#There has been a hole in my roof for a week and they keep saying oh yeah the maintenance guy will be there tomorrow and then he doesn't sho

[dogboy-dyke]

All landlords go to Hell

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.

[seat-safety-switch]

Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of the American Horticultural Society? If you answered in the affirmative to this question, there are several detectives down at the station who would like to talk with you about your activities over the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm no snitch: I just want my shitboxes back.

Gardeners are nothing if not resourceful. If you go into a good-sized suburban backyard garden, you'll see trash cans getting used to protect plants. Old lawnmower-struck hose irrigating tender veggies. And CD-ROMs dangling everywhere, to alternatingly antagonize and beguile the crows into not eating all the cucumbers this year. I admire this kind of waste-not-have-not mentality, but sometimes it goes a little bit too far.

A couple months ago, there were some rumblings about "guerrilla gardeners." These rogue seedsfolx would roam the countryside, eyes peeled for opportunity to plant a garden on land they don't own. Upon finding old abandoned lots, sun-bleached traffic islands, and unattended flower beds, they would strike, stuffing innocent lands with their ovules. Soon, a gorgeous garden of hardy plants would be in that place. Pissed off the bylaw officers, who now had to deal with the beauteous, chaotic bounty of nature, rather than dead, brown grass when it came time to mow. I thought this was pretty funny, until it happened to me.

Do you know why they tell you not to leave your dog inside a car? Because it gets really hot inside a car. Sun goes into the windows, but the heat can't escape. We call this a "greenhouse effect." Do you know what else has a greenhouse effect? Fucking greenhouses do. One morning, I came out to my yard full of several dozen non-operable, shit-box automobiles to find that someone had jimmied the locks on each and every one of them. On the seats? Plants. Some were exotic hothouse varieties. Some were simply pretty flowers. And they were all growing strong, fed by the sunlight through the greasy windows, the controlled drip of rainwater through the rust holes in the roof, the iron-rich powder on the seats, and the humid rainforest atmosphere of my cars' interior. What was this town coming to?

I cleared this out, of course, placing the plants gently outside, where they belonged. Soon, even more exotic varietals of botanist-lust found their way into the cars to replace them. If I turned my back for a weekend, I'd be chopping a strange kind of vine that even Wikipedia says "I dunno" about. The local bylaw officer noticed, too, while trying to do one of her routine sweeps to see if she could get me on a technicality. Seeing the work of the guerrilla gardeners enraged her so much that I don't think she even noticed I started parking the Viscount in the neighbour's swimming pool to keep the interior safe from all but water lilies.

[mydarlingclaudia]

just you and me, alone in the dark

note : divider is from @/thecutestgrotto. ermmm idrk. Leon is ooc again I know, I’m trying to write a few Leon summer fics over the next few weeks, if you have any ideas please let me know I only have like two more 😔 mdni

wc : 3.8k

tags : @lottiies

desc : Leon’s back in town, that couldn’t be too hard on the gigantic crush you have on your best friend, right? friends to lovers, smut!! - unprotected p in v, little bit of fingering. not proofread, fem!reader, post re2r!Leon

Leon was back home for one week this summer, he’s been a cop in Raccoon City for almost a year now, the two of you have been calling and writing each other, trying to keep up with each others lives, but it’s nothing like being face-to-face again. You’ve been hosting him at your house for the past few days, Leon’s been going to catch up with a few other friends, but he’s always back at your place by at least midnight.

It wasn’t like when you were kids. Some of your friends had moved away, that arcade a mile or two away that you and Leon would always walk to had closed down and was now a fancy restaurant, the old lady who ran the laundromat and would give the two of you quarters for the arcade games had passed away. But your crush on Leon had stayed, maybe even grew a bit. The two of you had been changing bit by bit, too. Leon was a big city cop now, and compared to him, you felt like the friend who went to college and immediately ran back home.

Leon’s always been handsome to you, but since leaving for the academy and becoming an actual cop, he looks more grown-up. Seeing him in the mornings, his hair all messy and still half-asleep, was proving to be a problem. Along with when the two of you would watch movies at night, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing whatever food you were eating like you did when you were kids.

You’re starting to think that Leon might like you back.

You catch the way his eyes follow you when you walk through the house with wet hair, damp skin, and clothes that cling to your skin just a bit more after you get out of the shower. Or how he scoots closer to you when you both sit down together. Especially when he accidentally hugged you goodnight the second night he was over and pulled away with a red face. Not that you really mind being close to him, or his attraction to you.

Anyway, Leon’s leaving in two days, and the two of you are going camping for the night.

It’s not gonna be anything crazy, the two of you weren’t much for setting up tents and rocky roads riddled with pot-holes and roadkill. You’re staying the night at a smaller campground, there’s a lake, a playground for any kids there, and a camp store. There’s no need to bring a tent unless you’ve got more than three people with you. Each campsite comes with a small shelter that can hold a few people, each shelter has three walls and a roof, the opening faces the site.

Leon and you would come here with your family when you were kids, it was only an hour away from where you lived, the two of you wanted something a bit more fun to do than sit around at your house or go to dinner.

Leon hasn’t gone camping since before he left for the police academy, not that what the two of you are doing is anything difficult. But there’s no hotdogs cooked over the fire, just a pizza you had picked up a few hours ago and s’mores.

There’s chocolate around Leon’s lips as he chews on his s’more, yours goes ignored for a few minutes as you stare at him. The fire in front of you is low, you and Leon face it and lean back against the table part of the wooden bench, your knees knocking together.

“I know I got shit on my face.” He says to you, turning to look at you as he licks the marshmallow off of his fingers.

You smile at him and shake your head softly, taking a small bite of your s’more. “I’m just looking at you.” Leon only giggles, wiping his mouth with his palm.

“You’ve had plenty of time to look at me.”

“I know that, doesn’t mean I have to stop. And besides, you look at me all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m talking to you, you just stare at me sometimes.”

“Because I missed you terribly, and I’m happy to have you back home.” You joke a little bit, finishing off the dessert in your hand. “I’m still gonna miss you when you go back to the city.”

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t miss me so much if you came to visit every once-in-a-while. You know it wouldn’t kill you to drive three hours to see me. You’d like the city, anyway.” Leon scooted even closer to you and nudged your shoulder with his, still keeping his eyes on you.

“I know, I know. Just goddamn, I don’t get why you couldn’t have been a local sheriff or deputy or some shit. You could give me parking tickets everyday.” You laugh, his smile drops a little.

“Raccoon City is as good as it gets for me, I could give you parking tickets everyday of the year if you lived there.”

You drop a hand to his knee, squeezing it gently and leaning in closer to him. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to be mean. I know the city’s a big deal for you, and I’m really, really happy for you. You worked really hard.”

“You flatter me,” Leon’s smile brightened a bit again, your heart fluttered. “You haven’t seen me in action yet.”

“Yeah? And what exactly is ‘action’ for you? Helping old ladies cross the street? Maybe pulling someone over for speeding?” You chuckle, letting go of his knee and pushing against him.

“God, when did you get so mean?” Leon snickered and rolled his eyes, grabbing your bicep and pushing you away from him.

“Oh, come on, I’m supposed to be mean to you, that’s what best friends do. You’ve never complained before.”

“Yeah, you complain constantly when I do it.”

“Because boys aren’t supposed to be mean to girls. That’s the rule, aren’t you supposed to know all the rules, officer?”

“Don’t call me that!” Leon laughs, pushing you further away. “Listen, just- just come over. I just wanna see you, even if it’s for a couple of hours. I miss you a lot.”

You can feel your heart clench a little at his words. You know he means it, he’s always tried to come over and visit when he was able to, even when he was in the academy. You just didn’t want to be a bother to him, he’s living his dream, and you don’t want to get in the way of it.

“I’ll try, I promise. Maybe I can come over for a weekend in September.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to it. I was starting to think you didn’t like me anymore.” He jested, turning his gaze to the fire that was almost completely gone now.

“Jesus, don’t say that. I’ll always like you.”

That caught him off guard a little bit, you watched as his cheeks turned red and how his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.

“That- that’s good.”

You smile at him, scooting closer once again and bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder to shake him gently. “Don’t forget it.” There’s a pause. Leon looks back up to you from the fire, his eyes bore into yours for a few long seconds before they trail down to your lips. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Let’s go to the lake, it’s fun to swim when it’s getting dark.”

—

Leon had raced you back to your campsite three hours later and won. It was dark now, nearing eleven p.m., the fire was now completely out and all the other campers were asleep. The campground is illuminated by streetlights placed sparingly along the road, you can hardly see anything on your site besides your car and the outside of your shelter.

The lake had been fun, it was different from when you’d come here together a decade ago and push each other off the dock and into the water, but it was fun in a new kind of way. Luckily, there weren’t many people there due to the late hour, not that either of you would’ve really stopped even if it had been packed. Yours and Leon’s swimsuits cling to your skin, you probably would’ve run the race, but once he got in front of you you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the way his back muscles looked when they were wet.

“Fuck, I didn’t set up my air mattress.” You chuckle as you follow Leon into your campsites shelter, shuffling your bare feet along the ground to try to keep yourself from tripping.

“Well, hurry up then.” He giggles but waves you off, his back turned to you as he runs his towel over his wet hair once again. You scoff at him half-heartedly, turning away and going to get your air mattress out of the trunk of your car.

You discover that Leon’s air mattress is bigger than yours once you finally pull it back into the shelter and lay it down next to his. The air-pump is already attached to the nozzle, Leon sits at the bench and watches as you try to inflate the mattress.

“This isn’t working,” You groan, rising up from your squatting position and letting go of the air-pump to shake your arms free of the strain. Leon just shrugs at you, you roll your eyes and squat down again, patting down the air mattress, looking for rips, and you find one that you can fit your entire fist inside. You groan again, more loudly this time. “My mattress is trashed, I don’t have tape or any patches that’ll fix this.”

Leon rises from his seat at the bench, stepping into the shelter along side you and looking down at your air mattress. “You can share with me.”

“Really? You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t mind, it’s probably gonna be a bit colder tonight, anyway.” Leon offers you a small smirk, offering a hand to you to help you stand up.

“Thanks,” You say as you take his hand, he pulls you to your feet, holding onto your hand for a second before he pulls away. The two of you put your hands on your hips at the same time, glancing around the site. “I gotta get changed.”

“Alright,”

“I don’t wanna walk all the way to the bathroom, though.” You sigh, Leon chuckles and looks towards you.

“You gonna change here?”

“Yeah,” You don’t miss how his face drops slightly, the color returning to his cheeks. “Can you hold the flashlight for me?”

“Wh-“ He cuts himself off when you reach for the hem of your wet shirt, already pulling it up over your head and revealing the one piece you wore underneath.

“You don’t gotta look at me, dumbass. Just hold it so I can see what I’m doing.” You don’t see Leon nod, but you see the bright flashlight turn on and shine against you. You drop your wet shirt to the ground and reach for the straps of your swimsuit, beginning to pull it down over your shoulders.

You make the mistake of glancing over at Leon, he hadn’t turned away in the slightest, his gaze was locked onto you like it was absolutely necessary for him to watch you undress. Despite this, you don’t stop. You don’t know if he saw you look at him, but he keeps watching you as you begin to peel to wet swimsuit off your body.

He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple goes up and down once again as he does so. The flashlight in his hand shakes slightly as you pull the swimsuit off your body completely.

Leon looks back up at your face for the first time and immediately winces, his free hand goes to his eyes as if to cover it and pretend he hadn’t seen you fully naked.

“Leon-“

“No, I-I’m sorry. You just- no, goddamnit, that was- shit, y-you’re just really pretty and I-I get it if you’re mad.“ His apology stumbles out of his mouth, his face is even more flushed and his hand that he had moved to cover his eyes now runs through his damp hair. You trail your eyes up and down his body, unsure where to focus, but your gaze keeps landing on the tent forming in his swim trunks.

“I’m not mad.”

“… S-Seriously?” Leon’s gaze meets yours again, he looks a little dumbfounded and awestruck, you can’t help but grin at him.

“No.”

“Oh,” He chuckles awkwardly, clearing his throat and looking down at his feet. “This is just k-kinda embarrassing.”

“… Sorry.” You mumble, looking from him out at the dark campsite.

“What? No- don’t apologize. You just look pretty, I mean, you’ve always been really fucking pretty and I’m just looking at you like- God, I don’t even know. Just don’t apologize.”

“Thanks,” You look back at him, you can’t help the smile on your face when he calls you pretty.

“I mean it, I’ve thought you were the prettiest since like, high school.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna sound weird or anything, but I’ve always kinda… liked you? Like, more than a-a friend. And I’m sorry for telling you this when you’re naked in front of me, I just-“ You don’t let Leon finish his sentence, shutting him up with a kiss instead of letting him get his thoughts out.

He melts against you almost instantly, his hands finding their way to your hips as the flashlight is discarded onto the floor. Your hands anchor themselves in his hair, keeping his head in place as the kiss goes on for another five seconds before the two of you split apart for air.

“I should’ve asked, I’m sorry-“ Your own apology is cut short when Leon pulls you against him even closer, kissing you again but only for two seconds.

“I told you not to say sorry.” You smile at him, your hands moving from his hair to the back of his neck. Before you can even stop yourself, your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin you find there.

Leon groans, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as his head tilts back to give you more skin to work with, which you happily accept. Your hands move again, this time going from his neck to graze over his bare chest. Leon takes that as a sign to move his hands, leaving your hips to grip just underneath your ass. You giggle and push yourself up against him more, he gives a soft chuckle in response.

“This okay with you?” He asks, one hand moves up to cup your ass and squeeze it gently.

