#my back still hurts thinking about glueing them down

[guess-my-next-obsession]

endure & survive | iv. the storm

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), descriptions of blood/stitches, grief, talks of dead bodies, panic attack, unproofread bc i’m lazy

word count: 2.8k

series masterlist | previous chapter

JOEL

“Everybody good?” It’s a question meant for one person in particular—the woman that just got the air kicked out of her—but with what the kids just saw, there’s no harm in asking them, too.

“Good,” Ellie says, although her voice is quiet. Even if I didn’t know her, I’d be able to tell that she’s lost in her head. After what she did, I’d be lost, too.

“I need…” My attention lands on our host—Red, I think I’ll call her, to match the fire in her eyes. She’s resting one arm against the kitchen counter, the other cradling her ribs. “I don’t know.”

I’m walking over to her before I even realize I’m doing it, my hands reaching out to steady her as she sways a bit and goes clammy. “Y’need to lay down.”

“Need to wash…the blood…” I look down, scanning her body to find a clean slice up her arm dripping blood onto the wooden planks beneath us.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. Guiding her over to one of the chairs at the dining table, I have to glower at her to get her to sit. “Y’got a med kit?”

She nods, weakly pointing to the cabinet above the sink.

“Ellie, can you boil some water?” I glance at her as I reach to grab the med kit, finding her still in that state of shock.

She needs to get up, to find ways to busy her mind and hands so that she’s not replaying the events from earlier. I know it better than anybody.

“Ellie,” I call again, this time breaking through to her. “Need some help, kid.”

“Right,” she says, her voice still softer than I’d like. “Water, you said?”

“Yeah,” I manage, keeping one eye on her and one on the woman in front of me half-ready to faint. “Quickly as you can manage.”

“Got it.”

Focusing back on Red, I pull up a chair in front of her. “Gonna need to stitch you up.”

“I can…take care of…myself.”

“You can’t even talk,” I grunt, shaking my head at her as I lay out the contents of the kit in front of us. Needles, thread, an antiseptic that I hope still works.

“You even know…what you’re doing?” Even bleeding out and winded, she’s still coming at me.

I have no fuckin’ clue as to why I like it so much.

“Ain’t my first time stitchin’ up an awnry woman, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t want to think about the last woman I tended to like this. If I do, I’ll just get angry all over again. Angry and hurt. “Might leave a scar, though.”

“Mama,” Colt comes up to her, sticking to her side like glue. “What’s gonna happen to you?”

She softens, forcing a smile onto her clammy face. “Well, Joel here…is gonna…stitch me up. Y’know…how I like to…sew?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well…Joel’s just gonna…sew my cut up,” she says, raising her free hand up to his face. “It sounds scarier…than it is.”

“Okay,” he says, blowing out a breath of air. “I’ll hold your hand, just in case it hurts.”

I might be a cold-hearted bastard, but damn it if the sight of Colt and Red together doesn’t warm my soul just a little bit.

“Water’s boiling,” Ellie announces, joining us at the table.

“Alright, soon as it reaches a boil, I need you t’take it off the heat and let it cool a little bit before bringing me a bowl full,” I instruct. “As for you, Red, I’m gonna need you t’sit right here and not bleed out in the meantime.”

“Got nothing better to do,” she says, one corner of her mouth twitching just the slightest bit.

Ignoring the strange feeling stirring in my chest—one I’m sure is a result of the adrenaline high I’m coming off of—I head over to the bathroom and rinse the blood off my hands with the leftover water sitting in a bucket inside the empty bathtub. It’s not the most sanitary of set-ups, but it’s better than nothing.

“Hey,” Ellie pokes her head in the bathroom, locking eyes with me in the vanity mirror. “What, uh, what are we doing about the dead dudes?”

“Don’t know,” I say as I scrub my hands with soap. “Don’t deserve a burial, in my humble opinion.”

“I just mean…like…are we good here?”

I contemplate her question for a few seconds. Truthfully, I’ve got no fuckin’ idea if it’s safe to be here. Those fucks outside could be apart of a larger group and just got dealt the shit end of the recon stick for all I know. So, I settle on the truth. “I don’t know, Ellie. Regardless, no one’s gonna be comin’ out this way in the storm. Once it passes, we’ll be on our way like we planned to.”

“And them?” she asks, her brows lacing together. “We’re just going to leave them behind?”

Rinsing my hands off and grabbing a cloth to wipe them dry, I turn to face her with an exasperated look. It’s been a hell of a fucking afternoon. My body is drained. My mind is all over the place. I’m not in the position to stretch myself any thinner than I already have.

“Ellie, this is their home,” I whisper, gesturing towards where Colt and Red sit just on the other side of the wall. “She can decide what she wants to do. All I’m worried about is us.”

“There’s not an ounce of sympathy left in that cold heart of yours?” She’s getting pissed now, just another part of her dealing with what she did out there in the woods.

“Sympathy won’t keep us alive,” I say, moving past her.

READER

Joel’s hands are warm. Rough, yes, but so fucking warm. And surprisingly gentle.

He’s got one hand resting beneath my forearm as it lays on the table, squeezing both sides of my wound together as he stitches it closed. He just finished washing it clean, his fingers gentle as he dragged the damp cloth along the slice until it was no longer caked in dark blood. He’s by no means a surgeon, but damn it if he’s not completely focused and careful with me.

It’s painfully attractive. Even if the guy still pisses me off with all of his grunts and scowling.

Then again, I always did find competency sexy. It was the main reason Kit ever made it out of the friend zone back in QZ.

A man who can take care of shit is an entirely different level of desirable.

“You have done this before, haven’t you?” I don’t know why I’m making conversation, other than the fact that for the first time in the last hour, I can speak without feeling like I’m going to pass out.

Between the chest kick that knocked the wind out of me and the slice across my arm, I’m surprised I made it this long without fainting.

“Yep,” he says, sighing a little bit.

“Surprising,” is all I reply. He glances up from his work and pins me with dark eyes, but I’m quick to look away. Instead, I turn to look at Ellie and Colt in the middle of the living room, sitting side by side on the floor as they color in companionable silence. They’re both handling this better than I would, especially Ellie.

“Why?” Joel’s soft, deep voice brings my eyes back to him, but thankfully, he’s not looking at me this time.

“Just don’t seem like the caretaking type is all.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “Because travelin’ around the country with a teenager doesn’t involve any caretakin’.”

“Ellie seems pretty self-sufficient, that’s all I mean.”

“Still a kid,” he says, stabbing the needle through my flesh quickly enough that I barely register the pain. “Still someone to take care of.”

“She yours?” I’ve been meaning to ask ever since they arrived, but between our little arguments and then staying out in the shed, there hasn’t been much of an opportunity to pry.

“No,” he replies, pursing his lips.

“How long have you been watching over her, then?”

“Since summer,” he says. “Promised someone I’d take her across the country. It’s taken us this long to get here.”

I nod, not wanting to ask for anything more than he’s given me. Lord knows I certainly haven’t been all that giving in terms of my history.

“What about you?” he asks, sticking me with the needle again. “I’m assumin’ he’s yours.”

“Yeah,” I smile softly, my eyes wandering to Colt. “He’s mine.”

“And the father?”

I suck in a deep breath and let my eyes fall to my lap. “He died before Colt was born.”

Joel’s eyes flicker up to meet mine. “You gave birth by yourself?”

I nod, chuckling a bit at the memory. “And I’ll never do it again.”

Joel’s lips threaten to curl upwards. “Can’t say I blame you.”

It’s odd making conversation that doesn’t end with me calling him a dick or him judging my parental skills, but what’s even more strange is that I’m starting to think he’s not a dick at all.

Or maybe he is, but only when he wants to be. Maybe he’s a dick because it’s the safer option out here. I sure as hell haven’t been the most friendly person in the world.

“So…about what happened out there,” I say, my free hand tracing the hole in my jeans at my knee in order to distract myself from what I know is inevitable. “We’re not safe out here, are we?”

Joel’s jaw clenches a bit as he works the final swipe of his needle through me. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, hoping Colt’s keen ears don’t pick up on it.

“You’re safe out here at least until the storm passes through,” Joel says as consolation, his fingers working quickly to tie the thread into a knot before he’s wrapping my arm up in a bandage.

“It could be over with by tomorrow,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can make it out there on my own, not with Colt. I’m not like you, and he’s not like Ellie. We’re…too soft.”

Joel’s eyes grow stern, his hand still holding my arm even though he’s finished with sewing me up. “Trust me, Red, you’re anything but soft.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t know me. I might pretend to be brave, but…deep down, I’m just scared.”

“Y’don’t think I’m scared every goddamn day out there?” His voice is low, hushed to the point that I have to lean in to hear him. “It’s alright to be scared shitless. What’s not alright is to give up. You stay out here, y’all are just sittin’ ducks waitin’ for someone to come by and take everything from you. Now, I don’t know you well enough to trust you, but I trust that you’ll do anything to save that boy of yours. You’ll find a way to be brave.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and give him a nod. It’s all I can do not to cry.

I wish Kit were here.

I wish I didn’t have to go through this alone and make these decisions.

Most of all, I wish Colt never had to live in this dangerous, uncertain world.

“Listen, I gotta talk this through with Ellie, but…” He rubs the scruff on his chin, appearing at war with himself for what he’s about to say. “Maybe y’all can tag along with us, least until you find someplace to settle.”

I give him a wary, almost skeptical look. “We don’t trust each other.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees, shrugging one shoulder as he lets his hands finally slip away from my arm. “But we’ve both had plenty of chances to kill each other and haven’t yet. I figure as long as we continue like that, we’ll be alright.”

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain if you do, too,” I say, holding my free hand out for him to shake on. Joel eyes it for a moment before grasping it in his warm grasp.

Still so rough.

Still so gentle.

JOEL

“Jesus, is it like this every winter out here?” Ellie asks, sitting beside me at the table while we eat the dinner Red whipped up for us.

I’d offered to help—actually, I’d offered to do it myself—but ever the stubborn asshole, she refused to let me do so much as boil water. Tess always told me I was the most stubborn person on the planet, but I think she’d change her mind if she ever met Red.

”It ebbs and flows,” Red says, wiping her mouth with a cloth. “Some winters it’s calm, barely snows more than a few inches. Some winters—like this one—are brutal.”

My eyes flicker to the boy sitting beside her, his chair scooted up so close to hers he might as well have been sitting in her lap. He’s clutching his spoon hard enough to bend it, and his eyes—eyes that don’t match his mother’s—look wild. Red catches me staring, watching her son like he’s a wolf bronco that might buck at me any minute.

“Colt and I always get a little jittery when a storm like this rolls through,” she says, reaching her hand over to rub her son's shoulder. “But it’s nothing we haven’t faced before, right?”

“Mmhm,” he manages, clearly trying to put on a brave face for his mom.

I hate how much it reminds me of Sarah.

I hate being forced to revisit old wounds I haven’t touched in decades.

Most of all, I hate hating the memory of my daughter. She deserves to be remembered without all these extra emotions that come along with it.

Regret.

Anger.

Shame.

Letting my spoon drop into my bowl with a clank, I push my chair back and stand up abruptly, drawing all eyes. “‘Scuse me. I need…uh, need some air.”

I turn to walk towards the door to the cabin, hearing Red call out behind me. “Wait—out there?”

I don’t stop. I can’t.

My ears are ringing, my hands are numb, and all I can think to do is get up and go. I need to be alone. I need to not break down in front of Ellie. In front of Red and her boy.

The icy wind hits me as soon as I step out of the cabin, flecks of snow whirring in front of me and cutting into the warmth of my skin, but it’s a welcome sensation. I’d rather feel something than nothing, and if putting my body into shock is what I need to snap out of it, I’ll gladly sit out here in this blizzard for hours.

“Joel, come back inside!” I expect the person to come chasing after me to be the awnry fourteen-year-old in my care, but it’s not. With a voice full of irritation, and even a little concern, Red is calling my name and shouting orders like she has any right to.

“I’m—“ The words aren’t coming out smoothly, not with the way I can’t seem to catch my breath. “Fine.”

“You’re walking into a blizzard!” she shouts.

“Just…go on back,” I manage, though it’s hard to register if I’m actually getting the words out or just thinking them. All I know is the haggard in and out of my breathing, the pounding in my chest, the empty feeling in my stomach.

Until she rests her hand on my shoulder.

