#the ONE thing this movie gave us was him looking absolutely gorgeous | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scrollonso · 4 months ago

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Ride, Cowboy — Marcmarc

Pecco's bachelor party was in full swing, and the academy boys were set on making it a night to remember. They had chosen a popular country-themed bar for the occasion, its rustic decor and vibrant atmosphere setting the perfect stage for one final evening of freedom. The bar was adorned with wooden tables, vintage signs, and checkered tablecloths. A live band played upbeat country music, their melodies mixing with the hum of conversations and clinking glasses. The centerpiece of the night was the mechanical bull, positioned prominently in the center of the room, promising both challenge and entertainment.

Pecco, dressed in casual attire that subtly hinted at his upcoming marriage, was surrounded by his closest friends — Vale, Marco, Luca, Franky, Cele, and Mig. The guys were in high spirits, their laughter filling the room as they enjoyed shots and swapped stories. Racing was momentarily forgotten as they indulged in playful banter and reminisced about past adventures. Even Pecco, who usually preferred a more low-key presence in such settings, was swept up in the energy of the night.

As they navigated through the crowd, the music shifted to a heavier beat, drawing their attention to the mechanical bull as the lights dimmed. A group of incredibly attractive girls had taken over the area, each one more stunning than the last. They were taking turns on the bull, their laughter and cheers creating an infectious buzz throughout the bar. The guys couldn’t help but watch, half-impressed, half-entertained by the scene.

“Dio mio,” Luca muttered, his eyes widening in admiration. “They’re amazing!”

Vale, ever the responsible older brother, gave Luca a playful slap on the back of the head. “You’re married, Luca! Keep your eyes where they belong.”

Luca quickly apologized, his face reddening as he assured his brother he was just appreciating the spectacle.

Marco, grinning, elbowed Pecco. “You sure you’re ready to settle down? Because it looks like we’ve got some serious competition here.”

Pecco chuckled, shaking his head. “No way, man. Domi’s the only girl for me. But... I can appreciate the view.”

The group erupted in laughter as one of the girls — a tall blonde with a dazzling smile — took her turn on the bull. She managed to stay on longer than anyone else, her skill and confidence drawing cheers from the crowd. The boys exchanged glances, silently daring each other to give it a try.

“Alright, Pecco,” Franky said, nudging him toward the bull. “Last night of freedom — let’s see what you’ve got!”

“Yeah, show us how a pro rider handles a bull,” Cele added with a smirk.

Pecco raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing as he shook his head. “I’m not getting thrown off that thing tonight. But if you guys want to make fools of yourselves, be my guest!”

And then he took the stage.

Stole the show.

And then this absolutely gorgeous man jumped into the ring and easily swung himself up on the bull. Marco couldn’t see a whole lot of details from this far, but what he could see definitely woke the beast in him.

The man was fit, legs deliciously bowed as if he was made to ride a bull or a horse. The man was a cowboy, and Marco's childhood fantasies of the cowboys in old western movies came flooding back.

The man gripped the handle on the bull with his left hand, muscles bulging enough for even Marco to see. He pressed his heels against the sides of the bull, scooting forward in the saddle, and held up his right hand, arm in the shape of an L. He took a deep breath, sagged down in the saddle as he breathed out, and nodded to the person operating the bull for the group.

And rode for an astonishing 12.72 seconds. It had to be a sign.

His movements were completely fluid, he was one with the bull, there was no doubt about it and Marco found himself completely entranced. He couldn’t honestly say that his jaw didn’t drop because he could focus on nothing but this Adonis of a man riding the shit out of that bull, his movements flawless.

Marco had no idea what the group was speaking about anymore, all he knew was he wanted to be that bull. He needed to be that bull. His whole body flushed hot, his dick taking an abnormal amount of interest in the whole thing, and his brain demanding that he march down there and claim the man.

He rode the whole time with a cocky grin on his lips, eyes trained on the back of the bull’s head, and just as the clock signaled twelve seconds, the man changed his body position and tumbled gracefully off the bull in the next moment, seemingly by his own choice, rather than being flung off like all the others had been.

Marco was on his way over to the man before he had even made a conscious decision about it, his scotch abandoned precariously on the table he'd reserved for the party.

He slowed his steps as he was closing in on the crowd around the mechanical bull, pacing himself as if approaching a business proposal. Hell, he didn’t even know if the man was interested in sleeping with men and Marco recognized how it could be a sensitive topic, so he wanted to approach this in a suitable fashion. But on the other hand, he had never been this aroused from just watching someone before. He could only hope it wasn’t noticeable, on his face or otherwise.

The group of people had grown since Marco first started watching them, and even though they all congratulated the man on his excellent time, it was clear that most of them were strangers. There was a small group that seemed to be the man’s friends, though, and Marco came upon them just as the man was walking over, grinning widely.

How unfair, Marco thought, that the man was so stunning and not his.

“That was great, Marc,” a young man with long, brown hair was saying just as Marco walked up to them, clapping the man on his shoulder.

Marc. What an appropriate name, Spanish from the sound of the groups accents. What a good cowboy name.

“Not my best,” the man — Marc — answered in a tone that suggested he was trying to be modest. “But definitely best so far tonight.”

So he was competitive, this Marc. Marco liked that in a man. Liked it even more when competitive men bent over for him, not because they thought they had to but because they desperately wanted to. Oh, just the thought of having Marc turn into putty in Marco's hands made him hot all over again.

Also, competitiveness was one of the most easily manipulated personality traits, in Marco's experience.

“So good,” he said in a strong, dominant voice, “that you won’t be able to repeat it.”

Marc's whole entourage turned to Marco, collectively giving him a once over, and he straightened, not the least frightened. Just to be certain Marc would rise to the bait, Marco lifted his chin high, looking down his nose at Marc and, as predicted, that made Marc's hackles rise.