“Yeah, it’d be better if we weren’t standing, though.” You pull away from him, his grip on you loosens as he takes your hint and sits himself on the ground at the foot of his air mattress.

You wanted to straddle his lap, but when you lower yourself down to do so, Leon grabs hold of your hips once again and flips you so the upper half of your back rests on top of his air mattress as he hovers over you. He kisses you again, this time tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue to ask for entry. That doesn’t take any negotiation for you, his tongue meets yours, your arms find their way around his neck as he lowers himself down on top of you more, your breasts pressing against his chest.

“We need to be quiet,” You whisper to him once you pull away from his lips.

“Everyone’s asleep by now, and there’s only like, two other campsites near us.” He chuckles slightly, pulling back a few inches to get a better look at you.

“Leon.” You scold quietly, his chuckle turns into a snicker as his hands find their ways up to your breasts.

“Okay, okay,” Leon shakes his head slightly as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples. “Don’t ruin my fun just yet, I’ve been wanting to do this for years.”

“Have you now?” Your arms kissed around his neck, you push yourself further into his touch.

“You’ve got no idea,” He looks up from where your tits rest in his hands to your face, leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss goes on for what feels like thirty minutes before one of your arms unwraps itself from his neck and goes down to the hem of his swim trunks, you tug on it lightly.

Leon pulls back to look at you, his hands leave your breasts to rest on your thighs. The teasing smile on his face is gone, now replaced with a look of concern.

“You’re absolutely sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely.” You smile at him, you cup his face in your hands and give him a small peck on the lips, feeling him smile against your mouth as his hands leave your thighs to pull down his trunks. Leon’s hands are back on you two seconds later, dipping in between your thighs to run his fingers through your slick folds.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, leaning his head down to press kisses to your cheek as his thumb presses against your clit, gently probing against your entrance with his middle finger. You whine softly, it only seems to spur him on, he gently pushes his finger inside you, continuing the soft amount of pressure on your clit. “You’re really pretty.”

“You keep saying that.” You giggle a little bit, your hands move to rest on his shoulders as your head tips to the right.

“Because I mean it.” You’re not sure why he groans, but he does once his finger slides deeper inside of you. “I missed you so much, I didn’t think that this was gonna happen when I came back to town, but I’m so happy it is.”

“M-Me too,” You agree a bit breathlessly, Leon’s kisses trail down to your throat as his pointer finger slowly joins his middle finger. You’re not even really sure how to feel right now, you’ve been craving this for so long, maybe not in a campground with a shelter that hardly concealed any noise, but you really hoped that this wasn’t going to be where things ended for you and Leon.

Leon’s kisses turns into gentle bites as his ministrations continue and the pressure on your clit increases. You bite down on your lip, trying to not let yourself get too loud, but the noises that do slip past your lips, Leon responds to with his own.

“Leon, please.” Your small whimper makes him stop, his fingers come to a halt inside you and he pulls back again to look down at your face.

“You sure?” You only close your eyes and nod, your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as you wait. “Okay, I got you, I- I’m gonna be gentle.”

His fingers slip out of you, you whine quietly at the loss, earning a tiny snort from him as he pulls back to sit on his knees, keeping one hand attached to your thigh, longing himself up with your entrance. Leon pushes in slowly, watching your face and how your mouth falls open at the intrusion. He lets you adjust for maybe fifteen seconds before he starts moving slowly, keeping one hand on your thigh and slipping the other underneath your back to hold you up a bit.

“Holy shit, you feel s-so good.” He mumbles to you, biting down on his own lip to keep his groans from getting too loud. You nod, unable to find any words to respond with while you begin rocking your hips gently to try and meet his movements.

Leon’s thrusts don’t get much faster than this, he’s trying his best to be gentle and quiet, you’re sure it would be a different story if you were back home. You let your whines get a bit louder as you let the feeling of him pushing in and out of you take over, the soft squelching noises don’t help.

Your hands roam over his chest and shoulders as he continues on for the next few minutes. You can’t make any complaints, you’re sure he can’t, either.

His hand that had been on your thigh had left to trail in between once again, finding your clit and circling it, letting strained pants and whimpers fall from his lips as he hovered above you. Neither of you can find words to say to each other, too focused on how the both of you feel as you move together.

After a few more minutes, the feeling coiling up in your lower abdomen is beginning to become unbearable. “L-Leon, mm fuck- Leon, ‘M gonna-“

“It’s okay, ‘M not gonna stop just y-yet.” Only then does his hips snap forward a bit harder, determined to push you over the edge.

The moan you let out when you came was louder than any other noises you had made that night, Leon seemed to appreciate it, you could tell by the grin that grew on his face as you began to calm down, not that he stopped moving. He pulled out before he came, instead, cumming on the shelter floor and your thighs, you couldn’t say that it bugged you.

The two of you laid there for maybe five minutes, trying to catch your breath as you pressed kisses against each others skin. The floor was a mess but Leon only focused on wiping his release off of you, a stupid smile was painted on his face as he did so.

After the two of you went to piss on separate sides of the site, you met back up in the shelter and actually got dressed this time around. Leon didn’t push you away when you crawled onto his air mattress with him, and he was more than happy to wrap his arms around you and share his blanket with you. Your hands rested on his shoulder blades, head pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. One of his hands was in your hair and the other rested on the small of your back, holding you close to him.

“I don’t… want to leave you just yet.” He said quietly.

“We’ve got a couple more days.”

“No, I know. What I mean is I- I want you to come to the city with me. Just for a few days. I just wanna figure things out between us because I think there’s a lot we should probably discuss and I just really, really don’t want things to end here.” Leon’s voice was a bit louder, you could hear the slight tremble in his words as he spoke, but you didn’t look up at him.

“Would you really be okay with me coming over?”

“All I want is for you to come over. Please.”

“Alright,” You smile against his chest, closing your eyes. “Just don’t keep me waiting with your fancy job.”

“I’m sure my bosses would understand me needing to put a few things on hold for my dream girl.”

[incorrectcreepypastafam]

Creepypasta As Hazbin Hotel

Ben: so what do you think

Jeff: I’m sorry what the fuck was that

Helen: we’re not filming a porn as a commercial

Puppeteer: why not

Nina: I like being forced

Jeff: keep that to yourself, Nina

Nina: Puppeteer sir

Puppeteer: call me dickmaster

Nina: Puppeteer.

Nina: it’s a solution to our biggest problem

Jeff: oh yeah herpes that’s a bitch

Nina: no our other biggest problem

Jeff: oh uh ugly people?

Jeff: math?

Jane: face my wrath

Jeff: who are you

Jane: I attacked you literally last week

Jeff: ?

Jane: we’ve done battle like twenty times

Jeff: well you must’ve been really bad at this

Liu: oh god, here I go, Jeff. just another fucking day with Jeff. hey hey hey fuck my life

Liu: looks like you have everything under control here

Lyra: of course I do, fuck you, now shoo, go take care of the piss baby

Liu: so you should…?

Jeff: do nothing?

Liu: great idea!!

Toby: you still pissed he almost beat you that time?

Jeff: uh fuck you

Toby: just saying

Sally: *gasp* the bad boy is back

Sally: never leave me again

Brian: we’re about 80% sure she’s harmless

Jeff: this is stupid

Lyra: this is not stupid!

Lyra: it’s just the GAMEEEEE

Lyra: Liu did it well so please try to do the same!

Jeff: I’m too sober for this

Jeff: I’m looking forward to stabbing the other residents

Slenderman: WHAT WHY

Slenderman: people are being nice because they want you to feel welcome

Jeff: *middle finger*

Liu: *middle finger*

Toby: *laughs evilly*

Nina: I have my doubts

Tim: Puppeteer’s minions are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them

Jeff: oh well in that case I’d be delighted to

Tim: humanely

Jeff: well that’s a lot less fun

Jeff: this time everyone has to catch him, okay? Unless you want me to hurt you

Jeff: I love to suck-

Tim: I swear to fuck if you say dicks

Jeff: popsicles, you sicko! Get your mind outta the gutter

Jeff: but you know, dicks too

Sally: sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others

Jeff: NINA?!

Clockwork: uh my name’s Clocky

Jeff: no one gives a shit

Jeff: call me fake one more time, motherfucker

Jeff: i dare you

Toby: fake

Jeff: fucking asshole- *hits his head on roof*

Toby: you done?

Liu: Lyra, sweetie, you uh you good?

Lyra: nope no not really!

Sally: maybe it’s time

Lazari: no

Sally: to ask

Lazari: don’t say it

Sally: your dad

Lazari: UGHHHHHH

Lyra: wait that’s it

Jeff: kill everyone?

Lyra: noooooo

EJ: what’s the hold up?

EJ: you got daddy issues?

Lulu: no we’ve just never been close

Lulu: after Mom died he never really wanted to see me

Lulu: he calls sometimes but only if he’s bored or needs me to do something

EJ: daddy issues

Brian: this is the first time she’s called you in years

Brian: this has to be perfect

Brian, picking up the phone: HEYYYY BITCH

Jeff: you may have heard of me from my radio broadcast

Tim: hmmm NOPE I guess that’s why Toby called it the Hazbin Hotel hahaha

Jeff: hahaha it was actually my idea

Tim: hahaha well it’s not very clever

Jeff: haha fuck you

Toby: OKAY

Brian: you like girls! so do I! We have so much in common

Clockwork: how you been?

Jeff: good! Until five minutes ago

Sadie: hey Sally what you been up to, girlie?

Sally: fighting bugs

Sadie: and how’s that going for you

Sally: they’re winning

Sally: but not for long

Lulu: how come he can have faith in me but my own father can’t?

Jeff: oooooh drama *pulls out popcorn*

Slenderman: hi

Slenderman: Slenderman

Slenderman: that’s my wall that you just blew up

Jeff: don’t fucking shush me bitch

Sadie: I need a break but hug a koala for me

Nina: omg can you imagine an actual KOALA

Jeff: anyway you sure fucked up didn’t you

Jeff: oh Lyra, you look an absolute mess

Sadie: I won’t hurt anyone for you

Jeff: who’s asking?!

Ben: Jeff and Toby just left like they were running away from their responsibilities

Ben: should we be alarmed?

Helen: are you fucking high?

Lulu: oh I’m just kidding

Lulu: I know you’re an ace in the hole

Ann: a what now?

Sally: I named all the stains on the carpet

Sally: that one’s Fred

Liu: look I can’t resist a fight okay

Liu, about Jeff: especially when I get to tag team with this fuckhead

Lyra: live tonight however you want because-

Toby: we’re all gonna die!

Dina: alright let’s give it up for not dying!

Dina: love not dying!

Dina: … drinks?

Jeff: I mean personally I’m excited it’s been a long time since I stabbed someone and really meant it you know what I mean

Lazari: I dub thee king roach

EJ: oh to understand your twisted little mind

Jeff: anyway I guess

Jeff: please don’t die tomorrow

Jeff: okay bye

Lyra: rip Jane’s cunt mouth out her ass

Jeff: would you just- chill, Lyra, fuck

Zero: they appear to have some kind of shield sir

Puppeteer: oh really? I didn’t see this giant fucking shield in front of me YOU DUMB BITCH NO SHIT

Jeff: I’m about to end your fucking life

Puppeteer: fuck you, you red piece of- too much fucking red- fuck shut up

Ben: hahaha poetry

Jeff: what just happened? Ffffuck

Toby: these fucking angels won’t stop coming

Jeff: HA

Toby: okay I walked right into that one

Jane: Before I take your life I’m going to tear that other eye out of your face

Clockwork: try it bitch

Jeff, to Jane: live

Jeff: live knowing that you only do because I let you

Slenderman: see you messed with my daughter so now I am going to FUCK you

Zalgo: …

Clockwork & Lyra: …

Jeff: 😏

LJ: well this just got interesting

Sally: it’s fuck you up, Dad

Slenderman: wait what did I say?

Liu: how’s mercy taste, you little bitch

Slenderman: take your little friends and GO HOME

Slenderman: please

Puppeteer: I’m The Puppeteer

Helen: and I’m-

Puppeteer: nobody gives a shit who you are, Helen

Zero: anyway congrats to Slenderman and his crew for not being totally fucking useless for once

[tinkaaabutt]

White Ferrari Vi.!

SubTitle: “were small and not worth the mention”

Summary:

Vi doesn’t know how to love gently. And you? You’ve always loved her too much. On the open road, it’s just you, her, and the unspoken truths that sit heavy between you.

The engine hums low beneath the rain, steady against the silence between you two. Vi’s hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, jaw tight. The rhythm of windshield wipers and the occasional squelch of tires cutting through puddles are your only companions. It’s better than the words, you think, because when Vi speaks, it always cuts.

You look at her profile—the sharp lines of her jaw, the telltale furrow between her brows. She’s beautiful in the kind of way that feels impossible to touch without ruining. And yet, you had touched her. Again and again. You don’t know if it was your courage or your stupidity that made you stay all those nights. All those mornings. Until now.

“What?” she asks suddenly, voice clipped but low. Her eyes stay on the road, but you see her jaw twitch. She knows you’re staring. Vi’s always been good at catching you in your quiet moments.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that,” she snaps, sharper now. “You’ve been staring holes into me for miles.”

You turn your head to the window, watching rain blur the edges of the world outside. “I just— I’m tired, Vi.”

The words hang in the air, soft but heavier than anything you’ve said in weeks. You don’t need to explain. She knows what you mean. The late nights waiting for her. The apologies she’d offer that never really reached her eyes. The fights that always ended with her walking away.

“Then stop,” Vi bites back, her voice cracking like a whip. “If it’s so bad, just stop.”