Until I know her touch.

Her warmth.

The gentle squeeze of her hand as she brings me back to myself.

“Come back inside,” she says, her voice softer than it’s ever been towards me. When my eyes settle, the haze turning to clarity, I find her expression just as soft. Just as gentle. “You can freak out in the bathroom if you want. It’s too fucking cold out here and Ellie said if I didn’t get you to come back inside, she’d come out here next.”

I let out a chuckle, or what’s meant to be a chuckle, and nod my head slowly. “Alright, Red.”

And just like that, I’ve gone and done the most dangerous thing a person can do out here.

I’ve made a friend.

[creativelyunori]

Fic - 9 ½ Days by the incredible @magpiefngrl !!

I said I might start posting some of the fic binds I’ve done and what better to start with than my all time favorite drarry fic! I’ve read this fic so many times that it feels like coming home, it’s my go to re-read. I love reading when i’m travelling the most, I can just lose myself in this fic so easily,, everyday i’m so grateful that this fic was finished.

I wanted the cover to look a bit like a map that the boys had doodled on despite this never happening in the fic I can just see it so clearly. I wanted it to be full of the references and nods to the story that were stuck in my head. my favorite part of this bind is by far the dried flowers on the final page,, I have no idea why but Draco making the bouquets at the cottage kept rattling around in my brain so i just,, made some in the back. The flowers are not at all accurate with what’s in the story but I was working with what I had

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[emocheol]

first kiss with seventeen

seungcheol

gets all nervous

has been planning this for weeks

wants it to be so good so bad that he ends up colliding his forehead with yours when he’s going in

gets all red from embarrassment and makes you swear to never tell anyone about it (so of course you tell everyone)

“please tell me that wasn’t the worst first kiss you’ve had”

“well if that’s what you want to hear…”

jeonghan

makes you make the first move

can tell that you’ve been wanting to kiss him since you’re always looking at his lips, just wants to make you work for it

will spend the entire day teasing you by getting close and then pulling away

you have to grab his face and hold him there to finally kiss him

he won’t ever let you live down the fact that technically you made the first move

“you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

“you’ve been teasing me all day!”

“doesn’t change the fact”

joshua

extremely confident

just makes out with you when he feels the timing is right

can’t get enough and will not stop kissing you

becomes a norm in your relationship for him to kiss you every second he gets

“why are you always kissing me?”

“why? can’t i show my partner how much i love them?”

jun

shy shy shy

makes a whole romantic date and at the end he asks if it’s okay to kiss you

is soooo nervous that you’re going to say no, but of course you say yes

swears that fireworks explode when your lips touch

he is so whipped for you

“i think im in love with you”

“what was that?”

“uhhh i think we need more glue!”

soonyoung

gives it no thought

just spontaneously kisses you when he gets extra happy one day

“babe! look our song is number 1!” and presses a bunch of kisses on your lips

all he remembers is how nice it feels to kiss you

continues to kiss you whenever he feels like it and loves it twice as much whenever you initiate it

“soonyoung! you just kissed me!”

“yeah! did you not like it? :(”

“no it’s okay, do it again”

wonwoo

quite simple about it

will pucker his lips at you and wait for you to kiss him

won’t get embarrassed over it either

he’s in love with you! he’s not scared to show his affection

“wonwoo what are you doing?”

“waiting for you to kiss me, angel”

jihoon

heat of the moment kiss

everything feels so right

feels like he’d be doing you a disservice if he didn’t kiss you

is the most gentle man on the planet and holds your face in his hands

will let you take control of the kiss, just this one time

you’ll be grinning like an idiot

“what was that for?”

“just felt right”

minghao

encourages you to kiss him first

you just got promoted at your job and you’re over the moon about it, so you’re celebrating with minghao

“you can kiss me if you want” he’ll say as if it’s the most casual sentence ever

you get all shy and press a sweet kiss to his lips

he’ll take the lead

“don’t be shy, sweetheart”

“you’re just too handsome :(”

mingyu

he’ll be sick and sulking because he wants to go on your planned date but he can’t get out of bed

profusely apologizes but you won’t accept them because it’s not his fault!

when he won’t stop rambling you’ll lean down and kiss him to shut up him

when you pull away he has a dopey smile on his face

“do that again!”

“i can’t risk getting sick…”

“i’ll nurse you back to health”

pulls you down to him, and pecks your lips a bunch of times

seokmin

#1 gentleman

wine and dine

“i totally understand if you’re not ready but, can i kiss you?” SWOON

makes you feel like the most special person on the planet

will still ask you if he can kiss you multiple times after that

“can i kiss you?”

“seokmin we’ve been together for a year”

“doesn’t hurt to ask!”

seungkwan

smooth so so smooth

you’ll be playing a game and the prize is the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want

seungkwan wins (of course)

pretends to think about what he wants even though he knows

“kiss me”

“what?!”

“i won so i want you to kiss me”

cue you being a blushing mess and giving seungkwan a light kiss

vernon

gets home from work one day and kisses you when he walks through the door

you’re shocked and he’s acting like it’s an every day occurrence

doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it

(he’s secretly been wanting to kiss you for weeks)

“what was that for?”

“just missed you, baby”

this becomes a regular occurrence when he gets home from work now

chan

nervous as hell

wants to be smooth and he is!

until he’s not

accidentally bites your tongue (a/n: i have had a man bite my tongue before and it hurt for a week)

profusely apologies but he’s such a cutie, how can you be mad?

“i’m so sorry, do you want me to get ice?”

“no, chan, just kiss me again”

does it right this time

[literaila]

slip-up

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi says something he's not supposed to

warnings: bit of sad megumi (same babe), gojo is a terrible comforter, reader doesn't get a lot of screen time but she's always there, a good lack of conflict resolution

a/n: the one-shot that started this series. i figured it was time to give it up

last part | next part

*

year four.

megumi doesn't notice the slip-up right when he says it. he's not even really paying attention to the conversation. 

instead, he's thinking about the homework assignment he was supposed to turn in today--the one that gojo refused (couldn't) help him with. 

"my mom usually drops us off," he's telling his teacher, trying to be polite like you taught him and not start whining (like gojo taught him). "but she's out of town right now, so gojo dropped us off instead and he gets the times confused..." 

in all honesty, megumi could blame this whole thing on gojo. because it was his fault. 

usually, you woke him and tsumiki up, pulling on his hair when he whined into the pillows, packing their lunches while they both sat at the table, eating cereal or tamagoyaki. usually, you reminded megumi to tuck in his shirt and helped the two of them get their books together, taking an occasional moment to shout at megumi's budget dad to get up before he was late. usually, you walked them to the door, kissing them both goodbye and watching both of them until they closed the door. 

later on, you'd be there again, welcoming them home with another smile, asking about their days. forcing them into a thorough recap. 

but today megumi woke up with a sore neck and gojo smiling at him, asking if he was planning on being buried in his bed. 

because even though megumi heard you tell gojo that he needed to help out, step up, the mornings while you were gone, all of you should've known better. 

megumi hasn't even ever seen gojo out of bed before nine-thirty. 

so here he was, with his shirt untucked, his homework missing, and a bag of lollipops that gojo packed for lunch. 

here he was, three hours late for school, trying to explain to his teacher that it wasn't his fault. 

and here he was, accidentally calling you mom. 

but megumi doesn't even realize that until his teacher smiles a little bit, telling him that she understands, asking him when his mom gets back. 

megumi freezes. 

the word repeats in his mind, and he finally realizes his slip-up. 

sure, he's heard tsumiki call you it before--because for all intents and purposes, that's what you were. after four years of your unconditional love, the two of them knew, truly, that they could depend on you. 

but megumi has never had a mom, and he doesn't now. 

so it's still gojo's fault when the first tear rolls down his cheek. which megumi promptly wipes away. he's not going to cry--he's not the sort of kid that cries. he prides himself on it, actually. not needing the same sort of attention that he's seen his classmates get, never feeling things that deeply. 

but he's crying now, and his neck still hurts as he turns away from his teacher, going to sit down at his desk. 

and megumi isn't the type of kid that cries, but when he puts his head down, his cheeks feel a little damp. 

*

megumi's got a headache now--another reason why he doesn't cry--and he sort of wants to curl up in bed until tsumiki gets home, and then convince her to run away with him. 

but he doesn't. 

when gojo unlocks the door, megumi goes through it without stopping to look around. he drags his backpack to his room--gojo watching the whole time, of course--and closes the door before the man can say anything stupid. 

he can't deal with him right now. or ever, actually. 

megumi sets his backpack up against the wall with a brief thought about homework and the class he's going to miss because of this, but he doesn't care enough to dwell on it. 

everything about him feels stiff, like glue got between the seems of his very core. 

he's ten years old. he shouldn't have to worry about anything. 

he takes off his blazer, sets it on his desk with sweaty palms, and feels quite naked--even with the layers of clothes and lack of eyes. and his head hurts. megumi wants to get up and restart his day just so he can tell some version of his former self not to be so stupid. 

but he knows that's just the guilt talking, so he ignores that too. 

and it's only ten minutes into his glooming that there's a knock on the door, and gojo doesn't knock, so megumi knows immediately that something's wrong. 

he's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, but he leans up on his elbow when you peek your head into the room. 

for a brief moment, megumi is so relieved to see you that he almost jumps up and clings to you--like some child would. 

he wants to hold onto you and beg you not to leave again, because everything seems to go wrong when you’re not there. he wants to tell you that he’s scared, and that he’s not sure what to do.

but he refrains, and blinks idly, confused about why you're here, and why his heart hurts just from looking at you. 

“hey, you okay?” you whisper, taking a step into the dark room. you don't look banged up, and megumi wonders what gojo said to get you to come home. he probably told you that megumi was dying, or something. 

you sit on the edge of his bed, and your hand is on his forehead before megumi can blink. “you feel sick?” 

megumi nods, but his eyes don’t meet yours. it's a small enough lie. 

“i’m sorry. did satoru give you any medicine?” 

“did you have to come home for me?” 

you smile, slightly. “no, buddy, don’t worry. it was easier than they said, just a grade one. plus i kinda rushed it cause i missed you guys.” you push his hair out of his eyes, “now, medicine?”

“i don’t want any.” 

“if you don’t feel good—“ 

“actually,” he interrupts. “can—i, um, i don’t really want to talk.” 

you pause, eyes roaming over his face. “oh. okay. that’s fine.” 

you remove your hands from him immediately, walls of metaphorical space flying up between the two of you. “i’ll leave you alone. just ask if you need anything, okay? i’m going to go unpack.”

he nods and you give him a little grin. 

and right as you're at the door, he falters. he doesn’t really want you to go. he wants you to crawl into bed with him, treat him like he's actually sick, and let him lay with his head in your lap. he wants to ask you the same question that's been in his head since he said it, but he can't. 

“y/n?” he whispers, instead, your name feeling wrong in his mouth. 

“yeah?"

“will... will you get gojo?" he asks, even though it's not what he wants to say at all. "i want to talk to him.” 

“gojo?” you frown, looking at him. “yeah. of course, yeah. i’ll go get him. one sec.” 

and when you close the door, megumi feels like he’s said something wrong. slipped up again. 

he sits there and waits, feeling incorrect in his body. he wants you to come back and tell him that it'll all be fine, but he knows that you won't. if there's one thing you're good at, it's respecting boundaries. 

and megumi has a lot of them. 

gojo doesn’t knock when he comes into the room, and megumi is so lost in thought that he jumps as soon as the door clicks open. 

megumi’s neck flies as he looks at him, wide eyes. he's already sat up, preparing himself for an influx of anger. 

“is this about your lunch?” gojo asks, immediately, words fast and smooth. “because that wasn’t my fault. i thought your school did that.”

“you bought us our lunchboxes,” megumi argues, “you made me get the weird one with the dragon.” 

“do not insult dracomon like that.” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “whatever.” 

“so, you wanna talk to me, huh?" gojo sits on megumi’s desk chair, legs hanging off the sides. “i think this is the first real conversation we’ve ever had.” 

megumi rolls his eyes again. 

gojo waves a hand. "alright. what is it?" 

megumi pauses. he can't ask gojo. even if he had an answer, it would be the least trustworthy version of one. 

he scratches his neck, not sure how to lie about this. knowing that he's not supposed to lie in the first place. 

he's doing everything wrong today. 

gojo shakes his head, white hair the victim of many fashion crimes. “spit it out, kid. i just did you a huge favor, and i don’t have time for the attitude.” 