“Excuse me?”

Marc had a very pleasant voice. A low, threatening baritone that made Marco vibrate much more pleasantly than that godforsaken bass.

Marco shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, if you’re as good as you seem to think, you should be able to repeat your performance.”

Marc snorted, turning fully to Marco, without a doubt the head of his group, shoulders squared and cocky grin back.

“Twelve seconds is nothing, man. That was just warm-up.”

By the look the older man with the wavy hair threw Marc, Marco suspected that twelve seconds was actually a rather good time and one that might be hard for Marc to beat. And Marco wanted Marc to win. Wanted him cocky and sure of himself as he submitted to Marco's touches.

“It was pure luck,” he challenged in a haughty tone, enjoying the twinkle in Marc's eyes.

“And who are you to say that?” a bigger man behind Marc asked in a gruff voice, the same man that congratulated him earlier. “Some kind of expert, are you?”

Marco spared the man a glance. Twinky, but a decent face. Marc sure knew how to pick handsome friends Marco would give him that. But they all paled in the face of Marc's appearance.

“Oh, I’m certain I would fall on my face if I ever tried,” Marco answered in a calm voice, smiling to himself when him admitting that made the man’s face fall. Marc, however, looked at Marco with sudden interest. “I was merely proposing a bet, since you impressed me and seem so sure of your own abilities,” he directed the last words to Marc, who drew himself up.

“Bull riding isn’t a joke.”

“So, you’re afraid?” Marco enjoyed seeing Marc flounder. “Well maybe it’s for the best. You must be tired; I doubt you would even last five seconds now.”

“Five seconds?” Marc spluttered, some of his group laughing, though it was unsure whether they were amused by the situation or Marc's suddenly squeaky voice. Marc walked into Marco's personal space and puffed out his chest. He smelled incredible. “I’ll last much more than that on any day.”

His low growl made Marco's whole body tingle. “Is that so?” he murmured, letting his eyes roam Marc's face and body. Marc definitely noticed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Marc grunted and Marco's eyes snapped up to Marc's, captivated by their beauty for a moment.

“I would, actually,” he easily admitted, voice low and inviting. “I would like to know that very much.”

Time seemed to stall for a moment, each caught in the other’s gaze, and Marco felt a thrill go through him. This was interesting, this was worth his time. Much more so than snorting tequila and salt from a random woman’s slick body or dancing poorly on rickety tables. Marco felt more alive in this moment than he had in years.

“Five seconds isn’t even a challenge,” the larger man said, interrupting them.

Marc seemed to shake himself.

“Eight, then,” Marco said with a confident smirk. “I bet you fifty euro you won’t last another eight seconds.”

“Fifty euro,” Marc muttered, eyeing Marco's clothes for the first time and seemingly only now realizing it wasn’t a cheap knock-off. “You better be able to fork that up, mate.”

“Don’t you worry about that, cowboy,” Marco winked and watched with satisfaction how Marc's pupils dilated slightly.

He muttered something that sounded like “whatever” and turned to go back to the bull. It had been busy in the background, flinging people off it left and right, and the crowd around it had grown even more but Marco easily found an empty seat where he could comfortably watch from afar.

Marc was talking to his friends, some of them throwing Marco looks, but Marc seemed determined to do this. Marco hoped they weren’t trying to talk him out of it because they thought he would hurt himself, Marco would be devastated if he inadvertently caused Marc harm. Most likely they were talking about the money, though, on the off-chance that Marc lost the bet. Marco really hoped that wouldn’t happen. No this was a battle he was willing to lose, to win the war, so to speak.

When it was finally Marc's turn to mount the bull again Marco was buzzing with anticipation, although he concealed it well enough. He saw Marc's friends tossing him glances from where they were standing, up by the ring, but he paid them no heed. He was perfectly comfortable back here, where he could pull one leg up and rest the ankle against his other knee, to hide inappropriate body reactions.

Because Marc was of course just as splendid the other time around. Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as Marc expertly rode the bull. He was either a natural or he had done this a lot, Marco easily concluded. Maybe he had even ridden real bulls? Now there was a thought.

A thick, muscular, frothing animal bucking as Marc worked every muscle in his glorious body just to stay on.

Marco grabbed his ankle and pulled on his leg a little, his dick swelling to ridiculous proportions just imagining Marc working the animal. Marc's face and body told of experience and Marco watched with hooded eyes as Marc frowned down at the fake bull, concentration wearing on his handsome face.

Would he look as concentrated when he rode Marco? Most likely not, not if Marco had any say in what went on. No, if he — when he was in charge, Marc would be completely relaxed, face slack as pleasure crested inside him.

Marco let out a shaky breath. He needed to calm down or Marc would be more disgusted than intrigued and Marco didn’t want that at all. Suddenly he felt as if he would suffocate if Marc looked at him with hatred and he was momentarily stunned by his own feelings. What did he care, really, what Marc thought of him? Marc was essentially a nobody, a stranger whose station was so below Marco it wasn’t even funny.

Except, when he watched Marc ride that bull, all of that seemed inconsequential. They were just two men in that moment, and Marco desired to stay like that almost as much as he desired Marc, as much as he coveted the man’s pleasure.

The ride ended somewhat more abruptly this time, compared to when last Marc rode. It still looked as if Marc had been in control of when to end it but as if he had been a bit more tired this time around and his tumble off the bull was less graceful and it took him a moment longer to get up off the padded area around the bull.

The long-haired man helped Marc off the stage and Marco stood up just as Marc walked over to him on adorably wobbly legs. A quick glance to the digital clock revealed an astounding 9.57 and Marco made sure to show appropriate surprise and awe, instead of the actual relief and arousal he actually felt.