You laugh under your breath, bitter and hollow. “You think it’s that easy?”

Her hands tighten on the wheel. “Yeah, maybe it should be.”

You hate her for a moment, the way she always makes it sound so simple. The way she can shut you out like the rain outside doesn’t exist. You look at her again, feeling the ache crawl up your throat.

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, Vi.”

Her eyes flick to you, startled, but she does as you ask. The car slows to a stop on the side of the road, rain pattering against the roof like it has nowhere else to go. She turns to you, and for the first time in weeks, Vi’s walls are down.

“What the hell do you want from me?” she asks, but there’s no fire in her voice anymore. Just smoke. “You want me to say I’m sorry? You want me to fix this?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, voice cracking under the weight of your exhaustion. “I just— I can’t keep chasing something that doesn’t want to be caught.”

Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks like she wants to argue, to fight, to scream. But then she deflates. Her hands fall to her lap, and for a moment, she looks small. Lost.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she says quietly. It’s the first honest thing she’s said in a long time.

“I know,” you reply. “But you did.”

The rain fills the silence again. You wonder if it’s too late to turn back. Or if this is the last stop before the two of you drive in opposite directions.

Let me know what you think!

Guys a fic called good luck babe.! For ellie is abt to come it’s been sitting in my notes along w hella other fics

[al-the-remix]

don't think I saw Climbing up You Walls but I am so intrigued

I just realized i really fucked up that typing, it's supposed to say "Climbing Up Your Walls" lol, but still, this one is about Tommy's house being in a permanent state of renovation--he's too busy--he has years to make decisions--he doesn't know what he likes--he's too specific--and then in swoops Buck with just enough construction experience not to be a nuisance when lending a hand and applies his foolproof Clipboard Treatment to helping Tommy get his act together (and it becomes their house along the way). Also, there's some mild angst from Tommy's side as he wonders if Buck's feeling as serious as Tommy is this soon into their relationship (Buck's impulsivity makes him nervous).

“See what I mean?” Evan had his hands on his hips, surveying the impact zone that is the central room of Tommy’s 1920s Californian bungalow.  Tommy had tried to tidy up…he really had. But half way through trying to decide if he should take the sawhorses out from the middle of his living room and push the old coffee table back last night Tommy had decided his efforts were futile. He was better off letting Evan get an honest look at what he was signing up for. “It’s not that bad…”  “Evan.” “What? It’s not!” He held his hands up in defence, the tips of his ears glowing siren red.  Tommy just shook his head. “You’re not that good of a liar, babe.” “Seriously,” Evan walked up to one of his more recent projects and examined it, a side table Tommy had begun to re-stain then had to bring back inside during a freak storm…a month ago.  “I was worried it would be more of a hoarding situation or something but besides all the sawdust and power tools, this place is pretty neat.” Tommy glanced sidelong at the stack of tile boxes he’s been using as a side table for upwards of two years. “That’s very generous of you.” “When did you buy this place?” Tommy signed and sat down on the arm of the couch, knowing there’d be a big dust stain on his ass when he stood and not caring. “2008, I never really spent any of my money when I was in the army and spent most of my two weeks between deployments couch-surfing. I got some money from selling my grandfather’s place after he died, but it wasn’t much.” Evan frowned. “So you’ve had this place for almost two decades, it’s hard to believe you haven't done anything to it. ” “Okay, I did all the major stuff.” Tommy started listing stuff off on his fingers as Evan listened intently. “There was some siding that needed replacing, a few windows, and I spent a whole summer re-insulating and re-shingling the roof. The plumbing is updated. The guts are solid. And I spent about the rest of my savings at the time on the garage… It’s more the cosmetics that aren’t my strong suit. “I want to keep the character of the place but there are some things that just need to be updated. And the more I dig, the more issues I find and then I never actually get around to making things look nice.” Tommy shrugs, feeling like maybe he said a little too much. “I guess because it was just me here and I don't really mind living with patchy drywall and holes in the walls.” Evan only looked more enthused. “Look, we can work with this. I've done a bunch of odd jobs over the years, including construction. And I've got two hands. I can help."  Suddenly Evan’s grin dimmed, and Tommy watched as he visibly reeled himself back in, shoving his hands in his pockets and scuffing the toe of his boot against the drop sheet that had been doubling as an area rug. "If you want, of course, I don't want to overstep.” We. No matter what, it was always “we” with Evan. It didn’t matter how fresh this relationship was, Evan had a way of making Tommy feel like no matter what, he wasn't in it alone, whether the “it” in question was couples pickle-ball on Sundays or unpacking decades worth of emotional baggage.  It was an unexpected, yet pleasant feeling Tommy was still trying to get used to. He wanted to trust it with his whole body, lie down in it and let it slowly creep over his face like warm bathwater. He wanted to trust Evan. “You could never,” Tommy assured. “I’d love your help.” The smile Evan gave him lit up his whole face, breathing life into something small and dim nestled in the hollow of Tommy’s chest.  Evan clapped his hands together, already onto the next thing. “Okay, so first I think we start–”

[pimosworld]

would you be able to write something about santi and frankie making a tree house for the reader's kids?

her kids have always wanted one and there's a perfect tree for it right in the center of the back yard, but she's never had the time to make it herself or get a professional to make it.

one day, at a neighborhood barbecue, pope is talking to reader's kids (trying desperately to be their favorite uncle) when they inform him of their plan of how to get their mom to make their tree house.

he tells them to draw him up a plan of their dream tree house and tells them he'll see what he can do. with the help of fish, they draw up a real plan of action from the drawing and set out finding materials. reclaimed wood, an old slide that really just needs a fresh paint job, a carpet to go inside, and some old moroccan style tiles for the roof.

they show up, truck bed full of supplies, unannounced and get to work unloading and constructing the thing. how can the reader be so mad when her kids look so happy helping them build it and playing in it once it's built?!

(new anon, sorry that this was so long.)

Pairing-Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Your kids find a way to get what they want both for you and for them.

CW-SFW, Fluff, angst, mentions of parent loss, mentions of spouse loss, tf boys being protective, tf boys being great uncles, mentions of insecurities, kids being menaces, dating, cursing, inaccurate descriptions of tree house build time because this is my world and we can build tree houses quickly, so much fluff. The boys being good with their hands.

WC-2.7k

A/N- I’m sorry this took me so long anon. Writers block sucks but it’s only fitting that the anniversary of my first ever fic COMPANY that came up a few weeks ago featuring the tf boys is kicked off with your request for some Frankie and Santi being amazing. I made some adjustments but I hope this is everything you wanted and more.

[Triple Frontier Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

If you build it

“I can tell they’re up to something.” Santi shoots you a look as he flips the burgers on the grill. 

  “They’re kids of course they’re up to something. The question is what.” Santi closes the grill as he looks across the wide expanse of yard at his niece and nephew playing in the sandbox. 

  It looks like the childlike version of an ops mission happening. To someone else it may just look like a little girl playing with a stick in the sand but Santi knows better than that. 

  ****

  It’s such an odd feeling, you should still be grieving right? You most certainly shouldn’t be looking at Santi and his chiseled jaw as he watches your kids play. Or watching the way his muscles flex in his tight tee shirt as he crosses his arms. You’re so distracted you don’t even realize he’s speaking to you. 

  “Can you watch the grill for a second?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you feel flushed for all the wrong reasons. The sweltering heat does nothing to hide your embarrassment. 

  “Ya of course but don’t be gone too long. I’ve been known to burn anything on the grill.” 

  “I’ll make it quick then.” He winks at you as he walks across your lush green yard. Swiftly dodging a football that Benny throws deliberately at his head as he flips him off in return. 

  “You’re gonna burn a hole in his pants if you keep staring.” You jump at the sound of Frankie’s voice and he has the decency to look apologetic at your reaction. 

  You hadn’t really noticed how much they’ve all aged in the last few months. His hair is a little longer as it curls around his cap. His worry lines are just a bit deeper than you last remember them being. Yet he still smiles at you all the same as he pulls you into a deep hug, kissing the top of your head. 

  “I didn’t mean to scare you cariño, I was only joking.” 

  You shove him off playfully as you open the grill again. “I wasn’t staring.” 

  He bumps you out of the way as he grabs the spatula from your hand. “Sure…whatever you say. Your secrets are safe with me.” You watch him as he effortlessly dispatches all the burgers to a plate and sets them aside. 

  You bite your lip as you wait for him to say something but you know he’s giving you time to think. Something he’s always done for you, knowing that your mind is going a mile a minute and if anyone interrupts that train of thought it might be gone forever. 

  He’s just standing beside you like a steady weight as he glances around the yard at some people he barely knows and others he knows like the back of his hand. Now it’s mostly close friends and one or two neighbors, compared to several months ago when he couldn’t pick out a familiar face among the crowd. People tend to forget that your grieving continues even long after you’ve decided not to show up. 

  He shouldn’t feel bad for you because you’re a strong woman. More resilient than any of them could ever be. 

  “Frankie, can I ask you something?” You say with a nervous smile. 

  “You’re allowed to move on.” 

  You glance up at him and it’s intense the way he meets your eyes. “I didn’t ask the question.” 

  “You didn’t have to…my answer is still the same.” 

  ****

  As Santi approaches the sandbox he can see some kind of intricate drawing. Lexi is using a stick practically the size of her to draw it out while her brother Liam watches from the corner. She looks so much like you, especially with her focused face on as she draws another detailed set of lines that he still can’t quite make out. 

  Liam glances up at him and gestures with his fingers to stay quiet. Santi takes a seat at the corner of the box near him as they patiently wait for her to finish. He looks so much like him that Santi has a hard time not getting choked up, he’s grateful that they both have your personality. 

  “Okay.” Lexi throws the stick to the side and dusts her hands off on her white skirt. “I think it’s done.” She looks up and flashes a toothy smile at Santi and he can’t help the way his heart melts. 

  “Can I ask what exactly this is?” 

  The little girl lets out a deep sigh as she looks over at her twin brother and he just holds his hands out in silent communication that she needs to take the lead. 

  “Well…this is a tree house.” She pauses briefly and Santi thinks that’s cool that she can draw but then she starts. In great detail for several minutes animatedly explaining the process of her vision coming to life. 

  Santi has to get up and stand from her perspective to really get a grasp of what she’s talking about. He tries to follow along as she explains the duel ladder system, one on the trunk and another hanging down from the middle entrance of the house. Two doors, one for entry and the other for the slide,that lets out perfectly into the softest patch of grass in the yard. Her and her brother evidently couldn’t decide on carpet or tile so they opted to split it down the middle. Her half would be tile and his half would be carpet. They would obviously need enough room for arts and crafts, the kitchen and naps. 

  He’s never been so impressed with an eight year old in his entire life. 

  He’s so enthralled with the design that he doesn’t notice the little girl standing there staring up at him expectantly. 

  “So what do you think?” She’s wringing her little hands together as she glances over at her brother with an equally curious look on his face. As if a lightbulb goes off in his head Santi is suddenly aware of what exactly they were up to. 

  “Mija…are you asking if I can help?” 

  She nods her head as she rocks back and forth in the sand. 

  “We both have allowances if that helps.” Liam chimes in from the corner of the sandbox and Santi has to try to disguise his smile behind his hand. 

  “Foods ready!” You yell from across the yard and Santi meets your eyes. A look of what are you up to written all across your face. 

  He crouches down waving Liam over and the little boy carefully avoids the blueprints in the sand to join them. “Okay…here is what I want you to do.” 

  ****

  Your kids are being uncharacteristically good. They finished all their food, they haven’t bothered you in over an hour and even offered to help clean up the table after everyone ate. 

  Most everyone has cleared out from the barbecue besides for the boys who seem to be enthralled with something over by the sandbox. Frankie keeps glancing over his shoulder at you and Will has shot you a thumbs up twice. If they thought subtlety was their strong suit they are sadly mistaken. You often wonder how they managed to be special ops and keep things a secret when it’s so obvious they’ve all got something up their sleeve. 

  ****

  The something they had planned despite your initial worry was in fact a much needed day for yourself. Benny was going to take the kids to the zoo and despite wanting all the credit Will assured you he would be accompanying them so that an adult would be present. 

  Over the last several months various repairs around the house had gone undone in the chaos of being a newly single mom. Frankie and Santi volunteered to spend the day getting your house in order while you had a full day planned with Will’s wife Jenna. Brunch, pedicures, shopping…you couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself to a day that wasn’t centered around your kids. As much as you loved them you knew that at times it felt like the person you used to be was long buried underneath a world of stress and hurt. 

  Dating was completely off the table at the moment…especially since your current situation was all but off limits. Taking care of yourself for once could be a great start in the right direction. 

  ****

  “I told you to get half inch screws Pope.” 

  “Those are half inch!” Santi says as he hears Frankie grumbling under his breath. 

  “These are definitely a quarter inch and that explains another problem.” Frankie chides as Santi flips him off. 

  They’ve been at this for a few hours having completed the tasks in your house in a matter of no time. All this a ruse to get the tree house completed before you and the kids are back from your day out. 

  It’s been awhile since they’ve done something like this. Not just the physical labor but the reward at the end being something that they know is going to brighten a lot of days. They may bicker and fight like brothers but at the end of the day Santi knows how much they both needed this. To have their minds occupied with an intricate task. 

  Intricate doesn’t even begin to describe what’s unfolded before them. With their niece's original design in mind and a few additions when they got to the store this is turning out to be better than some places they’ve slept while in the service. 

  Frankie is putting the finishing touches on the bug screen that he decided would be a good addition to the entryway for the balmy summer nights. Santi’s never felt so large while he sits on the wooden bench that doubles as a reading nook. The wood matching the same structure that he knows could withstand any storm or hurricane. The sun is setting, casting a shadow along the bright yellow carpet they found on clearance at the back of the home decor store. 