“you didn’t do anything,” megumi frowns, crossing his arms. 

gojo snorts. “you think they just say ‘come get your child’ when you’re crying at your desk?” he asks, rhetorically, and megumi’s face goes still. “no, they disrupted my nap, saying that you needed to be picked up and handed me a card for a child psychologist.” 

“they told you?” 

he nods. “and i didn’t tell y/n,” he grins, self-satisfied. “so you’re welcome.” 

“why not?” 

“because she would’ve freaked out, and i don’t need that, and i’m pretty sure you don’t want that…” 

megumi nods immediately. 

“it can stay our secret if you tell me what’s going on. i’ll edit the report when y/n asks,” then he turns, looking at the door. “even though she’s already listening in.” 

“really?” megumi bites the inside of his cheek, checking the crack under the door for feet. 

satoru kicks him. “no. she’s in her room. now, talk. i don’t know how long she’ll take.” 

megumi swallows. he doesn’t really want to ask—not his only real question—but he’s already gotten this far. 

at least it doesn't matter what he says, because no one will believe anything gojo makes up anyway. 

“megumi…” gojo prods. 

“do you know where my mom is?” 

there’s a pause. a very long pause where megumi feels like he’s being scrutinized.

he can tell that gojo is looking at him very closely, a microscope to megumi’s cell, even though he can’t see his eyes.

“i—“ gojo pulls a strand of hair by his ear. clearing his throat. “i, um, im not sure. why?” 

“no reason.” 

there’s a very weird wince on the man’s face. “do you want to… talk about them? your… parents?” 

“no,” megumi says immediately. 

gojo sighs. “look, i’ll tell you if you really want to know—“ 

“i don’t care. i just… i don’t care.” 

“…okay.” 

“okay.” 

the two of them are both lying. they have the same neck-scratching, and looking away tells. if you were in the room, you would be monitoring both of them very harshly. probably scolding them for the look on both of their faces.

gojo’s expression is so much weirder than megumi’s ever seen it. “are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“i just wanted to know if you knew,” megumi says, crossing his arms, then doing it again. “i don’t care about them. they don’t care about me.” 

“well, i don’t know that—“ 

“no. you and y/n took us in and they didn’t care. so why should i?” 

“right.” gojo nods. “right we… took you in.” 

megumi nods, as a finality, and then deflates a little bit. 

he doesn’t care about his mom—whoever she is, wherever she might be. he doesn’t. he just… also doesn’t want to replace her. 

it feels wrong to think about. she doesn’t care about his life, so why should he care about hers? 

it's a stupid sort of guilt. if tsumiki said anything like it, megumi wouldn't talk to her for a week. 

but it's the sort of guilt over you, and a woman he knows nothing about. someone he doesn't really want to know about. 

maybe that makes it worse. 

“did someone say something at school?” 

megumi frowns. “no. why would they?” 

gojo shrugs. “kids are jerks,” he answers, simply, and then mutters “i would know…” under his breath, making megumi want to punch him again. 

“no one said anything.” 

“then why were you crying this morning?” 

“i wasn’t crying.” 

“hey,” gojo frowns. “crying is fine. it’s good.” 

“i know,” megumi crosses his arms. 

“okay, then.” 

megumi doesn’t even know why he wanted to talk to gojo in the first place. 

“look,” gojo sighs, his fingers tapping along the body of the chair. he whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “y/n is so much better at this,” and then meets megumi’s eyes—metaphorically, of course. everyone knows that gojo doesn’t have any eyes. “if you want to talk about your parents, we can talk about them. tsumiki asks questions every once in a while. and…” he breaks away, shaking his head. “if there’s something i don’t know, then i'll—we’ll figure it out. i’ve got eyes everywhere.” 

gojo is grinning at his little joke, but megumi’s frown deepens. 

"i don't care about them," he says, again, as a reassurance to them both. 

"they are your parents, you know?" he holds his hands up in defense, probably from the glare megumi is giving him. "i'm just saying. curiosity is normal." 

"how would you know?" 

gojo sighs, tilting his head back. he looks almost hurt. "i'm wise. i've got years of experience on you." 

"no, you don't." 

he shakes his head. "now i'm going to start crying." 

megumi stares at him. if he could trade gojo for literally anyone else in the world, he would. 

and yet, he doesn't want to talk to you about this. he doesn't want to talk at all. and he does. 

at least he knows that gojo won’t take any of this too seriously. that he won’t get to the bottom of the problem, like neither of them wants.

"do you think..." megumi starts, whispering. "do you ever regret taking us in?" 

gojo swallows. he looks almost hesitant to answer, but megumi knows that must be wrong. gojo has never hesitated a moment in his life.

"well, you guys are pretty mean to me. but no, we don't regret it. why would we?" he asks, teasing, like always. "children are for chores." 

megumi shakes his head. 

"you should--" gojo scrunches his nose. "i can get y/n. she's got better answers, anyway." 

"no!" megumi holds his hand out when the man begins to move from the chair, heart racing. "i don't want to talk to her." 

"did something happen with you guys? you think someone might mention it to me..." 

"no, nothing happened. i just... want to talk to you." 

gojo snorts, but he sits back down. "whatever you did, i'm sure it's not that bad. remember that time i set tsumiki's hair on fire when she was gone? that was bad." 

"i didn’t do anything. i'm not like you," megumi scowls, looking away. 

"would you like a reward?" gojo asks, dryly. "most people wouldn't openly admit that. i admire your confidence." 

both of them are silent, megumi considering the consequences of just saying the words out loud, nonetheless to gojo--who definitely won't know what to do with them. 

after a minute, gojo clears his throat. "okay, megumi. my turn. do you regret coming here with me? instead of going with your family? you'd be clan head someday, you know." 

"that place with the freaky shed of weapons you showed me?" 

"yup." 

"no," megumi doesn't have to think about that. "tsumiki's with me here. and i--"

i like it here, he almost slips. i love you guys.

megumi sighs. he doesn't want to say that to gojo. 

but the older man looks like he already knew what he meant, a dumb smile on his face. "good. okay. well, i don't know what's wrong with you," he gives megumi a pointed look, saying that he actually does. "but i'm sure it'll all work out. you've got me here, so there's nothing to worry about. and y/n would kill me if anything happened to you, so. don't worry about your parents, kid." 

megumi blinks at him. because his problems can be summed up with a quick "yeah, that's cool." 

he rolls his eyes. 

gojo's hand nudges his knee. "you can still ask if you want. anytime. we love you, you know? y/n more than me, but still..." 

megumi shakes his head. "well i love her more than you." 

"good. tsumiki's my favorite anyway." 

"good. she's the only one who can deal with you." 

"good," gojo retorts, like a child. 

he leans in, ruffling megumi's hair as he does it. "even if you are pretty annoying, i'll still do some research for you. see about your mom." 

"you don't have to--" 

"i can't pick you up every time you're crying in class," gojo shrugs, so simply. definitely a joke in the words, but no teasing. "and i won't tell y/n. but you should talk to her. she worries." 

"i know." 

gojo smiles. "okay. as long as you know." 

the two of them sit there for a while more, gojo making an awful comment every couple of lapses in silence, megumi answering with an equally sarcastic retort, and the two of them not minding at all. 

and megumi still can't get the question out--are you his mom?--but there's the undeinable feeling that no one else can answer it for him anyway. 

and gojo seems to know that, so he doesn't say anything about it. just lingers there, like an illness, waiting until megumi is okay, or maybe waiting for him to ask something else. 

even though megumi doesn’t want to give the man any credit, he knows that gojo understands a lot more than he lets on. and, just from the weird little prideful looks he gives him every time he says something, megumi knows that he probably gets what this is about.

but if gojo isn’t going to say anything, then neither is he.

still, it’s nice to have him here.

there’s no comforting glances, or squeezing of hands with gojo. no acute words and adept gestures.

megumi has never expected gojo to overcome his tendency towards immaturity, or to become something that he’s simply not.

but there is just this. just the man who’s been there for long enough for megumi to notice. to understand that he’s not going away so easily.

and it’s nice to have you both. (megumi won’t admit that the gratitude he has for his makeshift parents is much stronger, more vehement than any worry about biology, or being left behind).

eventually, megumi's eyes begin to droop, and even though his headache is less stress-induced, it's still there, a gentle pounding at his skull. 

like a reminder that things are going to change, even if he doesn't want them to. that he's growing up, and he can't protect everyone from his emotions forever. 

but megumi doesn't have enough energy to think about it. so he lays down against his pillows, eyelids fluttering open and closed. 

and he can just see it when gojo sneaks out of the room, whistling softly as he leaves, purposefully leaving the door open. 

megumi should've gone to live with that clan. 

*

"hey," you stand from your chair, looking not at satoru, but behind him, like the essence of their conversation is going to follow him through the door. "what'd he want? is he okay?" 

you dance on your feet awkwardly, looking like you were waiting that whole time (you were). 

satoru smiles, leaning on the counter to stare at you, at your nervous little lip bite. "he's fine." 

"is he feeling really sick? he told me he didn't want any medicine, but if he's got a headache or something, then i could give him a pain reliever. did he seem bad? should we take him to the doctor? i can probably schedule an appointment--" 

you're cut off by satoru as he nears you, crushing you against his chest in a hug so tight that it knocks the air from your lungs. 

seriously, jujutsu sorcerers and their sheer amount of muscle training are ridiculous. 

"satoru--" you squeeze out, but he holds you even tighter. 

"it's all good," he says like it's an answer, and he sounds like he knows something that you don't. probably because he does. 

but after a moment you relax into him. even if you have to bribe him with cuddles, someone's going to tell you what's going on... 

*

next part | series masterlist

[averycutesalamander]

AHHH 11! 11! 11!

decided to combine these into one :)

11: Telling them a dumb joke just to see them smile

22: Listening to them while they vent

“And I’m guessin’ he didn’t apologize?” Boothill drawls, working his jaw.

“Of fucking course he didn’t!” you huff, gesticulating wildly. “He acted like I was the one inconveniencing him – like it wasn't his dog that was off-leash and fucking tackling people!”

“Bastard better be glad it didn't hurt ya,” he mutters darkly, “or I'd need to introduce him to my gun.”

You slump down into yourself, pressing your face into your hands and making a frustrated noise, long and loud. He places a comforting hand on your back, tracing slow, gentle circles to soothe you. Finally, you settle, sighing wearily.

“More trouble than it's worth,” you mumble, rubbing at your temples. “I just need to stop thinking about it. There's really nothing else to be done right now.”

Well, if it were up to him, he'd knock on the guy's door and deck him for being a moron, but you never like it when he tries to resolve minor disputes like this with his fists, so he'll let it go – for your sake.

He hums in acknowledgement, examining you for a long moment as silence descends between you. Your shoulders are still tense, and he can hear that your heart rate is still a bit faster than usual, so you're clearly still thinking about it…

Maybe he can give you a hand.

“What's the difference between a piano, a tuna, and a pot of glue?” he suddenly asks, utterly nonchalant.

You go still under his touch, and when you look up from your hands, your expression is completely baffled. “...Is this another one of your weird fucking anecdotes?”

“I ain't tellin’,” he says, a small note of smugness in his voice. “C'mon, guess!”

You scrunch your brows in thought. “Uh… Something about tuning a piano?”

He smirks. “Close. You can tuna piano, but ya can't piano a tuna.”

You snicker, and his heart swells at the sight of your smile. Then, you raise a brow expectantly. “What about the glue?”

His grin widens as he waggles one finger at you. “Ah, I knew you'd get stuck there.”

He watches in open delight as you pause, then burst into laughter, shaking your head and rolling your eyes in playful exasperation. “That's so stupid.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “It made ya laugh, so it did its job.”

You finally straighten your posture, eyeing him fondly for a moment, a little smile on your face. “You're too sweet,” you mumble, a gentle sort of warmth in your eyes.

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Only for you, angel.”

(He'll never get tired of that expression on your face – that look of complete and utter adoration, something quieter than awe but somehow just as grand. He's sure he looks just the same.)

“Hm… What's–” you suddenly snicker, biting your lip in a fruitless effort to keep yourself together. “What's the difference between a garbanzo bean and a chickpea?”

He tilts his head quizzically. “They're the same thing, ain't they?”