“There,” Marc said, hands on his hips and voice delectably breathless. “Piece of cake.”

“So I see,” Marco said smugly and walked over to Marc, much too close even for acquaintances. “I’m man enough to own up to my loss,” he said with a smile and pulled out his wallet to fish out a fifty, one among many, though he didn’t show Marc that, not interested in catching the man that way.

“I hope there’s no hard feelings?” Marc said as he accepted the bill, their fingers brushing.

Marc's hand was shaking slightly, no doubt from exertion, and Marco was happy he had lowered the time for the bet so as not to force Marc to match his old time.

“None at all,” Marco said with an intimate smile, leaning in and speaking in a lower tone. “You should know, I’m also man enough to admit that I only wanted to see you ride that bull again.”

That made Marc's eyes flick down to Marco's mouth and up again. Marco enjoyed the fact that Marc actually was a bit shorter than him, if only an inch, and definitely smaller.

There was a beat of silence and then, “Are you sure you’re only interested in seeing me ride bulls?”

A pleasurable wave so forceful it almost choked him washed over Marco and he swallowed once to be sure his voice was under control.

“I can imagine you’re apt at riding all sorts of things.”

Marc shifted from foot to foot. Marco's blood rushed in his ears, drowning out every sound except Marc's.

“You content with imagining it or do you want a demonstration?”

Marco arched an eyebrow, enjoying Marc's challenging tone and squared jaw, but not as much as Marc's reaction to the look Marco gave him. There was clear arousal in Marc's eyes now and Marco reveled in it.

“I have a car outside and an apartment not far from here.”

Marc flashed him that wonderfully cocky grin of his. “Deal.”

Marco took a moment to check his phone when Marc turned to talk to his friends. A quick message ensured that his friends knew he was leaving and not to wait up. Marco smiled to himself as he heard Marc explain that he would “take a hike”.

“Marc, are you sure that’s—”

“Gotta live a little, Alex,” Marc said happily and slapped the man on his back before walking over to Marco. “Good to go?”

“If you are?” Marco said but started walking through the crowd around them without waiting for a reply. Marc easily kept up with his pace, as Marco had suspected he would.

“Don’t mind Alex, he’s just being an overprotective little brother.”

Marco nodded, not having much experience with that but understanding it anyway. “Maybe he’s right to worry a little, considering the things I have in mind for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Marc smirked just as they exited the club, the fresh summer air a blessing compared to the scorching heat of the club. Marco breathed a deep sigh of relief. “What are you planning anyway? You seem pretty vanilla to me.”

Marco smiled at the playful insult. “And yet you came with me.”

“Hey,” Marc said, voice suddenly low and seductive. “You’re like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, I don’t care what you wanna do, I’m in.”

Not that Marco was really planning anything more outrageous than rimming Marc until the man cried from the need to have Marco's hard dick inside him, but it was good to know Marc felt inclined to trust him.

“You know my name, but I don’t even know yours,” Marc murmured as they settled into the Italians car, eyes on his lips. “I’m kinda stupid for even getting in this thing with you, huh?”

“My name is Marco Bezzecchi,” Marco said, other hand brushing down Marc's front, catching on the edge of the man’s jeans. “And please don’t call yourself stupid.”

Marc shifted so that they were sitting almost facing each other, Marc's hands working on opening Marco's jacket as he drove.

“That's too long for me to scream when I come,” he said, voice making Marco's body vibrate with desire. “I’m gonna call you Bez.”

“Please do,” Marco answered, voice equally hushed, and nosed closer so that Marc turned his head just as their hands found each other’s hard-ons. “My friends do.”

Marc moaned into their first kiss, low and sweet and all for Marco as the car parked. He swallowed it greedily, pressing closer as Marc pressed the heel of his hand against Marco's dick. Their lips slid together, noses bumping, but Marco was too wound up to keep to sweet kisses for long. Marc seemed just as eager in the way he opened up when Marco licked his lips and Marco pushed in deep, owned Marc in that one gesture and felt a chilled heat pool in his groin.

Marc, for all his physical strength, sagged against Marco, moaning into the kisses and pawing at Marco's dick. Marco's plan was simple in this moment: get Marc hot and bothered so that he would be pliant and willing by the time they got inside.

Too bad his own pleasure was spiking almost dangerously already.

“Fuck you’re good at kissing,” Marc groaned when they pulled apart. “I’m so hard already, god damn.”

“I got hard from watching you ride the bull,” Marco was surprised by his own sincerity but Marc seemed only pleased.

“I could feel your eyes on me the second time,” he murmured. “I liked it.”

Fuck it, Marco would just have to come up with a way for them to get hot and hard again when they arrived. He needed Marc too much right in this moment to show any kind of restraint.

With one tug and a push, he had flipped them so that they were in the back with Marc on his back, Marco comfortable between the man’s strong legs. Legs that had hugged that bull like they wanted to crush it were now around him. Marco's dick jumped in his dress pants and Marc no doubt noticed.

“You like me watching you?” he asked, voice a low rumble and Marc parted his lips, nodding and looking up at Marco with big eyes. “Do you want me to see you in your pleasure, Marc?”

“Fuck,” Marc pressed out, one hand grabbing Marco's arm and the other digging between them to start opening his jeans. “I can’t wait, Bez.”

“You don’t think you’ll make it, is that it?” he asked, rising to help Marc get their dicks out. “Do you want to let some out now?”

“I’m riding you tonight,” Marc shot back, eyes glinting and Marco shuddered with pleasure.

“I’ll remember that, little cowboy.”

Marc opened his mouth to no doubt banter back but instead a deep groan forced itself out when Marco pressed their hard dicks together for the first time. Marco's whole body sagged with pleasure and he pressed his knees harder against the seat, sitting up a little and putting one hand on the back of the seat for support as he took their dicks in his other hand, squeezing them.