  The leftover Talavera tiles Santi had from his home remodel fit perfectly on the half that would be the makeshift kitchen. 

  There are three exits and two entries. The trap door with a knotted rope, the wooden plank stair steps and the slide that leads to the softest patch of grass in the yard. 

  Santiago’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of car doors slamming and children’s laughter. 

  “We should head down.” Frankie grunts as he shuffles over to the slide, reaching for his standard heating oil cap placed on the bench nook. 

  Santi raises his eyebrows at the man taking in the scene about to unfold. 

  “What? How else are we supposed to get down?” 

  “Oh I don’t know the stairs or the rope maybe?” He says sarcastically. “We don’t need you breaking the slide before they even get a chance.” 

  “Fuck you, this slide was built to withstand a hurricane.” 

  His nieces squeal from across the yard interrupts their fifth squabble of the day. 

  Frankie flashes him a wide grin. “Last man down has to ask their mom on a date.” 

  “What?!” 

  “Byeeee.” Frankie slides away, throwing him the middle finger on the way down. 

  Santi had already talked to him about this ad nauseam. It always felt like the wrong place at the wrong time. 

  He opened the latch to the trap door, opting to climb down to spare him the embarrassment of using a children’s slide in front of you. 

  ****

  You pulled up to the house at the exact same time as Will and Ben. You don’t remember the last time you’d felt this refreshed. Your hair and nails done, way too many bags piled in the backseat of Jenna’s car with a new wardrobe. It was exactly what you needed and a much needed conversation with another woman to reassure you that you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions about your love life. You shouldn’t feel guilty about moving on and doing what’s best for you and your children. 

  You half expected your kids to be happy to see you but they both gave you light hearted waves as they raced each other around the side of the house, leaving you in the driveway with Will and Ben with amused looks on their faces. 

  “What’s gotten into them?” You say as the boys shoot each other a look and Jenna takes your hand on hers to lead you around the house. 

  “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission right?” Ben says from behind you and now you’re really starting to worry. Your daughter's screech has you pulling away as you run into the backyard. 

  The sight you’re met with is one that completely knocks you off your feet. Your children are jumping up and down in front of a beaming Frankie and the largest tree house structure you’ve ever seen. This is something out of an outdoor life magazine. 

  You don’t realize you're frozen in place as the rest of the gang join him on the lawn. Santiago perhaps on purpose opted to make your life that much harder by effortlessly climbing down the rope ladder. In all the years he’s been out of the service the man still has an impeccable physique. You will your feet to move as you take in the thing that your kids have been asking you for since they could talk. The thing your husband didn’t make time for and the daunting task seemed impossible for you on your own. Paying someone was out of the question and you were too prideful to ask the boys to help you out anymore than they already did. 

  You don’t even realize you’re crying until Santiago approaches with the most worried look you’ve ever seen on his face. 

  “Look, I’m really sorry if we overstepped. I know we should’ve asked and it wasn’t our place…but the kids-“ 

  His ramblings are cut short when you throw yourself into him. He instinctively hugs you tight as he feels the wetness from your eyes soak into his shirt. 

  It’s embarrassing to admit how long it’s been since a man has held you and right now you can feel your resolve breaking as he soothingly rubs his hands down your back to calm your tears. 

  “I don’t know how to thank you Santi.” You mumble into his chest as you try to calm your beating heart. 

  It’s a moment before you break apart and he really gets a good look at you. Even with fresh tears in your eyes you look stunning. The most relaxed he’s seen you look in ages and just as beautiful as the day Tom introduced you to the boys. 

  With the group and the kids thoroughly distracted he figures now is as good a time as any. He’s far enough away that if you reject him he can slink out of the backyard and disappear to another country for three to six months while the shame dies down. 

  “Listen, I have to say something before I lose the courage to say it.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck as he focuses on some inanimate object behind you. “I understand if you’re not ready or you think this is highly inappropriate and in that case I’ll pretend this never happened.” 

  You can feel the hairs stand up on your arms and you dig your nails into your palm to keep from passing out at this very moment.

  “I know it’s wrong to say but I’ve always thought you and the kids deserved better. You know I loved him but it killed me to see the way he treated you and in another life perhaps I met you first and things would look a little different. I just can’t help but think maybe this can be a second chance and if you’re willing, I’d like to take you out sometime.” 

  The silence is deafening as you try to form words and Santi looks as though he wants to spontaneously combust at your lack of response. In all honesty you were never really good at flirting and now you’re spiraling because what do you say besides. 

  “Yes.” 

  He lets out a huge sigh of relief as he looks up at the sky thanking whoever is watching that he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself. 

  You both turn around to see Benny helping your son climb the rope and Frankie sliding down with your daughter in his lap as she claps her hands. Will and his wife made it inside at some point and they wave to you both from the large open window. 

  “It looks like I may be able to take you up on that offer tonight.” 

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I hope you're well :)

Would you so kindly be able to do an Emily Prentiss x victim child!reader where reader is kind of young, maybe like between 6-10 and they've been held captive by the UnSub for weeks now and when the team finally finds the location, reader has gone mute and very cautious/scared of everyone and only allows (to an extent) Emily near them? Since she's the one who first finds them? Emily is very patient and comforts reader even if they don't speak and such. But reader eventually becomes comfortable enough to speak again, using short sentences and few words with Emily (maybe even some other team members, too).

Emily could possibly take them in but that part can be up to you!

I can't wait to see more of your work btw, you're so good!! Thx! Xoxo 💘

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topics of abuse, trauma, child neglecting, punishments and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: I have tried my best to accommodate this request. I have to say that I changed the request a little because I didn't want to write a 6 year old child being kidnapped by a stranger, so I just had to do it with the father who has a criminal record. I also had to shorten it and basically skip a period of time in order to fulfill the second part of the request. I hope it is still okay. Also had to split it into two parts, Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

Walls. Excessive tightness.

You did not know how long you had been in that closet, and you did not want to know either. Far too exhausted from all the panic attacks and the walls threatening to crush you. Your stomach was growling like it had been ever since your father decided to punish you for everything you did.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were glassy, but you were long past crying. That only made things worse. Your father knew no mercy, and certainly not for his scared and crying little daughter.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if you actually suffocated in that closet. Better to suffocate from the reducing air than to be suffocated by your own father. You would not grow old, you would not reach the age of 10. You were sure of that. You were convinced that something would happen to you before your next birthday. But so far you had gotten older every year and every birthday you were sure that it would be your last.

Your father would not let you sleep in your bed anymore, but at least today it was in the closet and not in the gazebo that you had to sleep in. It was late autumn and in the arbor, the roof of which had tiny holes, there was a risk of hypothermia and finally freezing to death. Your hand, which was squeezed between the closet door and your thigh, had now fallen asleep and despite your constant shaking, you felt immensely hot. You noticed your face starting to glow again- you had a fever from the cold that blew through the room at night. You carefully pulled your hand out from under your leg, hitting your head on one of the wooden insert panels of the shelves, causing a dull thud as it came loose and fell onto your body.

Your heart skipped a beat before stopping briefly, you squinted for a moment, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed and that your father had disappeared from his guarding position in front of the closet and was downstairs in front of the TV. But then you heard footsteps, quiet and muffled through the ajar door and the wood that surrounded you. It sounded nothing like your father and his firm, jagged steps and you begged that you had not misheard and were now in for a lot of trouble.

The door creaked and your breathing became increasingly quicker. You did not mishear. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and prepare yourself for what was to come. If your father saw you so upset, he might keep you here longer or deny you food for the next few days.

The key turned in the lock that locked the two doors together and you heard them slowly open, but did not dare to look outside. The fear of provoking your father when you greedily gasped for fresh air and light was too great. You felt a slight breeze on your bare shoulders and cheeks. Still, you kept your eyes closed, hoping to avoid your fate.

Instead of your father's disapproving shouts and rough hands that would normally drag you out of the closet, there was only a careful, barely noticeable touch on your shoulder. When you raised your eyes, you saw a strange woman with black hair. "Hey, sweetie. I am from the police, you are safe now," the older woman's eyes were glassy. She seemed unsettled, as if she was afraid of breaking you with one wrong move, as if you were made of delicate mass. "You can come out now, your father can not hurt you anymore."

You nodded and a few moments later she had pulled you out of the closet, carefully and slowly so as not to hurt you, and immediately drawn you into her arms. You just let it happen, completely unable to understand that this was a foreign woman you were clinging to.

Your father had forbidden you from speaking to strangers and your fear of upsetting your dad was huge. But something about her voice made you give in. "I am Emily. What is your name?" she asked and rubbed your back soothingly, your courage to speak failing you. When the rest of her team stormed into the room a moment later and looked down at you in front of the open door, you panicked and shook yourself away from her before returning to the closet where you felt safe.

A hand signal directed to Derek and Hotch, they disappeared silently from the bare room with the remaining SWAT workers and left her alone with you. It took some time for you to gain confidence and crawl out of the wooden wardrobe again. The young woman had talked her head off with various topics in order to give you a feeling of reassurance.

You followed Emily's hand movements carefully, and at the sight of the little package of gummy bears, your mouth watered and your stomach began to make itself known. "Someone is really hungry!" She whispered and smiled softly before opening the small package and holding it out to you.

You carefully sat up, occasionally glancing at the door so that you could move back into the closet as quickly as possible in case of an emergency. But nothing happened. The black-haired woman pointed uncertainly but grinning at the package. "The green ones are my favorite. And what are yours?" you rummaged through the tiny package with your fingers until you held a red gummy bear between your fingers and showed it to her. "The red ones? Uhh, they are yummy!"

You jumped away while the first bite, she had raised her hand too quickly. She shook her head, swallowing hard. Emily had not thought for a split second. “Can I feel your forehead?”she asked after a short hesitation and you nodded, afraid of upsetting her like your father, granting her permission.

She gently placed her hand on your sweat-covered forehead. You were feverish. She slowly lowered her hand carefully again and watched you as you hesitantly gnawed on a gummy bear. Your father did not like it when you just wolfed down your food and often had taken it away when fell into a deep hunger.

Emily continued to watch you, her eyes sad and exhausted. You cocked your head, wondering if you had done something wrong. When your eyes met for a moment, you hesitantly reached for her free hand and placed her favorite gummy bear in her palm.

You found a kind of care and hope in her presence. Hope that you can still lead a normal life and never be locked in the closet by your father again. Emily caught the very first smile you gave her before you stood up and carefully fell into her arms. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she giggled softly, her heart swelling and beginning to pound wildly.

"No,"

Surprisingly, she widened her eyes while keeping her mouth wide open. After hours spent in this cold room with only forensics downstairs doing their work, she had finally managed to hear your gentle and childlike voice.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter two

well it's love, make it hurt series

two: watch you hang on every word

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: The Mandalorian teases you on a hunt, and you get your revenge.

Warnings: established d/s relationship but only undertones present here, dirty talk, teasing, bounty hunting, reference to alcohol, mild canon-typical violence, sometimes reader can have a turn being a menace as a treat

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 11: Exhibitionism/Teasing, inspired by @absurdthirst’s Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on ao3

3 ABY - Summer

“Got eyes on the quarry yet?” you murmur into your drink, taking a tiny sip to keep up appearances. The cantina is a small, but airy, wooden dome. The heavy tarps had been rolled up to let the breeze through the windows, unfortunately also allowing the swollen afternoon sun to shine in right in your line of sight, unable to see more than black shapes at the entrance.

“No, but I’ve got eyes on something else,” Mando says from on the roof across the path, sniper rifle poised and the sun at his back.

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he had a good enough view of your profile to catch the movement.

It was your third day staking out the target's alleged watering hole, and coming back another day would be pushing it. Nobody stayed here for long without a reason, and you were running out of them. It was bad enough that you’d had to actually make notes about the local flora to keep up appearances.

“This is, like, my least sexy disguise,” you say. It was also one of your usuals. Nerds, as it turned out, were on the same page as hunters about practical clothing with plenty of storage. You had the requisites for your cover: binocs, glass tubes, tissue samples from various bushes and sprouts, small clippers, and an assortment of tools for gathering specimen. The less obvious pockets had explosives, a switchblade, smoke grenades, and more.

The rusty orange vest and dark olive shirt hung loose enough around your torso to conceal the blaster tucked into your waistband. A commlink is nestled in the ear facing the wall, behind a curtain of your hair.

“I don’t know,” he muses. “Those shorts are pretty short.”

“What has gotten into you today?” You already know the answer. You don’t fuck on hunts, too wary of getting distracted. But the two bounties before this were on the same planet, and now it’s been over a week since you had touched him. And maybe you had left the fresher door open this morning, hoping he would come in, but he didn’t.

He definitely watched, though.

You, at least, had your drink and your datapad. He had nothing to do but watch, and his mind kept replaying filthy memories from between your thighs.

“Like you aren’t thinking about it too,” he says, voice low and rumbling. “I bet you’re starting to soak through those little shorts.”

You don’t respond, swirling the drink idly in the cup and trying to focus on the botanical database.

“I can see your nipples through your shirt, cyar’ika,” he says. “Is it cold in there?”

“Shut up,” you groan. Every time you responded, you had to take a little sip as a cover. At this rate, you were going to end up actually getting drunk.

“So you’re not thinking about what I’m going to do to you when we get back to the Crest?”

“No, I’m thinking about getting off this damp ass pit of a planet.”

“Hmm. That’s too bad.” He wasn’t actually lingering on you through the scope. He was doing his job, keeping watch, and fastidiously ignoring his half-hard cock. “I was going to help myself to something sweet before we left.”

