? You, a pansexual? Who has canonically dated men and women in the past?

Rebecca standing up for the BAU??? I love to see it

Bless you, Emily, for giving Tara and Rebecca the time to talk alone

Rebecca's moving to Sacramento and I'm crying again because I just want Tara to be happy. (Tara please go cry to Luke so I can get some Platonic TarVez moments and then go make out with Emily, please I beg)

"Goodbye, darling." OUCH. WHAT THE FUCK. THAT WAS BRUTAL.

I'm actually really liking this episode so far, I'm sure that won't last though.

Sicarius saying "I've read every single one of your books" is probably going to mess with Rossi for a bit, especially since we know because of the original series that Gideon warned him something like this could happen, that Rossi was essentially writing manuals on how to get away with it.

The way he mentioned acid, which is the stuff in the last kill kit. I wonder if Sicarius is intentionally giving things away or if he doesn't know how much they know

Okay the fact that Sicarius is sometimes pulling inspiration directly from Rossi's books is going to haunt him

"Every time you write one of these books you have to be careful how much detail you include, because if you're not careful... you're giving a wannabe killer rules for killing." DID I NOT JUST SAY

"I'd almost feel sorry for that poor son of a bitch. Almost." Unpopular opinion: I love David Rossi

Sicarius mentioning Rossi's wives is gonna fuck with him

I wanna know what it is that Elias gave Rossi to "prove" he's not Sicarius

Every time Luke and Penelope are together in a frame, even if it's just for 2 seconds, I hold on to it because I need Garvez crumbs in my life

Penelope why did you LOOK OVER AT LUKE when JJ mentioned Tyler Green??????

GARCIA I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BRING GREEN INTO THIS WHILE YOU ARE STANDING RIGHT BESIDE THE MAN WHO'S BEEN IN LOVE WITH FOR SEVEN YEARS I'M GONNA SCREAM

GODDAMMIT

The fact that Will brought in Tyler Green has me imagining that phone call from JJ, and even though JJ doesn't know everything, it's kinda funny with the context. Kinda.

I am really dreading this scene though.

Ngl that "Alvez and I" both broke my heart (bc she's not calling him "Luke") and made it soar (bc I'm taking CRUMBS)

Well, FUCK. Either Tyler Green can't identify him... or Sicarius has something on him to prevent him from identifying him. Maybe the rest of his family, like Alison's kid... or maybe Garcia? (I really want Green to be a bad dude)

The looks Luke just gave between Garcia and Green... I'm sure he's figuring it out.

Wow, Luke actually getting more than a line at once? I didn't realize the CME writers knew how to do that past the first two episodes (/s)

This little showdown between Luke and Green... I'm kind of here for it

Nooooooooooooooo Garcia do not talk to him alone, I don't want to see this!

Okay, Luke totally knows. The hatred/anger/jealousy is RADIATING off him when he looks at Green. Even when he looked at Garcia as he left. God, I hate this. If the last flashback does actually end up being the Garvez date... I'm gonna cry

"Luke is blunt, but he's not off-target" YES!!! DEFEND YOUR MAN!!!

TYLER GREEN LET GO OF HER HAND I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE

My heart is POUNDING right now, I'm so worried

Okay, I will admit, Elias is spinning a really convincing story

OH GOD DID GARCIA SEND ROSSI A VOICE MEMO MEANT FOR GREEN????

oh god oh god oh god

wait. wait wait. what if Garcia sent that message to Green, who then either made it into a phishing link and sent it to Rossi or he forwarded it to Elias who did that.

TYLER EVIL CANON?????

TYLER GREEN WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING FUCK ARE YOU DOING WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Wait a goddamn minute... a Tyler flashback?

Tyler Green, what in the actual goddamn hell are you doing?

Oh god, with everything that Elias told his wife, when she sees Rossi in the grocery store aisle, she's gonna freak out

Going back for the alcohol 😂 valid

Rossi I know what you're trying to do, but laying out Sydney's entire life for her is NOT going to make her trust you, it's just going to make her wary of you

HE DID NOT JUST TELL HER SHE'S THE REASON ELIAS IS A SUCCESSFUL KILLER, ROSSI MY DUDE THAT IS FUCKED UP

Oh god are we about to have Luke confront Garcia about seeing Tyler Green? My heart isn't ready. (wait fuck I just remembered that in one of the Garvez ads of social media the caption was "our hearts aren't ready." IS THIS WHAT THEY MEANT???) My heart is POUNDING

"Yikes, you mean it, mean it." LUKE STOP BEING ADORABLE WHEN I KNOW MY HEART IS ABOUT TO BREAK AND SO IS YOURS

Oh god if Luke didn't know before then he definitely knows now. I'm actually shaking.

"We need to talk, you and me." Hanging on to Garvez crumbs even though I know I will be sobbing in the next five minutes

JEALOUS LUKE CANON??? FINALLY???

"Come on, him?" jealous Luke canon and my heart is breaking

"He is marvelous in bed" DID YOU REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO LUKE??? TO LUKE???

Luke trying desperately not to imagine her in bed

"And I need a friend and you're the only one" YEAH AND HE'S ALSO KIND OF YOUR EX, BABES

"Sounds like I'm the last one." OUCH. OUCH. OUCH.

"I just gotta say one thing, all right?" oh god it's gonna be something about them and I'm not okay

"You sure know how to pick 'em." Okay, not what I expected

GARCIA YOU ACTUALLY NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP

That scene was ATROCIOUS. But at the same time... weirdly cathartic? I mean it has effectively ruined any hopes I have of Garvez happening, if there were any remaining at all, but at least now I have closure? Sort of?