“Nope,” you say, broken up by laughter. “I wouldn't pay ten thousand credits to have a garbanzo bean on my face.”

He blinks at you cluelessly for a moment, the gears in his brain churning. Your smile widens even further as you watch his expression shift. In thought, he murmurs, “A chickpea on your…”

The joke hits him all at once, and he bursts into laughter, wild and hearty.

“That's awful!” he laughs, pressing one hand to his face as you snicker.

“It made you laugh,” you sing, bumping his shoulder with yours.

(God, he loves you.)

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, then clears his throat in a futile attempt to compose himself. “So, a cat and a dog were leadin’ a caravan a’ pioneers…”

On and on and on it goes, until the memory of your irritation fades into oblivion and laughter rushes in to fill the gaps.

(He loves your smile too much to let you stay angry for long, after all.)

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[celestialprincesse]

🫧💕

Single mom!reader X Simon Riley cute little post deployment fluff

The moment you see Simon's truck pulling into the shared apartment building parking lot, you're gathering your daughter in one hand and Riley's leash in the other, all whilst being bashed unceremoniously in the face by the 'welcome back' sign your three year old insisted on making with glitter glue pens and heart shaped rhinestones. You'd tried to help her with the spelling, but your unwavering conviction very clearly passed down to her, reflected in the gold glitter lettering of 'wellkum bac' and a child covered in more glitter than her little project. 'No bath mama!' still rings in your ears if you listen hard enough.

Anyone could be fooled into thinking that the grim reaper had come for them at the sight of Simons massive, black clad frame blocking out the already dim light of the hallway - but not you, not your daughter and never Riley. He's already dropping his duffel down by his front door, hoisting your squealing daughter on his hip whilst Riley practically vibrates at his feet with how quickly his tail wags. What you can't get used to, however, is the way you're enveloped into his chest, his masked lips pressing kisses into the crown of your head, Riley's leash dropped so he can lace his free hand through the silky softness of your hair.

"You're back." You hear yourself hum into his chest, letting your fingers curl tight into the old cotton of his henley, reminding yourself that he's here, that he's back and safe. "Are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere?" "Few cuts and scrapes - nothing for you to worry about Love." He rumbles, gently pulling you away from the soft warmth of his chest so that he can take your cheeks in one big palm and look properly at you. "Missed you." Simon admits quietly, allowing himself just a moment of quiet affection whilst your daughter is occupied with grabbing at his mask with her chubby little fingers. "And wha's this?" He turns to look down at the toddler in his arms, pointing at the now crumpled sign she clutches. His smile at her poor spelling and valiant effort is concealed by his balaclava, but you can tell by the way that his brown eyes scrunch at the corners that he's grinning warmly as he drops a kiss on your daughters head, now occupied with Riley's soft ears.

"I made dinner." The sound of your own voice, so full of love and longing, feels foreign to you, as foreign as the concept that you've got someone to make dinner for, someone who cares enough for you and your baby to be a consistent part of your life. "I can bring it over, if you want. I'm sure you're probably desperate for some alone time." You stammer in a poor attempt to not sound so lovesick, a lame play at nonchalance. "Let me drop my stuff and shower and I'll be right 'round." The sound of your daughter whinging as she's handed back to you makes you cringe. Simon lifting his mask to press a tender kiss on the apple of your cheek stops you completely.

𝜗𝜚

They're happening😚 need to commit and give single moms! daughter a name lol

[little-annie]

It's in the kitchen of their shitty little 1.5 bedroom apartment that Eddie Munson continues to bemoan his roommates request for him to watch the 2024 Olympic Games with her this evening.

“Christine Henrietta Cunningham,” he starts with a sigh, wiping the reminentes of yet another YooHoo from his upper lip, leaning a narrow hip against the countertop's edge, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to watch the Olympics.”

Already wearing her team USA sweater, Chrissy tries to protest. Just as she did last night and the night before. For some reason thinking it's such a dire thing that Eddie watches the Olympics this year.

“First of all, not my middle name. Second-”

“You would literally have to glue my eyeballs open.”

“Second-” she tries again, voice stern, pointing a yellowed spoon in Eddie's direction as she dishes up a bowl of Kraft Dinner for them both.

“There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for me to watch juiced up jocks prance around and play any form of sportsball.”

There's so many reasons. Christ. Fuck. So many. But he's not telling Chrissy that. He'll watch the reruns when she's not home. He couldn't possibly be caught dead after last time.

“What about the swim-”

“Not even Gandalf himself,” Eddie interrupts, “-could convince me to waste my precious campaign planning time on such a thing.”

Following Chrissy to the living room, bowl of macaroni in hand, Eddie refuses to sit down next to her on the couch. He's not going to watch. Nope. Maybe sneak a peak in passing? Sure. But not watch. Are you kidding me?

“What a about To-”

The metal spoon that was once in Eddie's hand chatters to the floor as he mock gasps. Neon yellow noodles on the tile that the cat comes running over to clean up, Eddie stands in abject horror. She wouldn't dare.

“Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, Christine. My 2020 not obsession with Tom Daley shan't be spoken of. It was merely a blip in the system. A glitch in the matrix.”

He still thinks Tom Daley can get it. But that's neither here nor there. And what is there, is simply between Eddie and the well used bottle of lotion next to his bed.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, now sitting with her legs crossed on their ugly ass thrifted couch, patting the cushion next to her as if Eddie's a dog. “Eddie you literally watched every one of his ra-”

Races?

“I did not.”

Okay maybe we wanted to. Who wouldn't? But it's not like he obsessively watched every one of the man's races.

“... I missed two.” He admits Inna whisper.

And what a sheer travesty that'd had been

“Oh yeah. You missed two. Oh Edward, how could I forget?” After patting the cushion mindlessly next to her again and eating a spoonful of macaroni she faux whines, “‘Oh Chrissy, would you record the race for me? I don't want to miss it.’”

He doesn't sound like that.

“I do not sound lik-”

All pathetic and whiney? Eddie Munson doesn't sound like that.

“As if I would believe you actually gave two shits about the races you giant homo.” Chrissy rolls her eyes so hard Eddie's surprised she doesn't hurt her neck, “You just liked seeing those boys in spandex.”

Well…. She's not wrong. Sports are dumb. People playing sports for money is dumb. What the Olympics does to those cities in the aftermath of the event is dumb.

But she's not wrong.

Spandex

“…. I hate you”

“No you don't.” She smiles, blowing Eddie a kiss.

“Um. Yes I do.”

As if he could ever hate Chrissy.

Avoiding making eye contact with her as she continues to pat the cushion next to her and turning heel towards the hall, Eddie decides maybe it's just best to eat his supper in his room. Away from jockey spandex and its temptations, “Anyways. As I was saying. Fuck you and your jocky hobbies Chrissy.” Eddie yells from the hall, “My time is far too valuable to be wasted mindlessly drooling over arrogant jocks and their-”

In a sing-songy voice Eddie hears Chrissy call from behind him, “You're gonna want to watch this!”

He groans, turning back around from the journey he'd just started in the direction of his room, “I would rather di-” only to be caught short when a familiar mole dotted, spandex covered ass makes its way across his TV screen.

He'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Went to every goddamn swim meet at the stupid community pool to see that beautiful ass in motion for years.

He fawned over it in the halls of Hawkins High.

Drooled over it on the odd days he actually attended gym class. Tried to solely avoid eye contact with it when he found it bare and within reach in the change rooms only an hour later.

Fuck.

Eddie's knees feel weak and before he knows it he's climbing over the back of the couch, bowl of macaroni in his lap and mirroring Chrissy's position. Legs crossed. Eyes glued to the TV. Mindlessly eating chemicals that some big corporation somehow manages to pass off as macaroni and cheese.

“Is that Steve Harrington?”

Oh look at those moles.

Beautiful.

Those pecs?

Fucking hell.

“Christine!?” Eddie screeches from his position on the couch when Chrissy doesn't answer, just simply shrugs and smirks at him. The little devil. “Did I just see Harrington?”

“Told you, you'd want to see this.”

[anothermansjeans]

I love the idea of YouTube reader and Spencer being like Jenna and Julien, you know that video of Jenna giving Julien fake nails? I totally see reader doing it to Spencer.

He’s like “these come off right?” And reader is like “:) hopefully!”

I GOT MAJOR INSPO FOR SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE VIDEO!! i hope you enjoy (i love these bitches 😭)

cw: acrylic nails, sassy spencer back at it again, reader enjoys making spencer suffer (lovingly ofc), my favorite fictional couple

wc: 877

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“Your fingers are so big.”

“Thanks?”

You laughed as you pressed one of the acrylic tips onto Spencer’s thumb. “I have to push it–” your laughter was cutting you off, “I have to push it all the way down… to fit… your nails.”

Spencer was amused by your hysterical state. You got the video idea from a few of your comments. They were begging for more Spencer and wanted you to put him through the real youtuber boyfriend experience. A few suggested that you'd become good enough at doing your nails to the point where you should do Spencer’s nails and bam! There you were, sitting at your vanity with the camera and acrylic all set up. You’re about five minutes into the video already and you've only glued two nails.

Calming down, you continued to find the right sized nails for him, “you're being a really good sport about this, Spence.”

He was quick with his response, “when is being a good sport going to start benefiting me?”

You laughed again, squeezing his wrist as you placed a drop of glue onto his middle finger. “You'll look even more beautiful.” Placing the tip down, your next words were spoken under your breath, “even if I have to make these tips extra wide.” When the nail was fully on and you began to move on to his ring finger, you felt a small jab at your hand. “Ow!”

“I don't appreciate the comments about my fingers under your breath.” He was being playful and you knew that, but that still stopped you from further comments on his man-hands.

You sped through the gluing process and moved on to priming his nails. Once you got to the actual acrylic part, Spencer flinched. “What are you doing?”

“What?” You slightly panicked, scared you were about to hurt him, but seeing the inquisitive expression on his face made you relax. “You watch me do this all of the time.”

“I just want to know the process.”

“Okay,” you began, dipping the brush in the clear glass in front of you, “I’m dipping the brush in the monomer and gently tapping in on the paper towel to get the excess off. Now, I'm aiming to pick up a bead of acrylic powder, and place it on your nail.”

As you were doing what you were saying, Spencer furrowed his brows. “On my nail? Like, my real nail?”

“Mhmm. Then we’re going to let it dry.”

“So when I take it off will it be close to ripping my nail off?”

His scared expression caused you to suck your lips to your teeth. “Yes?”

He stared at you for a moment before speaking, “the rational part of my brain knows you're playing it up but this is uncharted territory for me so I’m not sure what to expect.”

You laughed and let him know it would be okay before continuing the process and allowing them to dry. When they were done, Spencer was wiggling his fingers and getting a feel for the nails. “I hate it. It’s extremely uncomfortable and I don't understand how you could do anything with these. I already respected you, but I think I have a lot more now.”

You smiled earnestly at his remark, and noticed his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. His reflexes caused him to push them up, one finger from each hand on either side of his glasses secured them back in place, and you couldn't help but laugh once again.

“What?” He didn't understand how his actions made him look.

“You looked the amount of sassy that you are.”

“I am not sassy!”

“Yes,” you began, still laughing, “yes you are.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, holding out his hands to glance down at the nails. “We’re lucky I haven't been called in. Could we take these off now?”

Biting your bottom lip, you gave a cheeky smile. “Yeah… we just have to run to the drug store really quick to grab some acetone.”

“We?” His eyes were big, pleading with you.

“Spencer… it's dark out and I’m not driving to the drug store that is less than 600 feet away. You wouldn't leave me to walk the D.C streets at night by myself, would you?” You knew you got him the moment you mentioned the time of day. Looking at the camera, you smiled and addressed your followers. “We’re going to jump cut to me taking these nails off of Spencer. I think I’ve tortured him enough. He isn’t built for the acrylic lifestyle.”

“I could be!”

“You wanna keep those on?”

“No,” his answer was automatic, again, causing you to laugh.

You cut the camera before grabbing your bag and putting on your shoes, watching Spencer struggle with his Converse from your peripheral. “Come on, lover boy, you never know when you're gonna get called in.” You began to walk out of the room but heard him grumble. “What was that?”

You turned around and smirked at his defeated expression. “Can you help?” He said it a little louder, but still quiet. Shaking your head, you walked over to him. With or without the acrylics, he was truly the sassiest man you knew, and you loved him for it.