You cursed through gritted teeth. “Behave,” you hiss.

“That’s my line.”

You could hear the smirk through the crackle of the commlink, so you stretch a hand up to scratch the back of your head, middle finger extended.

He laughs, and even through the double distortion of his helmet and the line, it makes you smile.

“Hey, shit, here—” he cuts off, static buzzing.

Your smile wilts as fast as it had sprouted, but you hold your body in the relaxed slouch over the datapad, still idly twirling the cocktail in one hand and annotating something in meaningless shorthand.

The line clicks twice, and you move to stand. Another being comes around the corner of your booth, and you stumble right into them, knocking the violently green remains of your drink over their tan shawl.

“What the hell?” they begin to unwrap it from their neck.

“I’m so sorry, here; please, let me help,” you tell the tall Pantoran woman. You reach for your little napkin on the table and grab for her shawl with the other, tugging her to you with it. The hand that went for the napkin comes back with a blaster, pressed between her shoulder blades where the shawl hung down.

She freezes.

“C’mon, let’s go,” you murmur in her ear.

She turns her head side to side, looking with pleading eyes to see if any of the other patrons had noticed her predicament. If they do, they know better than to care.

“I can pay.” She still isn’t moving.

You nudge her with the nose of the blaster. “Outside.”

In the alley behind the cantina, Mando leans casually against a wall. He has one leg bent, foot against the wall, arms crossed. “Took you long enough,” he says when you shove the bounty toward him.

She stumbles and screams when she sees him.

You cover her mouth with your hand, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a big, scary Mandalorian. Shut up about it.”

Mando forces her arms behind her back and claps the binders on tight, magnetizing them to the side of a stack of crates.

“What’re you doing?” You try to ask, but he crowds you against the wall in seconds, gloved hands running down your sides.

“Need you,” he huffs.

“Are you kriffing kidding me?” the quarry yells.

Mando puts one hand on the holster facing her, and she falls silent.

“C’mon, baby, please.”

You go to push him off and roll your eyes, but at the last minute, decide to wrap your fingers into the cowl of his cape instead. “You need me now, huh? Got yourself worked up?”

He squeezes your waist in warning, but lets you move him so your positions were switched. Well. He cooperates when you tug on his cowl. You aren’t stupid enough to think you could actually move him when he was in full beskar. He was like a broken repulsortank.

His head falls back against the wall when you sink down to your knees in the filthy alley. The quarry tries very hard to look anywhere else. You palm him through his trousers, and he groans, clenching a gloved hand in your hair.

You nuzzle your face against him, pressing kisses through the fabric. He reaches down to pull his cock out, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and use it to pull yourself to your feet.

“Where’re you going, sweetheart?” He tries to pull you closer, and you duck out of his reach, laughing.

“We’re on a job, Mando, where do you think I’m going?” You call over your shoulder, already walking out of the alley and leaving him to grab the woman.

“Gonna pay for that,” he warn.

You spin around and grin. “No, I’m not. We’re not home, sweetheart.”

You turn and keep going, missing the way he stops for a moment, jerking the bounty in the process.

Home. It rings in his head, ricocheting off the helmet and his boner-addled brain.

“Should have just shot me. Then I wouldn’t have had to see that,” the bounty grumbles.

He snaps, “Shut up,” and gives her a harsh shove forward, following your leisurely path back to the Crest.

*title from "Sink Into Me" by Taking Back Sunday

[symphonic-scream]

Okay. P4 Apocalypse Au

Spoilers for P4! SPECIFICALLY LIKE. ENDGAME SHIT. LIKE NOVEMBER AND STUFF

Okay that's out of the way

Let's get into it

Plot summary first then any notes I've sent to my buddy Cap. Cause that poor guy is suffering through my ADHD meds shortage

Okay. Okay. Let's go.

It's. Based on the bits about the Inaba in the TV. With the "shadows" coming out of everywhere, the town in ruins

The gang and any Inaba survivors holed up in the school, since it has a gate. They reinforced it. Barred access to the roof as a precaution. The black puddles don't take shape unless you run into them, but. They can't be certain

The windows in the classrooms are always shut. It's clear inside, but every time the door opens, dense fog leaks in

Everyone's scuffed up. Looking worse for wear

They make trips out, in groups. Most of the time? The groups make it back. They see remains of unfortunate people all the time now. Strung in the wires, dead on the ground, etc

They've stocked up on stuff from Junes. It wasn't save to stay when the power left, but the school is old enough

So mainly it's Junes runs, for nonperishable foods. There's plants growing in the practice building, where they cook meals and such

Each classroom is a sleeping quarters now. Sometimes, people notice others going between the rooms at night for comfort. They say nothing

On their first excursion, Yu, Chie, Yosuke, and Yukiko find Teddie in Junes, banishing a shadow somehow. The gang wants to know how he killed it for good, since their weapons barely Nick them. They take Teddie back with them, partially as extra hands to carry more goods back

Teddie can, grant them the blessings of Light on their weapons for limited times. They can finally kill the shadows, but only by engaging in actual combat. It's dangerous. But, to save everyone, they decide to do it.

So, they start midnight secret kill runs. To rid the town of shadows. When their families think they're asleep, they go to scavenge for upgrades and kills

They save Kanji soon after. Find him holed up in his house, struggling to keep his Ma alive

They offer to carry her back, but he wants more. To kill the things that nearly took her. They let Kanji join in

Then, they find Rise. She's running down the road, definitely on her last ounce of strength, being chased. She's run halfway from the city, when her manager's car broke down and was overrun. She's. In dire need of help

Rise can see through the fog, and offers to be their eyes from above. They sneak her up to the roof at night, with a walkie and binoculars.

She tells them what's around them, which streets are overrun vs nearly empty

Then, Naoto.

The government tries to send a police brigade to help but. They get seiged. Naoto had been brought along to get him out of the hair of the city cops. Under the excuse that he'd be smart enough to save Inaba

So. He watches everyone around him fall and he's got just his gun, climbing into a tree near the Samegawa and shooting, until he's got nothing left

Tears fall down his face as they bang at the base of the tree. In the end, he's still just a kid,

The others rush out. Drive the hoard away, and get Naoto into the school. He's shaken up, won't talk for a week. But, hes determined to help. He thinks there might be something that can help at the Shirogane estate and guides them through the labyrinth of a building

To the secret lab beneath. Naoto offers to run tests on what they find and stuff to find answers

So. Some nights they kill, some nights they take Naoto to the estate for tests

Rise goes with them to the estate. She wanders through the old rooms and finds an old cat doll under Naoto's bed. She surprises him with it that night when they return to the school

Okay. Splitting here! Extra under the cut!

You can talk to me about this or any au I have I'm always around :)

There's one room in the school that most people pity. The room for those without family. Rise, Kanji, Naoto, etc

Naoto likes to lie down under the teachers desk. Rise lies down just outside it, watching Naoto slowly breathe at night

Kanji sleeps right nearby to protect them both.

Yu and Yosuke's families are in the same room. Yukiko and Chie's are nextdoor

Chie's stupid dog is also there, he's kept in the gym with the other pets

Naoto sometimes keeps Rise company on the roof. The gang find him a sniper rifle from the site of the cops deaths. He cleans it with extreme care, and lies down in position, his elbow just beside Rise's leg, so they can feel the warmth

Rise: they're going to need assistance, Naokun. Three clicks up, ten left from position J

Naoto: affirmative.

Naoto can't see where he's shooting. He trusts Rise's instructions and shoots just as she instructs.

She's never guided him wrong

One night in the lab, Naoto gets frustrated. He's getting nowhere it seems, and he throws his goggles, crying in frustration as he tries to get his labcoat off

Rise is the only one still in the lab, and she tries to calm him down, but. He's shouting and won't listen, so

She just kisses him to shut him up

Naoto freezes and stares.

Rise pulls away, tears forming in her own eyes. Stares.

They crash together, Naoto walking Rise back until she's sitting on one of the desks, hands in his hair, one of his near her knee, the other wrapped around her waist

They make out. It's, sloppy. Emotional. Not the greatest

That night they both sleep under the desk. They don't talk about it. But Rise feels safer in his arms. Naoto doesn't feel so cold and alone with her

Rise sometimes shivers up on the roof in the fog. Naoto's jacket is often thrown around her shoulders

Naoto: I. Don't mind being me so much when it's with you. I, I'm not quite a boy. Not quite a girl. But. I feel I don't need an answer when it's just me and you

Rise: that's cause you don't. We're just Naoto and Rise. Whoever they may be

--

Yosuke: yo Rise how's that chick we saved?

Rise: Naoto wants to be called 'he' for now

Yosuke: what

Kanji: YEAH. HER PRONOUNS ARE HE THEY BUT JUST CALL HIM A DUDE

Naoto looks so small behind the two of them, still bandaged up and unable to bind in his condition

Naoto: Kanji? Rise? I require assistance getting back to my futon,

Kanji: on it, little man. Let's get you to bed

Rise: rest time! You won't recover if you push yourself!

Yosuke: what just happened

Yu: another dude joins our team

--

Naoto's first time at the estate and he goes to his bedroom and finds his first binder

"Shoot... It's too small now,,"

"Hey, uh, I can make ya a new one. If I can find the material."

"...thanks Kanji, that means a lot"

They don't have clothes that fit Naoto for a while. They take some of his father's old stuff back from the estate and Kanji has to hem them all so Naoto doesn't look like a child playing dress up

Rise: there, all handsome

Kanji: does that uh, liner fit? I wasn't sure with the pattern, but-

Naoto: it's very comfortable, thank you Kanji. I feel much better in these clothes,

Rise: you look much better too

Naoto: a-ah. Thank you

--

Kanji: yo, you two cuddling?

Rise: Kanji! Leave us alone, can't you see we're having a moment?

Naoto: do you, want to join?

Kanji: yeah. I like keeping you two safe. I'll block out the world for a bit.

Rise: ...you can be pretty okay sometimes

Kanji: yeah yeah. Huddle in, Ma tells me I'm warm as shit

Naoto, his girlfriend, and the guy that also cuddles with them at night without being romantically involved

Their platonic buddy that keeps the world away when they're all sleeping. The big safety Teddie bear

--

Kanji's always in the infirmary checking on his Ma. Rise stares at the old fire alarms, occasionally pulling them and pouting when no alarm sounds. Naoto bunkers down in the library, between big hefty chemistry textbooks, town legends, and biology

Naoto: Rise.

Rise: ah! Hi, what's up? Missed me that much~?

Naoto: come with me to the library if possible. I find, it easier to focus when I know you're safe

Rise: hey. I'm not going anywhere, you hear? I'm making it out to see the sunshine again, to be able to go to the beach with everyone and relax. We all promised.

Naoto: I know...

Rise: so?

Naoto: but, I care for you more than I've cared for anyone in a long time... It would be easy on my own. If I failed, only I would suffer. But knowing your life is on the line-

Rise: it's not all resting on you. If you don't find a solution, the others will kill them all. We've witnessed less and less since we started. That's proof! We just have to keep pushing

Naoto: right. Right. As long as I've got you to keep me from falling into my head, we can't lose

Rise: *giggling* that's right! Now, you wanted to read? Hope you won't mind me sneaking in some kisses~

--

Naoto always has dark circles under his eyes. He looks almost gastly the day after trips to the estate. Pale, tired, trudging to the library, having to be dragged to meals

Rise always looks. Hollow. She can see through the fog, and. She doesn't see it as anything but a curse

She likes to dote on Naoto. It gives her a daily purpose. And fuck, Naoto needs it. Someone to take care of him for once,

--

Rise: WHERES NAOTO

Yu: is he not in the library?

Kanji: NO, HE ISNT, OTHERWISE WE WOULDNT BE FUKCING LOSING IT TRYNA FIND HIM!

Chie: I saw him an hour ago with that detective guy, Adachi? They went out to talk in the yard...

Yukiko: but I saw Adachi a minute ago, walking back in alone?

Yosuke: you dont mean...

Rise: IF NAOTO'S OUT THERE ALONE, WE NEED TO FIND HIM

Adachi told Naoto Nanako ran away to find her mom.

Adachi had knocked out Nanako and out her in the old Dojima house. He knows Naoto is close to the truth and is trying to get rid of him and make Dojima useless

The others rush through town, finding Naoto's hat and ripped jacket on the way. And blood

They find him inside the Dojima house, holding his sleeve to his gut, slowly bleeding as he shoots the shadows back. Nanako lies in the room behind him, safe but still out

Naoto: you, you came?

Yu: Adachi tricked you. For some reason, he wanted you dead

Naoto: that, bastard,

Kanji: quick, we need to get him and Nanako back before he bleeds out. Or worse, Rise has a heart attack

Naoto: Rise,, tell her, I'm sorry,

Yosuke: TELL HER YOURSELF COWARD, YOU'RE MAKJNG IT THROUGH THIS

Naoto is out for two weeks. Nanako is back at it after a few days. Yu grabbed Dojimas handcuffs as they left the house and they've kept Adachi chained to a bar ever since

Naoto wakes slowly. Pale, anemic still, dizzy. Rise is resting her head on his belly. Kanji is asleep in the visitor chair. The others are scattered around the room

Naoto: owe,

Rise: you stupid idiot,

Naoto: is Nanako okay?

Dojima enters the room and just. Thanks Naoto. So sincerely. But also calls him stupid

--

Rise: you're so smart,,

Naoto: we are making out. Is this, what they call the "sensual speak?"

Rise: no I'm complimenting you. Ugh, forget it. Kiss me again

Naoto: I need to work, Rise,

Rise: push me away then

Naoto:

Rise: that's what I thought. The fog will still be there the next time we come here, but we're both herw right now...