Marc arched his back, gasping and grabbing the seat under him as his body shuddered. His dick jumped in Marco's grip, pressing against Marco's and there was really no stopping him now. Yes, he wanted to wait, and no, they didn’t even have lube, but the desire was choking him, and Marc was making all the right sounds as Marco started jacking them. Marc was apparently one of those guys who had a lot of precome because Marco's hand got sticky fast enough to replace the need for lube.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” Marco huffed out, breathless now as the pleasure burned white-hot inside him. “Rim you, prep you, fuck you.”

Marc moaned, legs flexing around Marco. “I’m gonna ride you until you cry,” he pressed out through gritted teeth and Marco felt an unexpected surge of arousal at the challenge. “Gonna ruin you for all other asses.”

Oh sweet Lord, Marco was going to come soon. He had never been this attracted to someone, the way Marc challenged him even while submitting was blowing Marco's mind.

“You’ll never want another dick,” he managed to quip, words clipped, and sped up his hand.

They rocked together in the dim light of the car, the world outside forgotten as they came together, hands grabbing each other and dicks aching, yearning to release. Marco's balls had pulled up, so prepared to shoot all over Marc, and Marc's dick was leaking a continuous stream of precome that Marco craved to taste.

His spine burned with his arousal and he panted hotly, leaning down over Marc again, one hand on the seat beside Marc's head as Marc grabbed his body to pull him even closer.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” Marc grunted, pushing away Marco's hand and wrapping his legs around Marco's hips, bucking up. “Kiss me.”

Marco readily indulged Marc, hips working to grind their hard dicks together and though it was rough with their clothes and zippers in the way, it was the most glorious Marco had ever felt. Marc kissed him as if he were a man parched and Marco cradled Marc's head, one hand on Marc's hip, encouraging his movements.

True to his word, Marc came only moments later, body locking up and a shaky moan escaping his parted lips. Wetness spread between them but far from being tacky, it only spurred Marco on and he came too, a handful of thrusts later.

“Well, that was something,” Marc panted after a moment.

Marco blinked and did his best to pull back but his head was swimming a bit. “It wasn’t what I had planned,” he admitted and couldn’t help but grin down at the mess they had made. It was all over their clothes. Marc of course looked ravishing covered in Marco's come. “But then, the night is young.”

“Definitely,” Marc grinned up at him, cocky as ever. “You aren't getting out of that ride.”

Marco felt a renewed wave of arousal just as the overhead light flashed around them. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he smirked, thinking that for all its faults, the night couldn’t have turned out better in the end.

Marco walked them up to an apartment and then knocked on the door, he turned to Marc and smiled.

“Do you live with someone?” Marc asked, suddenly feeling like maybe this wasn’t the ideal plan.

Marco snickered, taking out a large ring of keys and trinkets from his jacket. He put the key in the lock and then turned to Marc before turning the key.

“No, I’m just scared of walking in on someone robbing my apartment so I knock to make sure they’re gone by the time I go in.”

Marc took a step back, “Are you serious?”

“Nope,” Marco said, opening the door and gesturing for Marc to enter. “It’s just a habit.”

The corners of Marc’s mouth turned up a little, amused, he poked Marco in the ribs as he walked past to show his mild annoyance with the bad joke. Marc chuckled, and then walked past Marco, letting the door stay wide open for some reason.

Marc's first impression of Marco's apartment was that it was well lived in, a loved space. Wherever he looked, there were pieces of personality shining through. It felt memorable, interesting. Full of care.

Marco stood still by the door, closing it behind himself. He took in the warm colors and the decorative knick-knacks that he could see all over. Potted plants kept high and low, posters and art in many styles and varying ages.

"Nice place. Have you lived there long?" Marc asked, pushing his hands down in his pockets just to have something to do with them. The space felt perfect, and Marco felt more perfect each second he spent with him.

"A few years," Marco turned to Marc, scratching his neck, and looked over this own space like he hadn't done that in a while. "It's too much, I know, but-"

"No, no. It's perfect." Marc felt the blush come alive again. "I like it."

Marco looked at him with some sort of surprise, nodding. He looked around again and then back at Marc. The looks changed almost immediately.

He moved closer, a few steps to his side as he placed his hand on Marc's side. His fingers kneading down into the muscle there. Marco cornered him, making him back up until he was pinned to the wall. The pressure made Marc's breath catch in his throat. Marco's grip was light, fingers pressed down. And that was all that was holding him in place.

"Hey," Marco said. He looked good like this, Marc thought. Standing over Marc. The light fixture above them made it look like Marco was wearing a halo.

"Hi," Marc answered, breathy and low. He had to lean his head back to the wall to get a good look at Marco when they stood this close. The closeness also made him in perfect view of the movement of the muscles in Marco's neck and jaw. Constantly moving, like Marco had tension built up that just couldn't escape.

Marco moved his hands, placing them at the back of Marc's head. The moment felt like it could last forever.

He pulled Marco's head down toward himself. Their noses touched for a second before their lips finally made contact.

Marc sighed into it. The softness in which Marc stilled at that let Marco take the lead even further. Marco tasted sour, Marc needed more. The sensation of moving muscles under his hand and a grin against his lips filled Marco's mind with sparks. He quickly wanted more of all of it.

With a light bite, he asked Marc for more. The question was answered by Marc opening his mouth and meeting him halfway, tongues brushing carefully together as Marco pulled Marc even closer, pushing both arms over Marc's shoulders to minimize the room between them.

Marco had gone home with people before. The men had all just been distractions. Something to pass the time and release the stress of his day-to-day life.