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[breathinlove]

glue 002 ellie williams imagine

read this

sinopse: you might have a crush on your friend, college!au

cw: swearing, basically fluff, ellie plays soccer, puppy love again because that's my thing, slightly nerdy loser!ellie, reader and ellie are oblivious, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not exactly proofread.

you had been up all morning, not up really, awake. it was 11:43 when you actually got up, sick to your core. niyah had checked on you before she left for her classes, leaving you some cash for lunch, it's not like you didn't have any but niyah just felt like a mom sometimes. she also gave you a forehead kiss.

you rubbed your eyes while your other hand hugged your aching stomach. you grabbed your phone and squinted at the brightness of the screen.

“shit fuck.” you hissed, boy did your head hurt. you had suspicions that ellie had made so much nervousness pile up in you that it was threatening to explode your head and your poor stomach.

you had always been a little… anxious and got nervous when you hung out with new people, especially without your best friends. they were your safe space, you smiled sweetly thinkin about them, so you read over the texts on your group chat ‘take ur meds’. never the instagram one, because it's just your friend luana spamming instagram reels.

you laughed at your phone, turning it off just to wait for your friends to show up, you knew they would. you grabbed a piece of fruit and sat down again.

you grabbed your little notebook where you did all of your journaling, you always read some pieces before actually writing in it, so you did that. ‘ellie’ this ‘ellie’ that, from just last night before you got sick. but maybe you had already been sick from the moment she stepped into the room.

sick in your stomach, crippling nervousness. you and ellie hung out so much 1 on 1, so you assumed that's what happens when two anxious people get together to talk alone, even though you had known each other for a while now. you didn't give it much thought, well maybe you did. you wrote in pink ink...

‘she's so cute’ ummm late night thoughts were so funny to read over, right? just hilarious. ‘ellie williams #8’ adorned with stars and hearts? you were already sick last night, for sure!

on the other side of campus, ellie was at class but her mind was on the same side of campus as yours. ellie was very much in tune with her feelings for you, she'd say. ‘we're so awkward, we need to get closer!’ that's all you two needed, right? just that. she sighted, you looked at her adorned name in your notebook, she imagined your face adorned with flowers and asteroids?

she needs to pay attention in class! she'll think about you later, she wants to text you but she'll see you at lunch anyways so she decides against the text. ellie tried her best to focus on her boring class, impatiently waiting to see you again.

abby had texted you a few to let you know she was coming over, she was your childhood friend, inseparable at that. caring and loving, gentle giant abigail anderson. she was now on your carpet in front of you bed.

“so, did you take your meds?” she laughed, abby was a med student and definitely a good one but damn her she didn't know shit about pharmacy.

they might’ve teached her some of it, but this girl had very selective memory, it's not like you know what they teach at med school anyway. but you still thought she should cure you everytime you got sick, all your other friends agreed too.

“yep, i looked it up. turns out my friend being in med school doesn't serve me anything.” you stretched my leg to touch her with your feet and she gave you a disgusted look.

“you're such a bitch to me, i came to see you, sick girl.” she grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you with no force.

“abbyyy!” you laughed and tried yanking your feet back and she used more of her strength. she laughed with you and you felt less sick.

you two kept it up until you were falling off your bed onto her, she grabbed your torso, manhandling you so you looked at her. she looked mischievous, she had something up her sleeve.

“how's our favorite soccer star?” she smirks and you look scared, head jumping up and hitting hers. “hey! ouch lil girl…”

she soothed her head before soothing yours, with harsh pats... you weren't sure if she was soothing you or actively making it worse. you both laughed again, what the hell was wrong with you? you had slipped out of her thighs and sat on the carpet, right next to her.

“she's…” you coughed. “she's alright, i saw her yesterday.” you nodded to yourself and abby nodded back.

“right… right…” abby stared at you, smirk still in her lips, waiting for something.

you thought of what she might’ve wanted you to say. you used your brain so much that you realized something, eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed.

"what? you look like you developed your first thought.” she chuckled and you looked frightened.

“i forgot to tell her i'm sick.” you searched for your phone around the carpet and the bed.

“why would you have to tell her?” abby leaned back, watching you look for you phone.

"you know, even if she was a nurse in your wet dream, i don't think she can help.” she added when you ignored her.

“abby.” you actually slapped her nape and she hissed. “we were supposed to have lunch together, i don't wanna be rude and leave her hanging.”

“oooohh you're bailing her on your lunch date.” abby loved pressing your buttons and she knew which ones to press.

“yeah, our date at the campus cafeteria, abigail.” you found your phone under a pillow, one that you were sure you checked before. whatever, you texted ellie.

“abigail is crazyyy…” abby got up and peeped your phone from behind and you pushed her face, the fat on her cheek smushed. “sweetness, let me see.”

abby had a big sweet tooth growing so when you became friends, her dad started calling you tooth and sweetness, since she could never get enough of you. she clinged to it even now, when she was being nice but really often when she pissed you off.

“fine, tooth.” you caressed the cheek you had pushed. she laughed and playfully bit your shoulder as you turned off your phone.

“it's fine, y/n. she'll understand, of course.” abby slurred, you turned to her.

“yeah, i know. i wanted to see her though.” you rubbed your nose sitting on the carpet again, followed by abby.

“you'll see her soon, it's alright.” she patted your head and you looked at her blankly. “what? don't wanna see me too?” she pushed you head and snickered.

“i do, stop abby!” you laughed, pushing her back.

“you gotta crush and now you're gonna abandon me and lua.” she shook her head. “you won't abandon niyah because you live with her, but who knows! you might move in with ellie.”

“what are you even talking about?” you chuckled at her while she tried to maintain a serious face. “i'm not abandoning anyone.”

"AHA! so you do have a crush on ellie, lil girl…” she laughed loud, slapping her knee, now it was your turn to maintain a serious face while she laughed.

“first, you’re not funny. second, i don't have a crush on anyone.” she arched her eyebrow you held her temples, pressing her eyebrows back to their place. “stop, i don't”.

“be for real with me, pookie wookie.” you cringed hard with her.

“you can leave.” you both laughed so loud until she stopped and tapped your lap. “but she makes me nervous.”

“i know she does, might be something, don't you think?”

“mmm, i don't think so, we're both pretty anxious people so…” you shrugged and abby did too, she'd never pry.

“you might be right, time will tell.” she casually says as gets up. “you wanna order some? “i'm hungry.” you nod and she takes her phone out.

ellie on the other hand, is frowning at your texts, she's upset she won’t see you and she's upset you're sick. she immediately texted her friends dina and jesse about it, asking to have lunch with them instead.

she'd waited for them to meet up with her on campus, holding her phone. she wanted to text you again, but you probably needed rest so she opted out to spam texting cat, who wouldn't reply to the groupchat texts. cat was a fucking ghost most of the times, even when they dated... girl gets busy. when dina and jesse finally got there they walked together.

“y/n bailed on you, damn.” jesse shook his head ironically and dina rolled her eyes.

“shut up, jesse.” dina tickled his ear and smirked. they were walking towards the local subway.

“yeah shut up, she's sick dude.” ellie replied, with little to no humor.

her friends noticed. her hands were in her jeans pockets and she was looking down, jesse and dina knew her all to well to know she was even just slightly upset. childhood friends are like that, you'd know. abby was exactly like that with you.

“what's wrong?” jesse asked, palming her shoulder. dina stopped walking but ellie kept going, making them get back to walking too.

“nothin’. it's dumb, i just miss y/n or whatever.” ellie slurred, looking at her sneakers. jesse and dina chucked and she snickered.

“okay, okay. my bad.” jesse looked sternly at dina so she'd stop laughing. “you had plans?”

“actually yeah, i was gonna invite her to see me play saturday.” she looked up.

“it's wednesday, man. you can ask her later.” jesse started. “right?” he looked for ellie's eyes.

“as in a date?” dina asked, not afraid to. ellie was always open with them, she wasn't embarrassed by her feelings even though sometimes she was confused.

“nah, not a date. and yes i can ask later, but i get nervous and… i dunno.” she held her fingers as she sighed.

“just say it, els.” dina chuckled, jesse and ellie chuckled back.

“yeah, alright. i want her to see me play but i get nervous to ask and i thought i’d do it today.” ellie laughed at herself. dina and jesse nodded, they understood her.

“it's alright, you will ask. don't worry, she's gonna be thrilled.” jesse slapped ellie's back and dina looked at him in disgust.

"thrilled" dina mocked jesse, holding her fingers up as quotes.

they all busted out laughing as they got closer to the subways shop, talking about the saturday game, but never distracted ellie from the thoughts of you.

taglist: @mikellie @amberputh @ellslvr @elliesactualgirlfriend @macaroni676 @onlinelesbo @aispike @kalyxvfx @ellieschair

[studiogrimm810]

Sober After-Thought

pairings/characters: sam winchester x gn!you, dean is also there

summary: part 2 of Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts, you're extremely hungover and sam takes care of you :,)

warnings: fluff, hangover, minor feeling of being a burden, disorientation, dean being a bully (playful)

word count: 1,702

A/N: pls send requests if you want, i'd love to hear what ya got ^.^

———————

You awoke with an insane thirst drying out your mouth that made your tongue almost feel sticky. You were quickly then greeted by a skull-throbbing headache and an uncomfortable tickle in the back of your throat that made you feel nauseous.

Sun was shining through the moth-eaten curtains, displaying patches of light scattered like spots along the comforter covering you.

You roll over onto your back and feel the recoil from the wave of pain around you as it tugs on your headache. You wince softly and place a hand to your forehead, trying to settle the spinning. There’s shuffling footsteps and then a soft clink on the table next to you.

“Mornin’,” Sam’s voice calls to you. You open your eyes to look up at him, the sunshine illuminating him like a halo. Your chest feels warm as you look up at him but the stabbing pain in your skull prevents you from smiling.

You groan in response which earns a soft chuckle from him that rattles though your ears and hurts so good.

“I brought you water, and you should take these,” Sam speaks again and you turn to look at his outstretched hand. You try to sit up but the bed is a sticky trap that you just can’t seem to unglue yourself from. You let yourself slump back down with a painful pout.

Sam chuckles again, the sound warming through you again- maybe even melting away some of the glue.

“C’mon,” Sam says, reaching out to help you up and you let him. He settled you against the bed frame and handed you the glass of water. You take the water and quickly down half of the glass. “Save some for these,” he advises, handing you two green capsules and you readily take them and pop them into your mouth. You finish off most of the water before setting it back down and resting your head against the wall behind you.

“What the hell?” You groan out in a huff of breath. Through your squinted eyes you see that Sam hasn’t stopped smiling amusedly which would annoy you a tad but the dimple he’s showcasing makes your chest tighten with affection.

“You tried to out-drink Dean and now you’re paying for it,” he explains, sitting on the bed next to you and clasping his hands together.

“Oh god,” you cringe, rubbing your forehead trying to ease the pain, “I’m so sorry, Sam,” you apologize, refusing to look him in the eyes.

“What? Why?” Sam asked, confused as to why you felt guilty and too embarrassed to even look at him.

“That you had to walk my drunk ass home,” you yawned, still rubbing your forehead.

“It’s really not a problem,” Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes on you as you scoff and he scooted a bit closer. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, you had fun and needed a little help- I don’t mind.” He doesn’t leave any room for you to argue before changing the subject, “Are you hungry?”

“M-mm,” you decline, the thought of food making you nauseous.

“I’ll get you more water,” he says, grabbing the glass and walking to refill it.

“Where did Dean end up anyways?” You ask, only getting patches of memories from last night “I feel like everything cut off after that clown story.”

Sam returns with more water and another chuckle at the mention of that story again. You accept the glass but wait a minute before drinking more, “Dean went home with that girl you both were eyeing.”

You vaguely remember a beautiful brunette woman with a snake tattoo wrapped up her arm and completely shimmering with jewelry and piercings that caught both yours and Dean's attention. Good for him- you think with a small smirk.

“He texted not too long ago saying he’s gonna pick up breakfast, told him you’d be hungry,” Sam said, checking his phone. “And you really should eat something when he gets back, it’ll help,” he nods, setting his phone aside and looking you over. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Like shit,” you say without missing a beat, letting your hand fall by your side after setting your glass down and turning to look at him better. “I wanna brush my teeth, my mouth feels awful,” you frown and Sam chuckles with a small nod.