Naoto: not too much, the others are still in the estate somewhere, Rise -

Rise just keeps kissing them, and kissing them, and kissing them-

--

Rise: hey. Once everyone's asleep tomorrow, meet me at the old sewing room in the practice building. It's where they keep the spare futons

Naoto: why

Rise: I think you can guess why

Naoto: what

Rise: *wink* special alone time,,

Naoto: ...WAIT DO YOU MEAN SEX

Rise; you're so dense for someone so smart,

Naoto: uhm- I er-

Rise; we don't have to. But. I do want some time with just me and you, no chance of interruptions or the smell of chemicals

The morning they wake up in the sewing room, Naoto feels. Rested. His whole body feels, like he rested on clouds. The triple stack of futons probably helped

But he looks down and sees Rise's messy hair, her peaceful, sleeping face, pressed into his shoulder. He can feel her just. Wrapped around him all tight, hugging him in her sleep. He carefully moves her bangs aside, smiling at the little pout on her lips as sleep starts to fade

"Naokun,,"

"Hey, morning. Sleep well?"

"Mmmm, the best~"

"we need to get up soon, before someone finds us here."

"Mm, but I wanna rest some more,, can we go sleep under our desk some more?"

"I suppose it won't hurt. Now come on, let's find our clothes"

Rise swipes the button up Naoto had been wearing. Does up just enough buttons to be passable

Naoto: ...oh god your neck,

Rise: I wanna show it off! You're quite passionate

Naoto: let's hurry back before someone sees us,

Kanji is still asleep when they slip under the desk. Rise cuddles right back into Naoto, falling asleep almost immediately

He lies there for a bit, just watching her

--

Rise: you're stronger now than when we first rescued you... You were like a twig then

Naoto: thanks, I think

Rise remembers seeing, from the rooftop, the shaking little body in the tree. She can't believe it's the same guy that's curled up with her now, making that spot under the desk feel like the safest place in the universe

She remembers sitting at his bedside, spoon feeding him soup and vitamins when he could barely sit up himself

The hollow, dead look on those blue eyes

Rise: hey there, you're awake! You had us scared for a moment there! What's your name?

Naoto: I'm. Naoto Shirogane.

Rise: huh, that sounds like a guys name!

Naoto: I. I'd prefer to be addressed, as such.

Rise: huh? But- ...I don't understand it, but if it's what you want, I'll follow. So. You're a guy?

Naoto: maybe. I'm, not sure.

Rise: ...that makes two of us. A-anyways! More people will wanna talk to you later, rest up Naoto!

--

Naoto lying on the roof in sniper position, listening to Rise hum. He can't see anything through the sights but blurry fog. She can see the Horrors of what's beyond the school gates, so she reaches over. Pulls his hat off to play with his hair

Naoto: Rise?

Rise: please. I'll give it back if you need to take a shot. Just. Let me-

Naoto pushes himself up to give her a sound kiss

"Hey. You're doing great, being the strong one sucks I know. But you can use me to hold you up. Figuratively."

[scoops-aboy86]

lurker here♠️♥️ had another idea?!? you know sometimes you have those random dreams; Eddie (or Steve! but I do love chunky eddie) has a weird dream where some fairy offers to grant his deepest desire and him being a shithead says "I wish I was happy and fat like Santa claus" or something about him just being fat and she grants it and in the dream he actually becomes fat. He wakes up thinking "what a weird dream" but realizes all the weight he gained in the dream was real and the man wakes up with 50+ pounds padded onto his waist

Love it, dream sequences are so fun! There’s so much room for strange and possibly unsettling or confusing things to happen without anyone blinking an eye.

(also on ao3)

Eddie is in his and Wayne’s old trailer, only it looks more like the inside of their new, government payout funded bungalow and the fleshy hole in the roof admits a rope-slash-staircase that leads up into Steven’s house from the basement. 

This is perfectly normal. 

He climbs the stairs and emerges into the living room (not where those stairs actually lead, but it’s fine). It’s crowded with people because Steve is throwing a party, but the music is at least good; it’s the mix tape he made for Steve last week and hasn’t given to him yet. 

There’s a girl in the crowd that he keeps noticing out of the corners of his eye. She’s a dead ringer for Chrissy Cunningham, but that’s probably just a coincidence. Still, she makes him uneasy, so he retreats to the upstairs landing and smokes a joint over the throng of dancing, drinking teenagers outside of Steve’s room. (He wanted to go in, but the door was locked. He’s contemplating crawling out the bathroom window onto the roof and around to Steve’s window, get in that way.)

“Hey Eddie,” Not-Chrissy says behind him. He wheels around, clutching a hand to his chest with the joint still clamped between his lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”

He frowns. “You do?”

Nodding, she smiles. “Yeah, because I owe you one.” (There are streaks of dried blood down her cheeks, her eyes sunken, skin veined unnaturally with black. For a second, it looks like she has the skeletal wings of the demon bats that almost ate him alive last year.) “And being queen of the Upside Down comes with a lot better perks than Hawkins High. What, Eddie Munson, is your deepest desire?”

He takes a long hit that he can’t really taste and blows it out in a wispy, billowing cloud. “To grow fat and happy with my boyfriend, live happily ever after and all that shit. Why?”

She tilts her head to one side. “Huh. I was expecting the rockstar thing, but yeah, I can do that.” Then she reaches out and touches his hand, and her fingers are ice cold. “He’s downstairs, in the kitchen. You should go find him.”

Eddie nods and heads downstairs, relieved for the excuse to get away. The girl seems sweet and all but there’s something about her that sets the hairs in the back of his neck on end. Something about the way her limbs bend, or all the vines. 

The music downstairs has changed from the mix tape to something mellow, low. Most of the guests have cleared out, just a few still hanging around—Robin, of course, talking to that girl she likes that Eddie hasn’t met yet. They look so happy, he doesn’t want to disturb them. 

In the kitchen, Steve has clearly been hard at work. There’s food on every available surface and he’s just pulling an entire cheesecake out of the oven. 

“Eddie,” he calls, beaming as soon as he notices him. “Come here, I made a few things for you. Gotta eat up before you get hungry—that’s the sort of thing that’ll eat you alive.”

Eddie is about to ask what Steve means, but something takes off from his shoulder with a beating of fleshy wings and suddenly he’s starving. The nearest plate is piled with delicate pastries that look like something out of a magazine he flipped through at a checkout stand once. His mouth waters; he takes one. 

It’s heaven on his tongue. Before he’s even finished chewing he’s reaching for another. Steve comes to stand beside him, kissing his cheek and nuzzles into his hair the way Eddie loves, whispering encouragement into his ear. 

Eddie clears the plate and moves on to the next dish, spaghetti in a red meat sauce, and by the time he realizes there’s no fork in sight he’s already reaching for the bowl. He dips his fingers in, brings a clump of pasta to his mouth , and moans at the taste—rich and savory and good. The ends of the spaghetti dangle down his chin, leaving trails of sauce that drip down onto his shirt. Aware that simply slurping them up will leave more sauce on his lips than on his taste buds, he opens wide and shoves the rest of it in with his hands with a muffled moan. 

It doesn’t take long to finish the bowl, drinking greedily between bites from a cup of milk that seems thicker than usual, rich and creamy sliding down his throat in a way that sends a tingle through his entire body. Next is a plate of garlic bread, clearly an entire loaf; it’s gone before he can even try to register how much he’s eaten already. 

Eddie glances at Steve, but his boyfriend nods encouragingly and refills his glass. “Eat up. I made it all for you, baby.”

So he does. Powers through the garlic bread, then a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that’s practically oozing with raspberry jam (his favorite), then mashed potatoes with a puddle of melted butter on top, then fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, ambrosia salad, chicken parm… He loses track after that, too much variety but it’s all so good. He’s humming appreciatively through mouthfuls while chewing and swallowing as fast as he can so he can have more, blown away by the tastes and the textures and the love that he can taste in everything Steve has prepared. Steve alternates between refilling his glass, taking the empty dishes away so he can place full ones nearby, and rubbing soothingly, encouragingly at Eddie’s shoulders and belly. 

By the time it’s almost all gone, Eddie feels heavy. His hands are still occupied, unwilling to let his mouth go empty for more than a second or two at a time if at all, so it’s Steve who reaches down and wrestles with the button on his jeans, pulling on the fabric just hard enough over his taut belly that Eddie moans, and then free—rounded gut making quick work of pushing the zipper down, and Steve reverently lifting his belly with both hands to ease it out to spread over his lap (when did he sit down?). It makes Eddie giggle through a full mouth of food, so much that his cheeks are bulging and he’s breathing heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t feel full, just… There’s pressure, a warm tingling in his skin that keeps rolling over him in waves. It stops whenever he’s not chewing or swallowing, so he keeps going, needing more. 

He isn’t sure when Steve started moving dishes from the counter to the floor for him, doesn’t care. Partygoers wander through occasionally, but he doesn’t really notice beyond a vague awareness that Steve snaps at anyone who tries to touch the food, that’s for Eddie, jesus, if you can’t follow the house rules then get out. Robin drifts by, asks Steve how it’s going and Steve answers to the tune of really well Robs and gives Eddie’s belly a proprietary pat where it’s peeking out of his shirt so far that his navel is exposed. The touch, the praise, and the warmth in his voice makes Eddie glow from the inside out, makes him want to eat more to show Steve just how good he can be. Focusing isn’t usually his strong point, outside of guitar or DnD, but it’s like everything else in the world has dropped away. 

And then his reaching hands find nothing. All the plates are empty, and suddenly awareness hits him like a shock of electricity. 

He’s so stuffed he can barely breathe. Every exhale is a grown or a soft oh has his hands caressed over his tight, round belly, trying to ease that intoxicating ache. Any second, he thinks, he might explode… and isn’t that what he deserves? For eating so much, for overindulging, for chasing the satisfaction of pushing the limit until he could pop? For getting off on it? His dick is even harder than his packed gut, and still he tries to search out more with a desperate whine. 

Because he still wants. He's out of control, has no idea how long he’s been eating. With every move, every breath, every swallow, he feels his skin stretching. But he needs to keep going. Needs more. Can’t stand to let this feeling end—and probably can’t stand anymore, either. 

Steve stands over him, but Eddie’s eyes are fixed longingly on the edge of the counter, beyond which hides his heaven on earth. “What is it, baby?”

“Full,” he whimpers. “Need more.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve soothes, crouching to cup Eddie’s slightly sticky cheek. “I’ve got more, baby. You want it?”

“Need it,” Eddie whines again, and barely a few seconds later Steve sets the cheesecake he’d made down right in front of Eddie. 

All of it. Right there on the floor in front of him, just far away enough that he could… 

Grunting, Eddie lurches hard enough (on the second try) to lean forward, land on his hands, and roll onto his knees and just. Lick up a big dollop of the glistening, sticky-red cherry topping with a groan of relief. 

So good to have his mouth full again, even if it had only been a minute at most. 

He drops onto his elbows and dives right in, face-first and ravenous, heedless of the way Steve hastily reaches down and gather his long hair up into a messy bun before it can become caked in cake.  He doesn’t care, because this is the fastest way, so close to his outer limit and getting closer with each messy gulp, he needs it. Panting between bites but never quite stopping to fill his lungs because he can’t stop. Doesn’t want to. Would never. 

Pleasure is building up within him like the hum before a lightning storm, and he’s aware of Steve’s warm palms roving over his sides, squeezing, jiggling, testing where he’s grown more sensitive. Sometimes the graze of fingertips over his bare, stretched skin makes him shiver, makes him moan right into his dessert without pausing—speeding up, even. Building higher and higher and he feels so tight, ready to pop, holding himself together at the seams just long enough to finish, and—

His breathing is ragged as he licks the last smears and crumbs off the serving dish, crying out when Steve abruptly tugs him back onto his ass by the back of his shirt and a hand on his tied up hair, and holds a carton to his lips. Gulping it down without hesitation or question, Eddie brings his shaking hands up to feel the container, big enough to hold an entire gallon but it’s near empty, the last rush of it trickling down his chin and throat and settling into the last gaps inside his heaving belly, so swollen and streaked with red lines. 

(It’s only a trick of the light that some of them briefly flicker and wriggle and seem edged with black; and anyway, he can’t know that, even though he pictures it clearly enough, because his eyes have fallen closed. Also in the absolute certainty that comes with dreams, he now knows it’s not milk but heavy cream.)

He breaks away with a wet, muffled burp, gotta have more of that. It feels like he’s gained fifty pounds in one sitting—which is impossible, but. 

“Fuu-uck,” Eddie groans, wraps his arms around his widest point as best he can, belly thrumming with an exquisite ache. His boyfriend’s arms join his, kneeling next to him from the side, speckling his face and neck with little kisses, tasting the mess he’s made of himself. “God, Steve, ‘s so good. Full. Big…” Then he squeezes, rocking his hips weakly up into his own overspilling bulk, and busts a nut so hard his brain fizzles, toes curl, mouth opens in a wail so loud it echoes all the way through to the other dimension beneath Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Eds, baby, Eddie, wake up—”

Eddie jerks awake with a snort, a cry still half on his lips. He’s overheated, wrapped up uncomfortably in the sheets, and he’s surprised by how much of a struggle it is to sit up. As he grunts with the effort of trying, Steve is already reaching over to help.

“Hang on, let me… Are you okay? You were screaming.”