Kissing Marc, touching him, felt like something was coming into shape. Like the mass under his hands was clay ready to be molded into something. It felt different, and it made him feel desperate.

"Bedroom?" Marc asked,

"Yeah…"

"No, where is your bedroom?"

"Oh, it's right there-"

Marc took Marco by then hand and pulled Marco after himself, turning when he got close to the door and pulling Marc close for another kiss as he fell with his back against the closed door. Marc met the kiss openmouthed and wanting, his hand going to the doorknob to open the door. He held Marco up with a hand on Marco's lower back, keeping his from falling backward as the door flew open and Marc lead him into the room.

Marc was stronger than Marco had anticipated, which gave him many ideas that he needed to explore.

Marco continued to move backward, Marc guiding him. When the back of his knees his something soft, he allowed himself to fall backward and Marc helped him lay down softly.

He pulled at Marc's shirt hem, annoyed by the extra layers. "Take this off," he said, mumbling his words and lazily flicking the fabric between his fingers.

Marc did as he was told, and the clothing was quickly discarded. Marco did the same, unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it in the same direction as Marc had started throwing his clothes. He started to unzip his pants, stopping only to motion for Marc to do the same.

Marc was quick here too, the jeans falling down to the floor and then a fast two-step out of them. Toes catching the fabric and kicking the jeans to the side.

Marco snorted, pulling his pants down and off, letting them fall to the floor. He motioned for Marc to come closer, a beckoning finger asking him to come here. And once again, Marc did precisely what he was told, in record time.

He crowded Marco, chests pressed against each other as Marc took hold just under the curve of Marco's ass and hoisted him more onto the bed. Then placing himself on top of Marco.

"All good?"

"I'm great," Marco said, feeling his stomach flip as his mind replayed the light manhandling of the movement. So many possibilities, the opportunities were stacking up in neat little piles in his brain.

"Good," Marc said, followed by a kiss. A quick peck, something to sign the deal.

Marco could feel something in his lower belly start to form too early. He bit down, swallowed it, and placed his hands on Marc's shoulders as he hovered over him. He pushed Marc to his side, turning his own body so they were facing each other again. Legs still slightly tangled, feeling each other. The lack of pressure from another body helped, and Marco went in for another kiss.

The kissing got deeper, more rushed. Mouths open, small bursts of breathing against each other's lips to catch their breaths. Marc's hand graced Marco's cheek, moving along the jaw and then down over the side of his neck. Moving from the side and back to his nape, then back to the side in a slow movement.

Marc pulled away, already sounding out of breath. "Hey, so... What do you want?" he asked, his hand still moving over Marco's neck and into his hair. "Tell me what you like."

The touch felt deliberate to the point of almost being too much, too deep of a connection. Marco still leaned into it, acting like he'd been touch starved, and he was ready for a feast.

"Well, you're the bull rider-"

"You want me to ride you?" Marc asked, raising his brow and trying to hide his grin. Marco was still touching him, looking at him like they'd known each other for all their lives, and not like this was something new, not some one-time thing.

"I wouldn't mind that," Marc said, his eyes falling closed for a second as he composed himself. "But after seeing you in the car, I think you'd kill me — that… everything you did was… I don't think I can handle that happening again."

"Want to make another bet?" Marco asked, moving in close.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think that you always cheat when making bets."

"Is that a no?" Marco smirked. "I can show you a good time, I promise."

"Jesus christ, are you always like this?"

"No, you're special," Marco said, smiling. He knew his words sounded insincere, but there was a knot in Marc's throat that scared him. Not of what he said but what he wanted it to mean.

Marc leaned in, closing the short distance between them with another kiss. He positioned his body more on top of Marco, pressing him down into the mattress by his shoulders as he slowly made his way to fully straddling Marco. He could feel Marco half hard against his ass.

He pulled away from Marco's lips, his mouth gracing over Marco's chin and down his neck — making small stops to peck more kisses as he went. He found pleasure in this, feeling Marco's breath catch under him, the heat and taste of Marco's skin against him. It felt nice, felt needed.

His hands squeezed Marco's shoulders before moving down to feel along Marco's sides, feeling and pressing his fingers down into the mass under himself to make it known that he was there.

Marco's breathing was coming out in heavy bursts. Hitching and catching. Marc wanted him to talk, say something. Make a sound, something to tell Marc how he was feeling.

Marc liked the sound of him, reveled in it.

"This ok?" Marc asked. "You're quiet."

Marco shuddered, letting out a gasp. "I'm just — this is good, it's good," Marco said, looking down at Marc. His lashes looked so dark like that. Heavy and thick, eyes studying.

"Yeah?"

"Stop that," Marco laughed, pressing Marc's face down into his chest so that Marc couldn't look at him. "You fucking know it's good."

Marc didn't try to move against Marco's hand laying on his head. It wasn't holding him down, more holding him in place. There was no force, just the weight of Marco's hand. He grinned into Marco's skin, then continued his way down, down, down when he felt that Marco wasn’t going to hold him.

Marco's hand was still placed on his head as he moved, and he didn't do anything until Marc reached Marco's lower stomach. His fingers tangled up in Marc's hair and pulled, stopping him from moving.

"Give me a second," Marco said, so close to begging Marc wanted to tease the rest out immediately. "I just need to collect myself. Just one... One second."

With how Marc's head was placed, he still couldn't see Marco's face. The sound of his voice was thick, heavy and a bit slurred. Marc could feel Marco's pulse through his skin, feel the quickness of his breath.

"That's fine," Marc said, moving his hands below Marco's hipbones and holding on with a firm grip. "I can wait."

"Fuck, Marc," Marco said. "How are you so good at this."

"Practice makes perfect, right?"