“I bet,” he reaches for your toiletries bag and hands it out to you, “wanna freshen up?”

You nod and sit up, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed and taking it slow as your body still feels like it’s moving at 10 FPS.

“Do you need a hand?” Sam asks, keeping an eye on your disoriented sway. You both knew you’re a lightweight and trying to keep up with Dean was not the brightest idea- inevitably ending up with the most unbearable hangover.

“Maybe,” your face flushed with embarrassment and you wanted to decline his help out of stubbornness but he was quick to help you steady yourself and the feeling of him pressed so close to you makes your mind go blank. He even grabs your bag for you which makes you balance the line between flattery and shame even more.

On one hand, you’re unbelievably appreciative of the way Sam is taking care of you but on the other, you feel such a deep rooted sense of shame and embarrassment at needing the help in the first place.

“You really outdid yourself,” Sam joked, which earned a soft scoff from you.

“No one thought to tell me it wasn’t a competition?” You lean against the bathroom sink as you get there and fish for your toothbrush.

“You were just having fun, honey. Besides, you wouldn’t have listened anyways,” he said, the pet name slipping from his lips so naturally that he didn’t even notice it- but you did.

“I’ve certainly had my fair share of regretful nights at the hands of Dean's tolerance,” Sam says, hoping that you’ll loosen up the strict grip you seem to have over yourself.

“Never again,” you grumble, starting to brush your teeth and Sam goes back into the main room to give you some privacy.

After your teeth, you brush your hair and wash your face. You also are starting to feel the effects of the medicine, and between that and getting cleaned up you’re a lot more like yourself now.

You trudge back to your bed and feel another pit of guilt swell up, “oh Sam, I’m sorry, I stole your bed,” you frown sadly, remembering how insistent he was to give it to you last night on multiple occasions.

“Stop that,” Sam shrugs with a kind smile, “I laid you there. Besides, I just took Dean’s bed,” he said like it was no problem at all. You sigh softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You really need to lighten up a bit,” Sam says, watching you with his ‘hurtful understanding’ eyes- the ones that recognize the self-deprecation in others.

You know he’s right, there’s just something about being taken care of that makes you feel like a burden.

The motel door opens, letting fresh light flood in the room followed by a mouth-watering waff of sweet breakfast food that makes your stomach growl and completely change your previous stance on food.

Dean walks right in and sets down the bag of food and rolls up his sleeves, “Mornin’!” He beams with a shiny smile. His chipper attitude makes you wanna throw your cup of water at him just to get him to turn off. Dean notices your reaction which only makes him more cheery.

“Ah, someone reached their limit last night, huh?” Dean jokes, pulling out a kitchen chair and plopping down in it.

“Shut up,” you mumble, laying your head in your hands.

“C’mon, I got your favorite, hash brown bowl with bacon and tomatoes - just barely nutritious enough to warrant a meal,” Dean says, pulling out your order and placing it across from himself. You glare at him but make your way towards the box that seems to tunnel your vision like a spotlight on the food. A part of you warms at the fact he remembers your order.

Sam took the remaining seat and opened his own box, the sound of squeaking styrofoam makes you cringe and you sigh in annoyance.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles with a small curl to his lips.

“Drink a bit too much, huh?” Dean teases with a full mouth of food, the smacking sound of his food making you cringe again.

“No,” you blatantly lie, stabbing some hashbrowns and tomatoes and bringing them to your mouth.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Dean pretends to agree, entertaining your lie while taking another bite.

“Glad to see you’re completely unaffected,” you say sarcastically, “what the hell is with that anyways? You’re like ten years older than me,” you complain, stabbing more food.

“Hey, I’m seven years older than you,” Dean defends, “besides, I can handle my liquor, it’s the only gift god gave me,” Dean jokes, taking a gulp of coffee and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Whatever,” you groan, taking a sip of your own coffee after being reminded by Deans.

“You feelin’ any better?” Sam asks halfway through his own breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks for the Advil,” you smile weakly at him while resting your forehead in your hand and picking at your food, “and the water, and- well everything,” you yawn, still feeling exhausted.

Sam can’t help but look at you with such adoration. Something about how domestic this all was made him swell with love and appreciation for the moment. Sure, you were still struggling with a hangover and a short temper due to Dean's doing, but he found your reaction hilariously justified. But here he sat with his brother and you- the two most important people in his life- and everything was calm, normal.

He would take care of you after a hangover any day- hell, he would take care of you period.

‘Maybe that meant something…’ the thought brought a nervous tickle to his abdomen, but another groan of annoyance from you in response to something Dean did dissolves that focus and he’s lost on you again.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[libby-for-life]

Good morning, Libby! If you aren't to be busy, I was wondering if you could do a request for me?

Lucifer and Adam having been getting close lately, but not close to how they were back in Eden, because Adam do not trust him enough to let his walls down (and the fact the the guy still wears his wedding ring isn’t helping) But here's the thing, Adam and Alastor have been getting close as well, some would say closer than Adam and Lucifer. So when Lilith comes back and Lucifer sticks her like glue and Adam has so many emotions about this(hurt but not surprised, disappointed, etc.), so he goes to Alastor for comfort and they just cuddle for the rest of the day, until it's time for Dinner and everyone is raising eyebrows on what's going on between the two of them and why Alastor is acting gentle with Adam.

Jealous Lucifer, even though he has no right to be, like dude your Wife is right there 🙄

Basically Lucifer missing his chance as he watch Adam getting flustered and smiling so brightly and Lucifer isn't the cause of it.

You can do whatever you want with Lilith, I can care less about her, if I'm being honest

Ooohhhh, I like that. AngelicRadio.

Adam felt like the relationship between Lucifer and him was finally getting better. Not everything was healing, but it was a start. Adam could smile at Lucifer and not feel like he wanted to throw up. Progress, right? Okay, it was more than that. He knew he had at least sexual feelings for Lucifer.

The caressing while no one was looking was probably a good indicator that Lucifer somewhat felt the same too.

Charlie seemed to be happy with their development.

Adam was currently cooking with Alastor weirdly enough. Despite how bad they started, Alastor and Adam had grown closer to the point that they weren't growling at each other's throats.

"Hmmm. I think this needs more cumin. What do you think, dear?" Adam blushed at the nickname and his mouth opened slightly to accept the soup offered. It was good. Definitely needed....something. Okay, so Adam wasn't the best at cooking. That's why Adam was being taught by Alastor.

"Whatever the fuck is good with you." Adam shrugged only to have his ass swatted with the wooden spoon Alastor was stirring with.

"Ah!" Adam yelped and glared at the damn deer demon who looked far too pleased with himself.

"No swearing in my kitchen, lamb." Alastor reprimanded. Adam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't sure that would have earned him another swat.

"Yeah, fine." He wasn't sure what kind of relationship they had other than it was....friendly he guessed.

Everything changed when, in a drunk stupor, Lucifer kissed Adam. It led to some heavy pawing before the First Man tried to make him stop. "Wait-" kiss. "You're drunk-" kiss. "This is going too-" Kiss. Adam whimpered when his ear was pulled and Lucifer growled. "Let me have you."

Adam was railed that night.

Adam and Lucifer regularly had sex. Adam liked it but he kind of wished Lucifer was a bit more accommodating with how rough he could be. But it had been months. Adam was wanting something...more.

He was prepared for it. He wanted to confess his feelings. Only, the day Adam wanted to confess, Lilith came back. He had forgotten how insufferable she was. Lucifer was all over her the moment she came. Showering his former wife with attention and love that Adam had been pining for about a month.

So all that sex...was just sex. Why was he surprised? He was never anyone's first choice.

He walked away from the happy couple, feeling tears gather in the corner of his eyes.

Adam wasn't really watching where he was going so he was surprised when he bumped into someone and they grabbed him to keep him from falling.

"Adam?" Alastor said. The deer demon is looking at him with...concern? Adam could feel himself shake. "Come now, dear. Let's you get you out of the hall." Adam allowed himself to be guided away. Soon, the First Man found himself in a room he had only been in once. Alastor's room.

The deer demon was notoriously private. Barely anyone was allowed into the walls Alastor had made for himself.

He was sat down on a couch and to Adam's complete surprise, brought into thin but strong arms. "Now. Care to tell me what made you cry?"

"It's...stupid." A hand rubbed his back making Adam relax a bit. "If it made you cry, then it's important. Won't you tell me, lamb?" Adam looked up at Alastor to see the deer demon looking so concerned.

Everything spilled out. How he had his first night with Lucifer while the former archangel was drunk. How the man had sex with him and how Adam had wanted something more but when Lucifer's wife came, the devil was all over her. Like what they did ment nothing.

Adam was full-on sobbing. "I hate myself, Alastor. I'm never anyone's first choice. I'm always left behind or at best an afterthought. It happened in Eden and Heaven. And now, with Lucifer again."

The entire time Alastor was silent, rubbing his back and softly rocking the bigger demon. Adam was done. He bared his heart out and he was prepared for the worst.

"Adam. I need you to look at me." Adam looked at Alastor, trembling like a newborn lamb. His eyes were still filled with tears and the lamb demon gasped softly as they were rubbed away.

"For too long, you were cast aside. Adam, you're more than just an afterthought. You have so much depth. So many layers and if people took the time to get to them, they would find a sweet little lamb at the center. A wonderful, intelligent, green-thumbed demon with a love for animals."

Adam was sobbing now. "How can you say all that?"

Alastor smiled gently and cupped Adam's chubby cheeks. "Because it's true." He kissed the lamb on the forehead. Adam blushed a brilliant yellow and hid himself in Alastor's chest causing the smaller demon to chuckle.

"There's that sweet lamb. My lamb."

They stayed in each other's arms the entire night.

The next morning, Adam was prepared for the cold shoulder. Just because they cuddled doesn't mean they were exclusive by any means.

He squeaked in surprise when Alastor pulled out his chair for him before he could even sit down.

"For you, my ange."

Alastor chuckled at Adam's expression.

"Alastor? What's going on?" Alastor tilted his head. "Why I don't know what you mean." Alastor sat beside Adam and served him breakfast making him blush even harder.

Alastor couldn't help but smirk when he felt the smoldering glare being sent his way. The devil didn't know how to conceal his temper. Honestly, what did he even have to be jealous of?

Rhetorical question. The short king had everything to be jealous of. Alastor had a sweet little lamb who wouldn't hesitate to be loyal and loving if given the chance. All Lucifer had was a woman who wanted nothing more than his meager power. Once she had gotten what she wanted, Alastor wouldn't be surprised if she left once more. The women was the definition of a gold digging snake.

Was the pathetic man writhing in anger? He hoped so. Because Alastor was never letting Adam go. He kissed his lamb's head who blushed so prettily.

[shinyac0re]

━━ 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 ¡! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ━━━

( note: pls remember englisch is not my first language and there may be some grammar mistakes !)

★ angst, fighting, bad language, based on my smau „ Them still being in love w their ex !¡ “

Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You thought it was going to leap out of your chest and fall to the floor just right before your feet. Your body didn't move at all, as if it was no longer under your control. As if someone had pressed the pause button.

Your eyes starting slowly to burn and form crystal clear tears. One or two tears even made their way down your cheeks. Leaving a trace of smudged mascara with them.

Your heart broke into probably a million pieces. And you knew no glue in the whole world could stick them back together. Not even Satoru, who would always make sure to take care of your heart and put a bandage around it if it was hurt, could put the pieces together this time. Because he is the reason your heart broke in first place.

Your hand trembled. But not just your hand. Most likley your whole body. Still holding the thin piece of paper which caused your world to breake.

You never knew why everybody around you would glaze at you with that guilty eyes. But now you know. Because everybody knew and no one told you about it.

They knew the way Satoru would look at her. As if she’s the brightest star in the dark blue night sky. Just as if they were meant to be.

You would rather put the letter there where it was hidden, instead of talking with Satoru about it. You wanted to pretend not knowing about it.

But now it’s too late. Your tears already dropped onto the thin paper sheet. Causing the ink to smudge or completely disappear. You couldn’t turn back, no matter how much you wanted to.

Your carefully let your eyes wander all over the letter again. Only being able to see half of it since your view was blurred thanks to the tears. But maybe it was better this way, otherwise it would’ve just hurt to much.