They’ve been sharing a bed and helping each other through the aftermath of nightmares for longer than they’ve been together—and it’s not as though Eddie hasn't had a wet dream about Steve before, but not usually at the same time. Eddie feels his face heat. Wisps of the best orgasm he’s ever had still cling to him, dulling his embarrassment a bit, but his boxers are already clinging uncomfortably and the squelch of cooling come in there doesn’t add anything positive to the sensation. “Not exactly a nightmare, Steve…”

But Steve is distracted by something, shifting in his position of spooning Eddie to propping himself up on one elbow to look, even though the room is still dark. 

“Did you get an extra pillow or something?” he mumbles, still half asleep and sounding it now that he’s registered Eddie’s lack of panic. (He doesn’t wake up gracefully, Eddie’s Steve, for all that he seems to during an emergency. The guy could leap out of bed, club a demodog to death with his bat full of nails, and then be back to snoring under the blankets within minutes of washing his hands of it.)

For a second, Eddie stupidly just thinks, did I? But he can feel Steve’s hand on his skin, which… seems to have more give than he’s used to. 

Wait.

With a wiggle and a grunt, Eddie brings his own hands into the equation, feeling over himself. FInds the familiar soft fabric of one of the worn-holey shirts he typically wears to bed stretched tight, his boxers straining, and realizes that it’s not the sheets he feels strangle-held by. His belly swells out in front of him, and the way Steve is pawing at it in drowsy confusion is making him wobble. He has love handles. It’s… everything he’s ever wanted, but never had the budget or the luxury of being able to achieve.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. Just like in his dream, it’s like he’s suddenly gained fifty pounds or something. 

Steve’s questing fingers find his navel, a few of them dipping clumsily into his suddenly very sensitive belly button, and Eddie moans. He can feel the press of Steve’s rousing cock against his now plush ass and automatically rocks back against it, eliciting an answering moan. “Eds, fuck, you’re—”

“Bigger,” Eddie finishes, still rocking, still feeling himself all over, whimpering a little when he gets to where the tortured elastic of his boxers has rolled down to accommodate his swollen gut. Not even full, just fucking huge. He’s just like this now, apparently, which should be concerning but for now it’s just winding him up to come all over again as he feels over stretch marks and giddily jiggles himself. “I had the strangest dream…”

“If it’s the one where you ate everything in the house during a party, I had that one too.” Steve removes his fingers only to slap at Eddie’s belly, warming the skin and then squeezing, testing the give, panting in his ear. “I made so much food for you and you took it all so good, baby. Everyone saw, got to show off how well I take care of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants back, his entire body lighting up at the words and treatment, something he’s never been able to explore outside of fantasies before. 

Tomorrow, when he’s thinking more clearly—when they both are, they’ll worry about comparing details and realizing that they both had the same dream, that they both saw Chrissy and answered honestly when asked their deepest desire. It’ll spark new concerns about the Upside Down and whether things are really over, if Chrissy can be saved somehow, if the other victims are alive too. The troops will have to mobilize, at least, to check one more time that Vecna is thoroughly dead and dusted.

But for now, Steve takes care of him. Clambers up and rolls Eddie onto his back, too-tight shirt pushed up to his armpits so Steve can suck on his one remaining nipple, kiss down his soft chest and belly, shove the swell of new fat up and out of the way to drag straining boxers off and take Eddie’s hard cock down his throat. Puts those swimmer’s lungs to the test between soft thighs as Eddie whines and pants and fucks into his mouth, guides pudgy fingers to grip his sleep-mussed hair, gropes Eddie’s plush ass—which, when he comes up briefly for air, he whines about how he can’t wait to bury his face there too—

‘Being queen of the Upside Down comes with a lot better perks than Hawkins High. What, Eddie Munson, is your deepest desire?’

‘To grow fat and happy with my boyfriend, live happily ever after and all that shit.’

Eddie comes with a drawn-out cry, back arching as best he can under his new bulk and trembling all over, panting and utterly spent after. Steve clambers up to kiss him, dragging Eddie’s palm to the front of his shorts to show off his own wet spot from coming untouched, just from sucking Eddie over the edge. 

And that’s a pretty good start to living happily ever after, isn’t it?

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie

[dairy-farmer]

Okay but a magical toy that pulls a green lantern "needs it most" routine? BRILLIANT. The chaos! The secrets! The PINING. And you KNOW I am, as always, trying to convert people to my Civilian!Tim Stan club~! It always causes so much more CHAOS when he's off the Bat Leash! So IMAGINE it:

Some uppity magic user. Trying to Make It In Gotham(tm). Realizing the HARD way that Bat-boot to the face is how Batman says hello. Panic flailing and shooting off every spell he knows. Landing none.

Throws THAT spell. The one he learned for his girlfriend but then she dumped him and he never got to use it. (Look he's PANICKING, okay?!) But he ALSO smashes it together with... something? He's not sure. He's trying and failing to dodge.

It HITS something.

Tim, on a roof. Trips over a bit of piping he doesn't see and gets hit. Oh no! But? Huh. He's fine? Sweet. Back to pictures then. The night concludes. But WAIT! This is an AU! Tim is a civilian! So who's ROBIN? Jason! Stressed as hell. B is being unreasonable and Damian's a Lil [redacted]. But what is THIS? Upon his bed? A fleshlight?

Real cute guys. Probably Dick's way of telling him to calm down. Or some creepy olive branch from B. Who knows. But he checks it out. And it feels AMAZING. Life like. He honestly gets engrossed, playing with it, exploring it. Wondering how it works. It even gets WET! It's a tight fit but he works it down onto to himself. Works loose and squelching. Oozing with he's lost COUNT of how many loads. It's the BEST.

It's the first night of Timmy's new night issues. Sometimes even DAY issues. Every night it's someone different. Some are super human fast. Some are so big he feels impaled. Sometimes they clearly aren't human. They slide in to him like they have every right to use him for their pleasure. To take and ram and fill him up then LEAVE. Oozing seed and twitching on the floor or on his bed or at school. Whenever THEY decide. And he has to hide it. Be the respectable Drake heir.

And the Cape community? Losing their damn minds! There is a toy. SOMEWHERE. THEIR toy, as far as they're concerned, and they CANT FIND IT. They NEED it back. It's the best stress relief of their LIFE. Someone TOOK it.

And of course, after the pounding of a life time by a Kryptonian. That poor stuffed hole flickers away to the next horny soul. Constantine. Who's like. "The fuck. This is attached to someone." He respectfully, caps it up, and brings it in. Cue mass glaring and cold sweating. What'cha got there john?

Well, some poor soul is LITERALLY getting fucked over... *continues reporting*

*dots connect in various heads*

Hysteria. What would their mother's say. Not even a drink first! They have SO many make up orgasms to give somebody. They have to find them! Before anyone ELSE! They are the ONLY one who would treat that pus- I mean, PERSON right!

And Tim? Prayers answered. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, man. You think he can keep up with Earth's Finest? Let him die a little, okay?? Just... just pass out for a bit. Festive little coma. Oww his puss. Brutes. All of them brutes. When he finds out, he gonna demand to be ROMANCED. Get the GUCCI fan merch. Seduced! THE MOST pillow of pillow princesses! D:< Justice for Tim puss!

tim's poor pussy 🥺🥺🥺 tim's little baby no-longer-a-virgin puss has been put through the wringer, always getting fondled, fingered, licked, or fucked. he hasn't gotten a break longer than a few hours since it began. sometimes the cocks inside him keep going even after tim can feel their thick cum sitting inside him. the worst part about the toy (or rather the best part of it for people using it) is that all the cum released into it is absolutely pressed into tim.

tim spends most of his days getting sloppily wet and having cum pumped into him. by the time that it reaches constantine and they're able to reverse engineer both the magician and find the "victim" in all of this- tim is already several weeks pregnant 😱. all the heroes who have been fucking tim all have to come to terms with the fact that they MAY have knocked up this civilian👀👀👀

[iamnotawomanimagod]

They figured out the leak!! We think. Hopefully.

Someone finally went up on the roof. I guess there was a tarp or covering of some kind that was loose, and so when it rained, the tarp would blow open and rain would get in through the roof.

I don't know enough about roofs to know why there are tarps..... I'm just repeating what the guy told me lmao. I live in a 3-story apartment building and the roof is kind of flat, or has a flat part on top. it's kind of hard to describe.

Anyway! They fixed the cover thing. Asked us to keep an eye on it. Fingers crossed that this is finally the answer. The explanation makes a lot of sense to me - why the leak seemed to come and go and was super inconsistent, and just the fact that there was something obviously wrong with the roof when nothing else seemed to be broken.

I will say that it hasn't always been raining when the leak was happening. But any water that had maybe collected up there would've been blown down if it was windy, even if it hadn't rained for a little while.

It's wild though b/c we're on the second floor. There's another apartment above us. The leak somehow missed their apartment and came down through the walls to ours. Fuckin' wild.

I'm cautiously optimistic. And they're going to come close up the holes in my ceiling this week, too. That'll be really nice. They're so ugly and they've been there for so long. Can't have been good for our temperature insulation either.

I also did a bunch of work today, raked the carpets of a lot of cat fur, did some laundry...

Feeling pretty okay. First good day I've had in awhile. Rather than a "meh" or bad day.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Summer of 2012

A story I found in my Google Docs I liked and thought to posts here. Small trigger warning: there is suicidal idealization mentioned within.

It starts the summer Jess is twelve. It’s 2012 and her brother shows up with an old van he bought off some man in town Jess is often told to never go near. It’s blue with a white roof, the paint peeling off in flakes and strips. The inside has grey seats that have more holes than fabric, with the stuffing half out. The dashboard is covered in filth, and the radio is missing. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol are stuck to the inside, making it almost impossible to breathe. 

  It’s old- she doesn’t know how old. It’s just old. 

“It’s a work in progress,” her brother laughs when he sees her wrinkled nose and wide eyes. He ruffles her hair as he speaks. “Wanna help Jess?” An easy grin pulls across his face, making Jess decide maybe the van isn’t so weird after all.

“Sure, Jack!” Jess replies, a grin of her own on her face. She’s swept up in a summer of reading an old owner’s manual that’s held together with duct tape and spit. She spends days with her brother’s phone in hand trying to figure out how to do spark plugs for cars while Jack spits out curses that have their mom giving him a good tongue lashing when he gets caught. Jess uses her iPod to blare music before Jack declares he refuses to keep listening to teeny bop, playing his own. She likes his a lot and only protests out of principle. 

Jack and her take breaks to laugh and talk. Jack brings out his guitar so he can show her the music he’s learning. It’s beautiful and she dances in the summer light, carefree and happy. Her hair flies around her as she dances, and her mother teasingly calls her a fae as the older woman comes out with water for them both.

Jess spends a week learning about oil and engines before she switches to learning how to wire a radio when her father brings one in. She’s the one to put it in while Jack’s the one to make new covers for the seats. She’s carefully putting the radio in when Jack shouts loudly and Jess jumps, turning around to find Jack on the ground outside of the van. A mouse apparently had been living in the seats. 

“How did we not notice that?” Jess asks as Jack shudders and declares they just won’t use that one now. 

“I have no clue. I am not talking about the mouse anymore.” Jack declares before he goes back to the seats. Jess laughs at him and goes back to her own job.

At night during the summer, they go out to the van to sit and talk. Jack brings his guitar and a lamp, while Jess brings snacks she pilfered from the kitchen. They speak quietly to one another, stuffing their faces with treats. 

“I want to be a musician,” Jack says softly as he strums a tune on his guitar. Jess is playing with some string she found from Jack’s seat attempts.

 “You’d be a good one Jack.” Jess promises. Jack smiles at her and Jess simply beams back. 

Jess does not have secrets yet, a young white girl raised in a Christian town with a homemaker for a mother and a doctor for a father. She’s young, cheerful and kind. Jess has no secrets for she has never needed to hold one. Yet she holds this one for her brother, hidden carefully away in her heart.

They go back to the van the next day, a secret shared and kept. Jack smiles and ruffles her hair while Jess plots ways to make pocket money to get him a notebook. She does and as a joke gets him a pink one, sticking a mouse sticker on it. Jack laughs at least, so Jess counts it as a win. 

It takes all summer to fix the van, but Jess loves it. She loves spending her days trying to put together the van. She loves the music Jack plays loudly on the iPod speakers, the neighbours poking their heads out to give nasty looks at the noise. She loves getting annoyed with the van and Jack taking her for a walk, buying ice cream and walking down the street eating it before they attempt to fix the van again. 

When September comes and they turn on the van, listening to it purr, all Jess can do is laugh in joy while her brother laughs with her. He talks about going on a road trip in the van when she’s older. 

“Canada is so wide Jess! Hell, Alberta is so wide! We need to make a plan- the summer after you graduate we’ll go on a road trip around Alberta all right?”

“Can we see the dinosaurs?!” Jess asks and Jack agrees, throwing his head back. It’s perfect, it’s amazing.

It’s the best summer of Jess’s life. Spent with her brother rebuilding a van together, making plans for the future. Jess turns to the start of a school year with a smile.

By October her smile is gone.

“Jack’s not doing well in school,” her parents say in low voices. It’s October and Jack seems disinterested in school. Jess listens as she sits on top of the stairs, having been about to go down when she catches their voices. She doesn’t understand- Jack’s getting 70s and 80s. It’s good, it doesn’t make sense why they’re acting like this.

“He’s not applying himself. He’s more interested in that guitar than trying. He could be doing better.” her parents say to one another.

They fight with Jack, telling him he should be doing better but Jack tells them he’s doing the best he can. He’s never been that good at school he claims or at least high shool has never come easy to him. Jess agrees- Jack’s never really gotten things like constant 90s and it’s weird their parents are acting like this. 

Jess asks once, and her mother declares that Jack should be getting better grades to become a doctor or a lawyer.