"God fucking damn it, ok… ok," Marco pulled his hand back, his grip moving from Marc's hair to the sheets. "Ok, do your worst. I'm ready."

"Worst?" Marc asked, smiling up at Marco again, their eyes meeting. Marco looked flushed, his pupils blown and his bottom lip wet and marked. Marc wondered for a second if he was the one that had left the marks on there or if it was Marco biting down. Either way, Marc really liked the way it looked.

"Best, whatever," Marco huffed and then threw his arm over his eyes.

"I always do my best," Marc said like it was stupid of Marco to assume anything else.

Marc's fingers moved under the elastic of Marco's boxers, pulling them down as he laid another kiss just below Marco's belly button. He then sat up, seated on his knees between Marco's legs. He looked at Marco lying there in front of him — bare, needy. Skin pink and shiny, a blotchy blush over his chest and neck.

Marc's eyes moved further down, placing over chest hair that became a light sprinkling over a softer middle, which then became thicker as it went below his belly button. His eyes glanced lower, admiring his view as his eyes settled on Marco's dick.

"Can I touch you?"

"You've been touching me."

"Ha ha, can I touch your dick, you dick?" Marc pressed his thumbs into the soft skin by Marco's hipbones - making sure that Marco knew he was there. Desperate to leave a trace.

"Please don't be funny right now. I’m already so turned on I’m scared to become a heart attack statistic.”

Marc laughed, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes, for fucks sake, touch me, please."

The room felt like it was filled with sparkling electricity as Marc bent down again, kissing from his last spot under Marco's belly button and continuing lower. He could hear Marco breathing heavily, his breaths falling into a steady, recognizable rhythm. Marc stopped, smiling against Marco's skin.

"Are you Lamaze breathing?" Marc asked between kisses, placing a last one at the base of Marco's dick. Marco let out a light groan.

"Yeah, I'm pacing myself." He sounded out of breath, flustered.

"You're so weird."

"You're such a tease."

"And you're so easy," Marc said, smiling up at Marco. "If you don't enjoy it, you can just tell me to stop."

Marco shook his head, "No, no, fuck no. I enjoy it.”

Marc crawled back up on Marco, placing himself so that they were face to face. Marco starred at him. Marc wasn’t sure what Marco could see, he was so close he was sure it would be blury, especially in the dimly lit bedroom they'd found themselves in.

“Hola,” Marc said, floating over Marco. His hands were placed on each side of Marco's head, keeping him up yet so very close.

“Ciao,” Marco said back, smiling. Marc sat back up, straddling Marco's middle. He reached for the curls covering his face and pulled them back, gently. “Thank you.”

“You need to see this part,” Marc said, leaning back to settle himself better over Marco's hips.

He started to move his hips softly, feeling Marco's dick press against the cleft of his ass. The fabric of his boxers was the only thing between them. Marco hissed, letting out small noises as Marc adjusted.

"What you do is, you follow the motion of the bull with your hips," Marc said, lifting himself up and then moving over Marco's crotch again with an easy flow in his hip. "The trick is to find the motion the bull is giving you, feel it with your hips, and then let it all move through your spine. You don't fight it."

"Inter- ah! -esting," Marco said through gritted teeth, a low moan splitting the word up. Marc smiled.

"I've been told I'm a great teacher." Marc didn't stop moving, grinding down smoothly over Marco and feeling his squirm.

"Cazzo, you're killing me," Marco said, voice pleading.

"Listen," Marc said, giving Marco a light slap on his cheek so he'd focus. "Just look at me, see what I'm doing?"

"Yeah," Marco said, voice breathy and low.

"I want you to do this for me, ok?"

Marco blinked, looking confused. "I thought we'd already established that I'm stiff as hell."

Marco looked down at Marc, "yeah, I can feel your dick against my ass. I know."

"I meant the riding."

Marc chuckled, ”I know, the bet is that I can teach you ride the bull.” Marc pressed down harder, making Marco tilt his head back as a hollow sound left his throat. "and, as I said, I've been told I'm a great teacher."

Marco took a deep breath, grabbing Marc by the hips and rolling them over. Marc felt like the heat was radiating from him when his back hit the sheets. Marco was on his knees between Marc's thighs, he kissed Marc once before leaning back on his heels and clicked his tongue.

"Well, let’s see what you can teach me, teach.”

Marc reached for the bottle of lube and slicked himself up by giving himself a few strokes as Marco positioned himself. Positioned over Marc, he leaned slightly forward — aligning himself with Marc's dick and then slowly pushing down.

Marc gasped, mouth falling open at the feeling. The slow movement up and down as Marco took more and more of him was excruciatingly hot. When Marco bottomed out, he stilled. Looking at Marc with heavy eyes and wetted his lips as he was getting used to the feeling. He looked amazing like that.

Marco adjusted, making Marc catch a moan in his throat.

"You good?" he asked, placing one of his hands on Marc's chest and the other on Marc's hip — finding his balance.

"Si," Marc said. "You can move."

Marco did as he was told, lifting himself up and then slow down again. Marco watched him closely, his hands on Marc's hips to help his movement, not for control.

"Fuck," Marc said under his breath, sounding like a whine.

Marc bit down on his bottom lip, his fingers digging into the meat on Marco's hip as he thrust up at the same time Marco came down. It made Marco let out a surprised moan, his rhythm halting. Marc thrust up again, deep and hard, his hands on Marco's hips helping him find the pace again.

"Is it- fuck… Is it good?” Marco asked, moving again. He was stiff in his movement, not to the point of making any of it less enjoyable, but Marc was trying to make a point.

"It’s good, it’s so - Marco, Bez," Marc said, moving his hands down Marco's thighs and feeling the muscle work. "Remember what I said, just feel it and follow. Just – Fuck!" Marc threw his head back as Marco, again, did just as he was told, finding the flow with Marc's thrust and met him seamlessly in the movement. Moving in a wavelike pattern, his hips loosening straight away.