„…please contact me again…“

„… sometimes late at night I still sit at our fav spot…“

„… I hope we meet again. But this time, the right time…“

„… I never wanted to lose you…“

„… I still think about you when I smell your perfume in public places because someone is wearing the same one as you…“

„ …In love, your Satoru…“

It was clearly his handwriting. You just knew it to well. The way he‘d put a little wing at the end of his name has betrayed him.

How could you be this blind?

Not being able to see that the person you love, loving someone else. You now knew Satoru would never love you as much as he loves her.

You suddenly hear the door shut. Which must’ve caused your body to be under your control again. » Baby? You home?« You hear his voice. Not answering you stand still at the place you found the letter. Y’alls bedroom.

» Hello? darling?« you hear his footsteps coming closer. With every step closer, you’re getting more nervous and anxious about what is to happen. You would love to run out of this situation. But your legs won’t move.

The door opens and it feels like it’s happening in milliseconds.

You see his white hair, the light pink lips, his sharp jawline and the cheeky grin he‘d always wear on his face in the corner of your eye.

» Hey why didn’t you answer?« he asks. He straight goes to his closet. He hasn’t seen yet that your standing there silently crying. Gripping that letter to find some hold, even tho it feels like the paper is burning into your skin. Just like the words Satoru wrote on it are burnt into your brain.

» Love is everything alright?« he comes near to you, trying to look at your face. But you can’t stop looking at the wall. His eyes slowly move to your Hand. The letter almost completely crumbled because of how thight your grip is.

» May I ask what your holding onto like your life depends on it.« he laugh’s. Not knowing he got caught.

Not knowing that Y/n is crying, because he can’t see her face. Her hair also hiding it like its a curtain and Y/n tries to hide behind it.

But suddenly your curtains moves. Revealing your red eyes and crying face. You can’t overhear how Satoru suddenly sucks in air as if it were his last breath.

» Hey love, what’s wrong?« he looks at you all worried. But the fact that this is all fake won’t leave your head. How should that even be possible.

You still stay quiet. Swallowing down all the words laying on your tongue. You can’t find the perfect words. Maybe because they don’t exist.

» Hey, you know you can talk with me right? I‘m not a stranger, we‘ve been together for over a year know.«

…“we‘ve been together for over a year know.“ those words replay in your head for a continuous loop. For over a year he‘s pretending to love you, when he was still in love with her. Telling you everyday, he loves you more than anything, knowing it was a lie.

Finally your able to move. You just show him the letter. Holding it directly into his face.

He needs some time to realize what your‘re holding in you’re Hand. And when he does, his ice blue eyes widen in disbelief. His mouth open without saying anything.

And now the anger takes over Y/n. » We‘re done.« is all you say before going to the closet they both share to get some of your stuff. Satoru just watching you unable to do anything because of the shook.

» Y/n wait! Please let me explain!« you stay quite. Shaking your head as an answer. » Please Y/n I‘ll explain it to you! You know- the letter is really old!«

You close your eyes. Trying to hold back tears. You won’t allow them to stream down your face. This is ridiculous. Is all you could think about. » Satoru, it’s over. Should I spell it for you?« you ask him with a tone of anger and disbelief.

His eyes are filled with tear’s. You laugh a bit because of that. He never really loved you, at least not as much es he loves her. But he still as tear’s in his eyes. » I can’t believe you did this.« you mumble to yourself while packing some of your clothes into a bag.

As you’re finished, you’re about to leave. » Satoru move.« you say and watch him not moving. He’s staying in the doorframe. » Y/n please, we can talk about. You know, like always when something bad happens.«

Your heart cracks a little more. Your sure you could hear it loud and clear in your ear. And if Satoru listened closely he could’ve heard it to. His words brought memories back to your mind.

How the two of you sat at a park bank together. The night sky filled with stars. He handed you his jacket as soon as he saw you were freezing. You talked about how scared you are because of his job. Because what if he wouldn’t come back one day.

This was your biggest fear. Getting a call from nanami. Telling you Gojo didn’t made it. He would never entered your house again or come to your bedroom to cuddle you. You were scared he wouldn’t comeback just for you to leave him now.

You take a deep breath. » No, there is nothing to talk about. You love her. Why would you want me to be in a one-sided relationship?—« you arch your eyebrow. »— You have two days to pack all of your shit, then I never want to see you again.«

This were your last words to him. Letting him stand there in silence while leaving him forever.

━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━━

| likes n reblogs r appreciated ! request always open !

[g0ry0re0]

Billy (Burn, 2019) - Headcanons

Description: [18+ MDNI] AU where Billy survives the film's events and settles down with you in a secluded town. You start a small garden, build a tiny chicken coop, and raise some kids together. / Billy x GN!Reader

General Notes: Random Headcanons/Moments, No Mention Of Conception/Adoption (it’s completely up for interpretation), No Mention Of Your Children’s Gender, Use Of “Daddy” (in reference to Billy), The Word “Parent” Is In Reference To The Reader, Mention/Eating of Candy, Mention Of Billy’s Burn On His Face (film), Purely Lighthearted, Light Amount Of Cursing, Mention Of Smoking

Author’s Note: Feeling domestic as hell and I was having trouble with my other fic so I decided to have fun instead. :) Thank you to @killerpixel for inspiring and creating some of these with me! Enjoy. <3 <3 Word Count/Bullet Point Count: 1,120 Words/51 Bullet Points

Your kids decide to draw with chalk on the driveway and Billy can’t bring himself to hose it off (that is until it rains), so he parks his shitty Camry on the dirt instead to make sure it doesn’t get messed up

He keeps a drawer full of their crafts/drawings, he does not have the heart to throw them out and probably never will

One of the crafts is literally a bent paperclip colored with red marker

Billy helps a lot in the garden and with the chickens, so the kids make him a set of “tools” out of paper and glue for him to use when he works (this made him cry)

He sings badly for them to help them sleep and tells them bedtime stories in funny voices, he gets embarrassed when you overhear him [thank @xcherryerim for this one <3]

When the kids are old enough, they eventually ask him about the burn on his face and he makes a different joke every time

“Oh, I was riding my motorcycle and a monster that hates motorcycles attacked me! Don’t ride motorcycles unless daddy takes you, okay?”

“Stop! You’re going to scare them, Billy!” “Okay, fine… So anyway, then a giant humanoid moth came out- ”

“Daddy, you met mothman?!” “Yeah, I met mothman! Your parent was actually married to mothman when I met them.” “Billy!” “You have moth-baby sisters and brothers.” “Billy, I’m leaving you and I’m taking the kids.”

The next day he makes mothman shaped pancakes, it becomes a running gag in the family

He manages to find mothman costumes for the kids for Halloween that year, so there are a bunch of tiny mothman’s running around the house and neighborhood

When you and Billy take them trick-or-treating that night, he has to (reluctantly) stop them from scaring the other kids on purpose (he is laughing the entire time)

Billy absolutely takes advantage of the “candy tax” and eats some of their candy as he looks through it, much to their disappointment

“I need to make sure there’s no poison!”

“Aww man, that one was poisoned…”

He pretends to collapse on the ground and scares the shit out of your children

Once they realize he’s messing with them, they dogpile on him and he looks to you for help

“I’m being crushed to death.” “Good, you deserve it.”

Soon after, the kids pass out on the couch surrounded by candy and still in their mothman onesies where Billy carries them all to their beds and kisses their little chocolate-covered foreheads

They definitely wake up sick the next morning from eating too much candy (he let them so you make him clean up after their mess)

Circling back to his burn, he’s applying scar gel/treatment on his face and he explains to his kids that it helps his face heal and stops it from hurting

They immediately start applying all of the cream to his face frantically and he lets them

“If I put more on, it’ll stop hurting faster!” “That’s not how that works, my love.”

“Daddy’s dying!” “No! It’s okay! I feel so much better now, baby, you helped so much!”

Before you know it, the entire tube is gone and Billy’s face and neck smell entirely of aloe vera

“I fixed daddy’s face!” “Hmm… I don’t know, I think it needs more lotion. The other half is still a little funny-looking.” “Hey!”

Billy is folding the laundry and putting it away when he puts his own underwear on his head to make the kids laugh, soon they all put their clean underwear on their heads and take a selfie to send to you

Billy is giving one of your babies a bath and he gives them a funny little soap beard to show you while giggling

Very shortly after, the baby flicked soap into his eye

“Babe, my eye burns now.” “Aww, just like the rest of your face…”

One day, he takes the kids for a ride on his motorcycle (they were small enough to sit in front of him and he went at 5 mph up the street and back) and you got mad at him anyway

To make up for it, you make him pamper you for the next week (more than he does normally somehow)

Despite how terrified you were, your kid looked really cute in that big ass helmet

When it snows, he dresses up the kids and plays with them, building snowmen and pouring snow down the back of your sweater (this gets him in trouble again)

One time he threw a snowball at the back of one of your kids' heads, it was very small and mostly cushioned by the hood of their jacket but they went down face-first into the snow anyway

He was trying so hard to hold back his laugh as he helped them back up

He’s shoveling snow from the driveway one day and accidentally tosses some onto one of your toddlers

He feels really bad until the kid laughs and he does it again

Billy takes the kids to a community waterpark during the summer with his fake denim print swim trunks and they push him into the water

They’re playing marco polo and he loses sight of them for a total of 3 seconds because they decided to hide under the lawn chairs (he cries when you and him go to bed that night)

He also made sure the kids were absolutely slathered in sunblock when they went, but he forgot to put some on himself

The burn on his face gets irritated because of this and it makes me a little grumpy for the next few days, which leads one of your kids to bring him a flower from your garden

“It’ll make daddy’s red half feel better.”

He keeps the flower in his wallet until it turns to dust

One of your kids’ first words is your name, which kind of makes Billy jealous

The same kid takes their first steps toward him later on and Billy brags about it for the next year

Billy tries to quit smoking as soon as you start raising kids, but he still smokes outside sometimes when they’re not around

One time, one of them catches him and he can’t think of a good explanation for what he’s doing

“Oh, this? Uhh… it helps, um, with daddy’s… anger issues and stuff. It calms him down.”

The next day, at breakfast, your kid turns to you worried and a little sad

“Daddy turns into a dragon when he’s angry. Is he gonna eat me?”

Billy immediately throws out his last pack and doesn’t touch a cigarette for a long time after that

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr Gif: lomapacks on tumblr

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

everybody shut up and imagine nobleflower and quillkiller beginning AFTER andromeda runs away with ted (no don't ask me about timelines and shit !!)

like narcissa was the way too uppity-uppity quiet one, and bellatrix was just TOO MUCH in every aspect and andromeda was balance. she was the fun, the glue, the life of the party, the charmer, the golden girl! and she left!! and both narcissa and bellatrix felt betrayed. (imagine they were all still hogwarts age atp even if it doesn't make sense ty) she left for a muggle-born no less! narcissa misses the balance and freedom hanging out with andromeda gave her. the only times she could be a kid. enter: alice. she has a similar personality, she's fun and isn't a sickler for the rules but she isn't TOO MUCH either. she's perfect for narcissa <3

and ritaaaa (in my head she's a bit less of a bitch when she's at hogwarts cuz her bitchiness in hp is the kind that is built through years of being a smart & cunning woman climbing ladders). she's the cooler fire that andromeda was to bellatrix. her anchor. the one who doesn't tell her to calm down but directs her muchiness to smth that feels better.

note: i don't think they actually SEE andromeda in alice & rita but rather the personality and the peace they felt. their grief of losing their sister is totally different but with the black family being all yk.. them.. bits of emotional incest and obsession wouldn't be a surprise.

it took them both a long time to actually see alice & rita as INDIVIDUALS rather than concepts (longer for bellatrix)

but the thing is nobleflower was actually sweet!! their only issue was the timings, the war, etc.. narcissa wasn't a hardcore blood purist - did she believe in that shit? yes cuz that's all she knew growing up. but she's the typa person to not get too obsessed with anything. she doesn't commit to any of it - that includes idealogies. so just a bit of exposure would have done the trick - in another universe sighhh. but yeah narcissa wasn't one to get too attached - she above all, valued security, not one for passionate romances either. so yeah she sneaked around with alice a lot but ultimately she wasn't willing to risk leaving her family's protection. and alice wasn't willing to be the mistress of some death eater's wife so they parted ways a few months after graduation ://

BUT quillkiller holy shittt they INVENTED TOXIC YURI!!! rita is very very sneaky and manipulative and gets answers out of ppl just so - and bellatrix was one of her fav + earliest test subjects <3 (bellatrix did not like that she was being manipulated nuh uh) (she also used to manipulate her back) they made each other cry so harddd all the time bro. they had very hot make up sex <3 but it was like only i can hurt you, i'll hurt anyone who hurts you tho. they wouldn't have lasted in any universe cuz they would've grown to DETEST each otherr

do not come after me pls i will cry ik this doesn't make sense but bro im just yapping idkkk </33

[steviewashere]

My Friend

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Steve/Eddie, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Alluded Depression, Death of Parents, Smoking (Cigarettes) Tags: Post-Canon, Vague Timeline, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Steve Harrington Whump, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Hates His Parents, Grief/Mourning, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, And Gets One!, Closure, Semi-Closure, Sort of a Character Study, Eddie Munson Cares About Steve Harrington, Could Be Read Platonically or Romantically I'm putting the cut above where the fic starts because Steve literally talks about suicidal thoughts within the first paragraph. This is the last warning you're getting before you click to read more. Take care of yourselves <3

🫂—————🫂 “One of the last conversations I had with my mom,” he says around the end of his cigarette—Eddie watches him inhale with nimble fingers plucking at the paper, pulling it all away from his lips in practice, the curl of smoke like dragon’s breath—“I told her that I was thinking of killing myself.”