“What if he doesn’t want to?” Jess asks, though she doesn’t tell her Jack’s secret. 

“He should- it’s the best job for him.” Her mother insists and Jess doesn’t get it. She tells Jack this and Jack just snorts.

“Mom’s obsessed with picture perfect family bullshit- ignore her.” Jack tells her before he gets dragged into a fight with their dad who walked in to hear that.

Jack and their parents fight every day. Jess ends up finds herself in the park more, or at a friend’s house to avoid it. Just for peace and quiet to do homework or to spend time with a family not screaming at each other.

When she’s home and the fighting stare- Jack sometimes gets mad enough he’ll stomp out to the van. Jess will follow and he’ll take her for a drive. They’ll drive around town with the radio blaring. Jack shows her the old skatepark she’s not supposed to go near- where all the kids who do drugs and stuff hang out. 

Jess sits there with them, listening as they trade stories of fighting parents, of being smacked around and feeling worthless. One of the kids there is two years older than her. He lends her his jacket when the weather gets colder, and she sits under an old beat up leather jacket, dressed in a pink sweatshirt and jeans. 

Jess likes it, but when she catches Jack smoking in November she tells their parents. It’s the worst fight yet and Jack comes into her room to scream at her.

“You should have just kept your fucking mouth shut!” Jack screams before he storms out of her room. Jack refuses to drive her anymore. Jess feels lost and confused. Smoking is bad, and Jack shouldn’t smoke. He’s only sixteen after all. But now he’s mad at her causing her stomach to do twists and turns as she wonders what to do.

Time drifts with Jess spending more time outside her home than in, unable to take the fighting. December comes, and Christmas passes in an icy cold. No one speaks to each other, and only Jess is given gifts. 

Jess sneaks a notebook into Jack’s room- a blue one with a mouse sticker. The next day he ruffles her hair and Jess hopes things will turn out okay.

It’s December 28 when Jess awakens to screams of rage that fill the house and threaten to tear it down.

Jack’s guitar is smashed on the floor. Their father refuses to say sorry, simply saying it’s his house, his rules and Jack needs to grow up. 

Jess is twelve, it’s December 28 and the next day she wakes up to find Jack missing along with a bag full of jewelry and a stack of money he stole from their parents’ safe. The blue van is gone, as are Jack’s clothes and a pack.

Her parents claim he’ll be back, even as worry enters her father’s face. His hands shake and he swallows spit as he attempts to tell Jess this. Her mother twists her mouth and her eyes squint, clenching her fists. 

It’s December 29, 2012 and all Jess can think is that she thought the Mayan thing was on the 21. 

After Jack is gone, the fighting continues but this time it’s between her mother and father. They scream and shout at one another. Her father blames her mother, while her mother blames her father and Jess agrees.

Her father drove away Jack, and it’s all his fault that Jack hadn’t come back. When March of 2013 comes, and Jess is asked which of her parents she wishes to stay with, she says her mother.

In April, Jess turns 13. Her father is in Toronto, her brother is who knows where and her mother is trying not to cry. Jess doesn’t bother trying.

The summer of 2013, Jess agrees to babysit every day so she can avoid her mother who is crying one day and yelling the next. It’s a good summer, she gets a good amount of money and buys a notebook. She doesn’t have any place to send it though, so it stays in her bedroom. 

September of 2013, suddenly her mother starts picking at everything Jess does. She doesn’t get the right grades, she doesn’t have the right friends, she isn’t wearing the right clothes.

Jess blinks, wondering why her mother is acting like this and tries to argue with her mother who just tells her to listen to her and not speak back. Jess doesn’t understand as her mother harps and harps, telling Jess what to do.

“Well your brother decided to lash out instead of listen, and your father decided to smash his guitar,” her mother sniffs when Jess asks. “You need to listen.”

Jess doesn’t understand.

It’s December 2013, after months of her mother scolding her, taking away her phone, her iPod and even her door when Jess doesn’t perform the way she wishes. It’s December 2013 Jess decides she hates Jack for leaving. Hates her father for making him leave, hates her mother for her actions now and before.

And it’s December 2013 when Jess decides she hates herself for not being what her mother wants. 

In February 2014, Jess escapes her house to stumble around town. She simply books it out of the place when her mother decides to yell at her for getting a 60 on a test. Like her mother hadn’t kept her up with her lecture the night before. 

Jess walks around town and finds herself at the old skate park. She stands there in jeans, a winter coat and stares. A group of teens are hanging out in the chilly park, a couple of them smoking something, and another applying a new coat of paint to some graffiti. 

One of the smokes looks up. It’s the guy who gave her his coat years back. Jess never caught his name. 

“Hey, wanna come over here?” the guy calls and Jess walks forward silently to sit down next to him on the cold ground. “I’m Nick by the way.” He tells her. “Your brother never gave you our names.”

“Jess,” Jess says softly. She sits listening to people speak for the next two hours, before it’s getting dark. Nick takes her and drops her off a street over from her house. Jess walks into her mother in hysterics.

“I thought you left too! I thought you left me like your brother and your father!” her mother wails, hugging her. 

Jess hasn’t heard from either male since they left. Her mother states her father doesn’t call them, and Jess accepts it. He made Jack leave after all. 

That night her mother makes Jess pizza and doesn’t say a word about her weight. Jess hopes things will get better. That her mother’s snapped out of whatever affected her since dad left.

The next week her mother is screaming about grades again. 

A week later, Jess escapes to find the skate park.

It continues as February becomes March, April, May, June, July. As 2014 becomes 2015 and then 2016. As Jess becomes fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

As the girl who once held no secrets suddenly held too many. She’s altering her grades before she shows them to her mother with help from a girl who goes to the skate park who is named Mary. She’s sneaking out at night to the skate park where she smokes with the others and where Nick- who is eighteen, kind and so broken like the rest of them- sneaks them beer. 

Jess’s biggest secret though is that while she still hates her mother, father and brother- she hates herself the most. She hates herself and hates herself, the hate twisting her insides and making her almost vomit from the hate sometimes. She downs beer and smokes as much as she can but sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes Jess wonders if she should vanish like her brother. 

Sometimes she thinks if a car swerved to hit her she wouldn’t move out of the way.

It’s October 15, 2016 when Jess finds a letter in the trash. It’s addressed to her. She pulls it out.

‘Jessica,

I keep writing these. My wife Hannah says that your mother probably isn’t giving them to you and I hope it’s true rather then you throwing them away. I miss you.’

It’s the beginning and Jess looks down to the bottom of the letter, her heart beating harshly. 

It’s from her father.

Her mother comes in, and stops. Jess turns to her and stares at her mother who stares back with eyes wide. Then all Jess can see is red.

It’s October 20, 2016 when Jess is arrested for assaulting her mother, stealing her purse and car. She’s picked up in Red Deer.  Jess bought a bunch of beer with a fake ID she got from Nick a week ago, and is very drunk when she’s arrested.

“Why did you do it?” the police ask and Jess tells the truth. 

“Mom’s been hiding my dad is trying to contact me. I got mad.” Jess has the letter and the police take it. “She also yells a lot and I hate her but not as much as I hate myself.”

That gets their attention. “Do you want to kill yourself?”

“Nah, but like I won’t stop myself from dying.” Jess passes out soon after they speak to her.

She wakes up in a hospital. Jess is confused and lost as a lady comes in, and sees she’s awake.

“Hello- I’m Anne. I’m a social worker.” The woman smiles and Jess is even more confused.

Then she isn’t. Custody for her parents meant that her father is supposed to have her occasionally but her mother claimed Jess didn’t want to see him- that she threw away the letters. But Jess’s mother told everyone in town her father never contacted Jess- ever. It’s the kind of thing a custody case would have a hard time proving but Jess’s father is a doctor. He has a very good lawyer.

So does his wife Hannah who calls Jess’s father Robert and Jess never heard his name before. Her mother always says that knowing your parents first names is wrong until you’re eighteen. 

Jess is sixteen, it’s November and she sees her dad for the first time in three years. Hannah comes to, and she has a rounded stomach that Jessica wants to cry over.

Jess sees him while she sits in a hospital bed about to be transferred to a mental health center. Her father breaks down crying, while Jess just sits there. She isn’t sure what to say.

It’s December, 2016 and Jess has been in the center for a month. Passive suicidal ideation is what the doctors say she has, and they fuss over her like they do the others. It’s a good place- her father payed a lot of money for her to go to a good place after all. 

Jess gets letters and calls from her father and Hannah, but Jess doesn’t know what to say so often she spends the calls in silence. She doesn’t know what to say to her doctors or the staff or to the other patients. She does know what to say to Nick when he writes- which isn’t often because Nick states he’s hoping she gets better. 

Jess doesn’t know what to think. 

She sits in group and doesn’t speak. Simply stares at people and waits for it to be over. 

“Some days,” she mutters to herself late one night while she’s trying to sleep, “I think this is what will push me to do it.”

It’s January 2017, and Jess hasn’t left the center yet because her doctors are worried she’s showing no signs of improving. She’s in another group session and they’re pressing her.

“When was the last time you were happy?” the doctor begs.

“The summer of 2012,” Jess snaps. “I was twelve, my brother and I fixed up an old van together. Then it all went to hell.” She stomps off and hides in her room the rest of the day. 

The next day she’s handed a mechanics book and she throws it at the doctor. He just puts it on her dresser. She glares at the wall.

Two weeks later Jess picks it up and reads it front to back. The center is in lockdown because another patient tried to hang himself so they’ll all being kept inside. Jess is bored and she just wants something to do.

She reads it three times and then asks for another. And then another. 

The doctors set Jess up with an online course in mechanics and then it’s March 2017. She’s allowed to do a home visit. She doesn’t go back to her home town though. Instead she finds herself in Toronto with her father. It’s a good week.

In May 2017, she’s 17 and allowed to stay with her dad. She’s finished her course but wants to do another. Her father enrolls her in a school meant to help her learn a trade. Hannah’s given birth to Jess’s little brother Max. 

Jess isn’t happy. But she finds herself smiling.

She spends the year before she turns 18 learning all she can about cars and babysitting Max. She learns her mother’s name is Amanda, and that after a search was conducted on the house for Jess’s belongings, an address for a cemetery and a location of a storage unit was found. 

It’s Jack’s.

Jess doesn’t know what happened, and she isn’t sure if she should know just yet. She tells her father this and he understands. He knows- he’s visited. But he won’t tell until she asks. Apparently Jack left everything to Jess. Her mother never touched it and Jess decides she’ll never ask if it was because she couldn’t or because she at least had that much kindness.

May turns to June and Jess still isn’t ready. Instead she’s trying to find a job to distract from her need for a smoke. It’s then July and she’s working out of an ice cream truck. It’s August and she’s laughing on a camping trip with her father, Hannah and Max. Max is trying to eat raw hot dogs while Hannah is trying to stop him and Jess’s father is howling at the scene. 

It’s September 2017 when Jess realizes, for the first time since the summer of 2012, she’s happy. 

She hopes she keeps being so.

[lesbiangummybearmafia]

Dear Void,

I'm not ok, I haven't been ok for a long time, I keep it myself, because no one has the time to care that I'm not ok. I keep going not being ok. I might be homeless soon if everything I've been working for with an apt falls through because I got some papers work in a couple of weeks too late. It could mean the difference between me having a roof over my head or not. I wasn't told there was an expiration date that I had to have the paperwork in by.

I've been crying on and off all day since I found out. Terrified that nothing can be done. I have to wait until tomorrow to see if I can speak to my case worker, who truthfully doesn't give a fuck about me. Not because of me but because she has too many cases, is over worked and under paid. She can't seem to actually care that's I'm human being this effects my real life because of reasons I mentioned. I don't want to talk to her if she just going to treat me like a case number and not an actual person. But I don't have much choice. I'm scared she just going to give me the company line so to speak. So I spent most of the day going in touch with anyone else I thought might help me outside that agency, figuring my case worker isn't going to anything, which I feel would be her reaction to any of us that have her as case worker.

I'm telling this to the void, because I don't really have anyone else. Because I'm tried of this being another moment in my life where I was just about to get to something positive, something I truly needed and wanted, where I could literally feel it, see it, almost touch it... only to have it ripped away from me fucking again.

For anyone wondering why people not like you get suicidal this why! I'm just... losing the tiny little itty bitty sliver of stupid hope I just built back up. That maybe just maybe it could be alright. That I could start fresh and that would be good.

But fuck I never get to start fresh I just get more and more and more crap dropped on my head, fall in another deep fucking hole I have to fucking climb out of. But first I have to get all this crap out of the way, then I start climbing, just as get to the top, I can see the light not all the light mind you just a little bit. It all started all over again... and so.

The issue now is I no longer have the strength to keep starting over at bottom of the hole. I just want it all to just stop. Unfortunately my depression makes it far too easy for me to think of ways of just stopping it all. I'm at one if moments where I'm having trouble remembering why I should stick around. If it's just going to be more of the same why bother.

Some would say call the suicide prevention line. Here's the thing about that line if you haven't had the need to ever call it. I don't know if due demand or what but they seem to want to get you the fuck off it as fast as possible. Which doesn't really work when one is feeling stressed and wanting to kill one's self! Unless I guess you're actually holding a gun to your head, their not exactly patient and too willing to listen. Which call me stupid but I'd think that would be the point not how exactly suicidal are you? Oh you're not that bad could you please get the fuck off the line! They will literally hurry you the fuck up once they know or at least think you're not going to off yourself. To me not really helpful, it's more something to be avoided it all cost!

Tonight though dear void. I'm going to take something to help me sleep, just sleep. Other wise I'm not going to be able to, because my anxiety has to so amped up. If nothing the sun will be up tomorrow right...