Marc felt tension pooling in his lower stomach, a coil heating up lower down. His grip on Marco's thighs tightened, begging Marco to go faster. Marco was making all kinds of sounds, low moans that grew to almost a shout. Marc wanted to taste the sounds he was making.

He tried to speed up even more, desperate to hear what else would come out.

"You look so good. You look amazing," Marco groaned, feeling sweat run from his forehead and down his temple. "Fuck Bez, you sound amazing." Marc gripped Marco by the hip again, feeling up his sides. “Just like that, exactly like that. You’re doing so good.”

Marco smiled, not slowing his movement. "You like this?" he asked, more a question than a tease. Marc thrust up harder, hitting Marco deeper, and he fell forward. Gasping and whining.

"Oh god, I'm so fucking close-" Marco said, digging his face deeper into Marc's chest. His fingers on the hand that used to steady him pressed down into Marc's sternum and left marks. Marc didn't stop, the angle was weird, but it seemed to get the job done just fine. Marco's face still buried in his chest, mumbling nonsense and breathing hard.

The coil in Marc's lower belly was tensing up even more, he was close.

In the heat of the moment, he rolled them around. Changing positions so that he was on top and Marc fell on his back. He gasped, sounding like he was choking on air. Looking flushed all over, his eyes were almost entirely black and his curls ended up littered around, framing his face. Marc reached out and fixed them, wanting Marco to see, and then leaning down to kiss him as he started to move at a quick pace again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Marco said, his hands gripping into the sheets for leverage. "Touch me. Please, touch me."

One of Marco's hands grabbed Marc's, moving it over himself between them. Marc followed without question, placing his hand on Marco's dick and giving him slowly paced strokes. Marco's bottom lip quivered, his mouth open and a guttural sound came out. After a few more strokes, Marco started to cum roped between them. His body tensed, contracting on Marc as he tried to keep his pace going.

"You feel so fucking good, Holy-" With what he was seeing, sensing, smelling, Marc came. His eyes slammed shut as the orgasm took over. When he came to, he felt light and boneless, lying chest to chest with Marco. Both still breathing heavily, both sweaty and sticky.

After a moment, Marco cleared his throat, "Thank you for showing me the proper technique for doing that, I…." He laughed. "No, I can't even make up a joke right now. That was amazing. fucking hell."

"Yeah," Marc said, feeling like he was made of cloud. Marc Cumulus. Don't mind the double entendre.

They lied in silence for a few minutes after that, Marc realizing he was still inside Marco much later than was probably acceptable. He slowly pulled out, both of them hissing at the sensation.

"Sorry," Marc said, rolling off Marco and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I think I lost most of my brain cells when I came, that was... Fuck, that was perfect.” He looked over at Marco, eyeing the shape of him. The size and the curve. He never wanted to stop looking, really wished he would be able to never stop.

Marco pulled the sheet up over his chest, followed by Marc quickly pulling it down again. Like they are playing a game. Marco smiled softly and with a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed shy now. Like looking at Marc was too much, but he couldn't make himself stop.

"Alright," Marco pulled the sheets up again, covering his chest up to his collarbones.

"That was good," Marc said, again. "Thank you."

Marco let out a full-body laugh, curving inward on the bed as he rolled over on his side towards Marc. He gave Marco a slow kiss on the cheek, and Marco wanted to follow him when he pulled away.

"Well, you’re welcome."

"Thanks," Marco said again, mortified by the sound of his own voice.

Marco felt hot all over still, not in the same way as earlier but like a teakettle ready to start whistling. The light of the outside streetlight showered Marc's face in a soft yellow. It felt like a sign. Marco had just not realized what for yet.

"All my pleasure, Bez." Marc said, rubbing the sheet over his belly. Really ruining them.

"No, don't say it like that!" Marco laughed, picking up the pillow from under his head and hitting Marc over the side of his face. "Don't be gross."

"I think you like a little gross," Marc said. "I think you're a little freak that's just waiting to get out."

Marco hit him with the pillow again, "Shut up!"

His laugh traveled from the middle of his chest, up and out in the open air of the bedroom. It ended in a smile, easy and genuine. Marc couldn't remember when he laughed like this last.

Marc waved his hands over his head in retreat, laying the pillow down, and then rolled over on his side, face to face with Marco.

"I'm not a freak."

"I know," Marc said. "Just a little bit weird and a lot of bossy."

Marco felt himself blush, "Bossy?"

"Great quality, as I love to be told what to do."

Marco narrowed his eyes on Marc, shaking his head slightly. "You don't seem like someone who does what others tell you."

"Oh, no. I'm not. I just like to be told to do stuff. It's different than actually doing what I'm told."

Marco laughed again, pressing Marc's face away from him with a playfulness he didn’t know he had in himself. The night was dark and quiet. Marco could lie like this forever. But he remembered what it was, a quick hook up after some quick flirting in a bar.

The feeling of bliss didn’t leave him though, and Marc didn’t stop smiling at him.

"So," Marc started, turning his head and staring up onto the ceiling. "Can I call you sometime?"

Marco looked at Marc's side profile. The downturn of his nose, the double curve of his lips. He wanted to thank Marc's parents for their excellent work. They really did a great job with the gene composition. They should get a prize, some kind of award for their work.

"Sure," Marco said. "You could do that."

"Nice, ok," Marc cleared his throat, still saying straight up. "And if I asked you out to dinner tomorrow, would that be ok too?"

Marco felt something flip in him, a flutter. "That would be ok."

"Great."

Marc laughed, followed by Marco laughing too.