And in the silence of forest lines and curvy edges of a pool nobody’s swam in and a sunroom no longer warmed by the sun, it’s that confession that finally runs Eddie’s brain into nothingness. Into a darkness so vast, so expansive, he can’t give feelings to it. Just a space where they sit, stale cigarettes dangling like empty pens between their fingers, words hung up on punctuations.

He says nothing.

Steve takes another deep lick of smoke into his grey-scarred lungs. Releases it with a breath too somber for either of them. A sound too strong, too heavy, too burdened. But then Eddie closes his eyes—instead of the brown-blackness he’s used to, it’s flashes of color; of red and navy blue; it’s sounds: the screeches and the pleads and the sobs; it’s hands. There are a thousand words compressed in that one exhale, in the pollute spinning to the sky, in the algae thick water where teenage kids once laughed and splashed and kissed and screamed like the kids they were meant to be.

They should be out of here by now. In the front seat of a maroon car that Steve’s dad bought some four years ago. With overcrowded suitcases in the backseat, chip crumbs down their fronts, a tape squealing from the radio that’s ready to spew.

Yet.

Well, here they are. Back to Steve’s house. A mausoleum that echoes if you close a window a little too roughly. With dusty scrapbooks, faded pictures of a childhood Steve now yearns for—one that Eddie didn’t live, but could taste like the glue they’re stuck down with. 

A pair of urns on the fireplace mantle. Polished reds and soldered with sterling. Lids held down by museum wax. Big body, small bases.

“My parents are dead,” Steve said over the phone, “they’re dead and I need to pick them up.”

Eddie held his breath. The buzzing static underneath words reverberating through him.

“I need to pick them up,” he repeated. “They haven’t done that for me in years.”

Now, he digs his thumbs under the stretching strands of his ripped knees. Begging them to not burst. To not pop and rustle and sound off. Still, he doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know how. Figures it’ll hurt.

The cigarette crackles the last of its embers, squashed under Steve’s bare heel on the concrete. Not a flicker of pain between his eyebrows. No winces. Nothingness. Steve’s voice is hollow, yet crackling like a full fire the next time he speaks. “She cried. Held me and cried. Said she was gonna help me fix it.” His hands are dug deep into the front pockets of his jeans, thumbs peeking over the denim. Both of them sweeping over the fabric in some soothing gesture, one that doesn’t seem to work with how white worn the areas are. “I always hated my dad,” Steve murmurs, “used to wonder what it’d be like if he weren’t around.” He swallows and it’s loud and the trees brush their tops and the sky is endless and the pool churns and Eddie’s chest burns where his heart beats and Steve swallows again, harder. “Now it’s too quiet,” he whispers.

At one point, when Eddie was still laid back in the hospital, tubes about and machines beeping, Steve had come to visit him. There was this look on his face: sickly and nervous and angry. He took one glance at Eddie, who could only stare on in confusion and worry and fear, and he burst into tears. They weren’t loud cries. Not a sound at all, really. Eddie couldn’t really move, could only flex his fingers which worked to beckon Steve closer.

And once Steve sat, it was just tumbling words. Of a loud house and how his parents didn’t love each other and disappointment and trying harder and I love them and I wish they’d leave again and loud house and not loving each other and gagging so hard he doubled with it and gasping for breath he never knew to grasp and—Eddie could only loosely grip his fingers. A palm sized bandage plastered on his left cheek, up to the corner of his mouth. It hurt to talk. So, he didn’t. Steve wasn’t mad. Just wanted it quiet.

Steve’s staring at the algae in the pool. Vacant, hollow eyes that seem to only settle for isolation. His thumbs aren’t moving. And his breath remains even. But there’s something to him. Sickly and angry.

“Can I trust you with something, Eddie?” The words aren’t directed at him. Floating stagnant on the surface of this disgusting fucking pool. Glowing green and nasty, reflected on Steve’s pasty skin and his greasy, mop hair and his chapped lips. His eyes that are vacant, so heavy, so tired.

He sniffs, but still says nothing.

Another swallow. A whimper bitten back.

“I’m thinking of it again,” Steve breathes out—acidic and mucky like a curl of cigarette smoke. His stare remains downtrodden, tense, at the pool. To the center of the water, the edge of the diving board. Hands frozen on the tops of his thighs, still stuffed into his pockets.

They haven’t talked about what happened to his parents. The catalyst that lead them here—what it is, Eddie hasn’t got a clue. He hadn’t bothered to look into it. What a newspaper may say or if a report has been given on the television set. There’s been the phone in the hall, off and on ringing for days, countless and daunting and unimportant in this all.

Eddie thought they were finally ready to leave. Leave Hawkins and its ghosts and the damage done all behind. Turn his back on a door he closed, locked and sealed the moment Higgins granted him a diploma—his curled lip and hesitant eyes permanent markers on Eddie’s brain. They’d figured it all out. Follow Nancy and Robin out of Indiana, over a few state lines, make camp in Washington for the time being. But, since Spring Break, nothing has been set in stone and expected. For God’s sake, Nancy was supposed to be packing for Boston, for Emerson, for a career in journalism—yet, here she is, half-way to the Pacific Northwest, bags saddled in her trunk, and Robin on radio duty.

He isn’t sure what he’s going to do once he gets to Washington; to Seattle, more specifically. Maybe bounce around for a bit. Start as a bartender, if they can get over the puckered scar on his jaw. Work his way from there. Trade school? Shadow some mechanic in a workshop he’s never stepped foot in? The future was all very daunting.

A future Steve couldn’t seem to see.

Gently, quietly, Eddie shuffles a few steps over so that he’s shoulder to shoulder with Steve. And, hesitantly, he places his hand on the middle of Steve’s back. Soft like he’s giving a cautionary pet to a sheltered dog. Firm as if testing the give of a mattress. His thumb, with a mind of its own, sweeps up and down the notches of spine it’s able to access. Knobby and sharp, they are.

“What am I supposed to do?” Steve asks a moment later, an edge—a tremble—back to his voice. “I can’t—I don’t—They aren’t coming with me.”

The night before Steve got the phone call, he sat next to Eddie on the sofa and crafted a note. It was the beginning, a semblance, of a goodbye.

‘I don’t know if you’ll see this, if you’ll even find it. But I just want to tell you that I’ve found a place for myself. With people who actually care who are helping get the best for me. I went ahead and cleaned the place up, except for the pool. Not sure what to do with the pool. I’ll leave that for you, if you care to do it or I could find somebody to get it done for you. For reasons I don’t want to give you, I’m not going to leave a forwarding address or phone number. Any mail you get for me, shred it. Any calls you get for me, deny them. I love you, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like. I love you.’

Eddie eyed the last line this morning, wondering if they’d ever get the message.

Though, in hindsight, he felt they never deserved it. Steve was just too good of a person.

He pets his hand down once, then back up to where it had been resting. “We could scatter their ashes?” Eddie suggests.

Next to him, Steve sniffs. Scoffs. “They never fucking liked this place,” he mumbles, “don’t know why they ever bothered with moving here.”

Considering that, Eddie merely nods. Slow and soaking.

They stand there, staring down the filthy water. Should we clean it? One last hurrah?

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve mutters, “just fuck ‘em.”

Gently, “Yeah?”

This time, Steve nods. Rapid and sure. “They could never bother being home with me, why should I care about where they go?” In one swift motion, Steve is whipping out another cigarette from the center of his pack, unearthed from deep in his back left pocket. Eddie, silently, offers out his light, flicking it open when Steve shifts the end of his cigarette towards the gentle flame. He keeps it on a moment longer than necessary, marveling at how the orange warmth glows Steve’s skin the way it’s meant to look. Speaking around his cigarette again, Steve’s features twisted and shadowed, he mumbles, “I should’a just left them at the crematorium. Left ‘em there to rot. Just like they did to me.”

“Steve”—

“Treat others the way you want to be treated, right? They wanted to treat me like I was dirt, like I was fucking nothing—acting like they cared about my well being bullshit until it didn’t fuckin’ benefit them—then they deserve to feel how I felt.” He lets out a thick, dark, acrid swirl of smoke. Shrugs with his left shoulder. “‘Sides,” he murmurs, “it’s not like they can do anything back to me now, yeah? They’ll never…never make me feel this way again. And I can—I can move on. Numb as shit, but I’ll carry on.”

Eddie closes his lighter. Doesn’t say anything.

Exhales the same time as Steve inhales.

There’s a fog building in the trees. Smoke clouding above them, billowing from Steve’s lungs—an evil escaping him, the ghosts, an ache he shouldn’t have had to know.

Neither of them bothered with finding out what happened to his parents. And, cresting over him, Eddie suddenly feels like never truly knowing. Never.

Let those fuckers die.

“Mom told me she was gonna fix me,” Steve reiterates. He blows one more swirl of smoke, this one lighter in color, and then promptly tosses the butt into the pool. “I used to talk to her when I was desperate for…for something, I don’t know what. Emotions I couldn’t understand outta her? Guidance that she was never gonna deliver on? I don’t know what I fucking wanted out of her.” Finally, Steve’s head turns.

Looking directly at Eddie now.

Eyes grazing over all his features. Bouncing.

“She used to tell me I looked like my asshole dad. Just like him.” Steve exhales slow, his breath warm between Eddie’s nose and upper lip. It smells like stale smoke. Words dead on his tongue. “I’m glad you never got to meet him,” Steve states, “I’m not sure what I’d do if you realized what she knew all along.”

Eddie never wants to know what Mr. Harrington looked like. Never wants to know what Steve is yearning for in his childhood. Never wants to know what Mrs. Harrington’s voice sounded like.

His hand presses more firmly on the center of Steve’s back, pushing him, attaching them a little closer. “You look like you,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve’s lips scrunch, the tip of his nose wrinkling, his eyebrows crinkling. “What do I look like to you?” he whispers.

Keeping his gaze steady, directly on Steve’s eyes. Staring down swirls, the center of plumes and hurricanes. Something about Steve felt like it could destroy Eddie—words, murmurs, a simple breath. But Steve is warm. Rich and glowing like a fire; he sees it in Steve’s eyes, the flames. Fire burns, but so does the sun.

“My friend,” Eddie answers, “a friend I wouldn’t know what to do without.” He raises his other hand to the left side of Steve’s face. Brings it down gently as to cup his cheek. Holding him in place the only way he knows how. “I don’t know what goes on in your head all the time,” he says quietly, “but I don’t wanna know what it’s like to never know you, Steve.”

Now, Steve is the one speechless. New words caught choked in the back of his throat. He brings himself in closer, though. And without thought, Eddie scoops him in all the way. Wrapped head to toe, two bodies melding in the green glows and the cold, fog dispersed distantly. A future uncertain. Here, though, they are whole. Broken, misshapen, perfect to each other’s missing parts.

“I gotcha,” Eddie whispers—his hand bounces with Steve’s trembling shoulders—“I’m holding on, I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. We’re here…we’re here.”

🫂—————🫂