"Well maybe I am devolving. My career is over, what the hell have I got to lose?" ROSSI WHAT?????? HUH????

Okay, as much as this episode is killing me a bit, I do actually really like it. Like... it's probably the best writing they can do with the shit storylines they've been set up with

Rossi, HOW could you have thought that this was a good idea?

Ooh, and Elias flashback! This is gonna be interesting.

We still have yet to see the third team member flashback, and I'm almost certain it is in fact going to be the Garvez date and I am not ready, but at least I'll have correctly guessed who the three were.

I have to do a separate block of text now, i've written so many notes😂

Look, I know people aren't the biggest fans of Rossi and were kind of upset that we were getting a Rossi-centric episode, but I do not mind. Yes, I'd like a focus on other characters (Luke and Tara) but I still like Rossi.

Okay, so is Tyler Green evil, or is he just hunting down Sicarius to kill him himself? Because if he is evil... I kinda wanna see what happens to Garcia. Who she turns to. Because right now Luke is the only one who really knows everything, and he understandably does not seem like he's in a very comforting mood

Garcia's about to play the message for the entire team and then they're all going to know but it might reveal if Green is actually bad or not. This is giving me flashbacks though to when Scratch cloned Garcia's phone to lure Morgan out.

Lol watch Emily have to suspend Garcia and then the old character who comes back is KEVIN 😂😂😂

EMILY KNOWSSSSSSSSSS

EVERYBODY KNOWSSSSSSSSSSS

(Please give me a Platonic TarVez scene of Tara comforting Luke PLEASE i beg)

Are we about to get our Missing Character Cameo or is it just going to be Will?

"I have to take a leak" "Too bad" did I laugh out loud at this

Elias roasting Rossi about being old is SENDING ME 😂😂😂

Tyler Green what are you doinggggg

Okay so Will and JJ in the field together, I kind of love, but the fact then that since they're obviously sitting beside each other because they're literally married means that GARVEZ Garcia and Luke are sitting beside each other... the tension in that jet must be palpable

TYLER GREEN EVIL CANON???? FR???

Okay so no, I was right, Green is just trying to get to Voit first.

"He looked me right in my face and he lied to me." Garcia, absolutely no one feels bad for you right now.

"Which is what I get for falling for someone with an avoidant attachment style" GIRL YOU'VE KNOWN HIM FOR LIKE 2 WEEKS AND YOU'RE ALREADY SAYING YOU'VE FALLEN FOR HIM???

At least if Garvez is over then Greencia seems to be pretty over too

Luke comforting her anyway... god he really is still in love with her, huh? I mean, this is now how I thought I'd get to cross "she's crying and he comforts her" off my bingo card, but I'll take it

Okay I keep bouncing back and forth on if Green is a bad guy or not

DID ROSSI JUST SPIT IN SICARIUS'S FACE??????????

TYLER GREEN WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

GREEN JUST GOT SHOT GODDAMN

Well Greencia's DEFINITELY over now

IT'S THE GARVEZ DATE FLASHBACK AM I READY I THINK THE FUCK NOT

Although this does allow me to cross off "flashback to the Garvez date" off my CME bingo card and "details about their date" off my Garvez bingo card, both things I thought would never happen

Why is it so awkward 😭

Luke is so dressed up I love him

ohh fuck I knew it was Covid that messed them up. Hey, Luke word of advice, don't talk about weird viruses on a first date

"It's not like the world's gonna shut down." well that aged poorly

I hate this I actually hate this why is this so weird

Luke ordering two more glasses of wine for himself I don't whether to laugh or cry. Probably both.

"It felt so good when you asked me out but I'm finding this to be very clunky" @snailsandpuppy-dogtails HOW IN GOD'S FUCKING NAME DID YOU PREDICT THIS ALMOST ENTIRELY IN YOUR TARVEZ BEER FIC

"What were we thinking?" YOU WERE THINKING THAT YOU'RE IN LOVE AND HAVE BEEN FOR YEARS, GODDAMMIT

"Can I share my truth with you?" "When have you ever not" I'M SORRY THAT'S ADORABLE

"I find it very hard to have a conversation with you when I am not dunking on you" that is a LIE. That is a LIE. I have RECEIPTS.

"With us, there absolutely is something there but not that." LIES. LIES. ALL OF IT.

This is making me so upset because there is not an actual world where they would not work out, this is absolute bullshit

"I know that your person is out there" YEAH AND IT'S YOU STFU

"I know that my person is out there" YEAH AND IT'S HIM STFU

"Where?" He desperately wants this to work out and my heart is breaking

"To finding the right person" NO. YOU FOUND THEM. YOU FOUND EACH OTHER. FIRST DATES ARE AWKWARD. IT HAPPENS. WHY WOULD YOU LET THAT STOP FOUR YEARS OF PINING OVER HER????

Why would they show us that scene out of nowhere? Like, Luke and Garcia weren't present before it started and now we're back in the field, it doesn't make a lot of sense.

I know my Garvez hopes should be crushed... but I can't help but think/hope that maybe this is setting up for them to try again

The audacity this episode has to be the most and least Garvez-y

Luke still looking out for Garcia and Green now... and him calling Green "Lieutenant..." the world does not deserve this man

Noooooooooooooo I thought Greencia was over but she's talking about having a future with him 😭😭😭

REBECCA HOLDING TARA'S HAND 😭😭😭

And now they know Rossi's been kidnapped

Overall thoughts? Not bad. I mean I hate how awkward the Garvez date was, and I don't like Greencia, but overall... this wasn't really that bad of an episode.