"Good cause if this had been a one-time thing, I think I'd have to go celibate," Marc said, rubbing his hands over his face. "Don't think anyone else can live up to that. Ever."

"Stop flattering me. I already said yes to dinner." Marco laughed, poking Marc in the ribs.

"Hey, stop," He said, laughing too. "Maybe I'm flattering you for a second round?"

Marco let out a tired sigh, pressing his face into the middle of Marc's chest. Creating a burrow for himself to sleep. "Absolutely, I just need a nap first," He said. "Maybe a glass of water or a snack."

"I can accept all those things,” Marc said, his fingers moving through Marco's curls. “All those things are acceptable to me."

"Good, wake me up in like 45 minutes, ok?"

"Fine, yeah," Marc said, his fingers continuing to move through Marco's hair. "I'll do that."

#idk.#this will probably become a series #kats motogp blurbs!#marcmarc #bezquez #marco bezzecchi #marc marquez #mm93 #mb72 #vr46 #vr46 riders academy #vr46 academy #smut #rpf #fanfic #ao3 #mlm #im not really sure what this is tbh #this is for u sage!!!!

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astrae4 · 2 years ago

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♡ THE BOYZ AS YOUR FIRST KISS

pairing — the boyz x reader

genre — fluff, romance, humor

warnings — could be seen as suggestive in some.

note — hehe~ i’ve been a lot more active these days since school’s over!!

more works — navigation | tbz!masterlist

SANGYEON | after-date kiss

this man is so prepared. He had it all planned out in his head. The date was perfect; your conversations were amazing and the chemistry oozed out naturally. After he paid for the meal (despite you insisting that you split the bill instead), he drove you back to your house. Holding your hand as you’re about to part, he worked up the courage to give you a cheek kiss—but oh gosh, he was so nervous! Thankfully he had you, who gave him one small peck in his lips, before running into your house with a laugh, leaving him in shock. Safe to say he left your driveway with a dumb smile on his face!

JOONYOUNG | late night walk kiss

after going out for a hangout with a few friends, Jacob offered to walk you home as your houses were on the same direction. One convenience store stop later and you’ve both taken a detour to walk on the sidewalk. Oh, how he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. Even with your tired eyes, messy hair, and cakey makeup that was screaming to you to be taken off. Sensing his stare, you hit him with the “What? Is there something on my face?” And so he replied with the cliché “you’re beautiful.” Next thing you know, you’re both kissing underneath a lamppost in the starry night.

YOUNGHOON | for the job kiss

the actor you were working with was handsome. you got casted as the female lead and he—the male lead. Today, you were going to film the kiss scene. “Nervous?” He asked. “A bit.” You replied. It was fake—all for the job, of course, but why did it make your heart flutter so much? The director gave you a signal, and to your fortune—you did good. Just as the director gave you guys a cut, the handsome man leaned in your ear, whispering, “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind for us to do it again off camera.”

JAEHYUN | during the movie kiss

Hyunjae had been such a sweetheart. Asking you for time after school, he brought you to the mall. He bought you some tteokbokki and drinks, and then brought you to the cinema to watch some newly released romance movie. The movie was great, by the way! The casts were amazing, the shots were beautiful, the plot was interesting, and the boy beside you was staring at you with heart eyes! Wait—what? You turned to the side to look at Hyunjae, both staring at each other before you naturally leaned in, a kiss being shared as the stars of the movie had their happy ending.

JUYEON | childhood kiss

you remember the day your boyfriend and you first met. baby you and Juyeon were in the same daycare. Another kid had taken your toy shovel, making you let out a cry of sadness. Baby Juyeon was a knight in shining armor, scolding the bullies and taking your shovel back. He had cooly crouched down with you wiping your tears with his baby hands before giving you your shovel back. Your tears stopped, and Juyeon had appeared to become the most handsome man in your eyes ever since. You thanked him by slapping your hands in his cheeks, before pulling him for a kissy kiss!!

HYUNGSEO | i love you kiss

you both were best friends. Yet, friends don’t do such things. Friends don’t stare at each other for too long, friends don’t have lingering touches. Just today, you slept over his house because you stayed for too long the other night, making it ‘too late’ to go home in Kevin’s eyes. Reaching a conclusion, you went down to where Kevin was making breakfast. “Good mor—” “Kevin, do you like me?” He stopped cooking to look at you, before answering you, “Truthfully, I do—no, actually, I love you.” You wasted no more time, pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

CHANHEE | in the pool kiss

taking a sip from your glass of wine, you put it back on the edge of the pool. giggling as you see Chanhee’s impatient expression, you quickly came to him, hooking your arms around his shoulder as his fall on your bare waist. Only the sounds of the water in the pool resonated as it was now too late for humankind. You both look at each other in the eyes, before moving closer to each other. “May I?” He asks softly, biting his plump bottom lip. You nodded, and soon enough; your lips connected as you shared a soft and sweet kiss.

CHANGMIN | thank you kiss

the sounds of synchronized steps echoed the practice room as the song came to an end. Changmin had offered to help you with a step you were confused with, and so here you are; doing extra practice in the middle of the night. You both grabbed a drink, pants echoing the room. “I think we’re done with practice—you were great just now. We should go home since it’s late.” He said. You nodded, grabbing your bag before you turned off the electricity and left the room together. “Thank you for staying and helping me, Changmin. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You gave him a peck, before leaving. Only when you reached your humble abode did you realize that you didn’t kiss his cheek.

HAKNYEON | shared chocolate kiss

sitting in a bench after going to the convenience store with Haknyeon, you both unwrapped your drinks. Sipping on the matcha milk, Hak nudged you. “Care for some chocolate?” He asked. You said yes undoubtedly. Imagine the shock on your face when; rather than giving you a piece, he put half on his mouth and held your nape, pulling you in for a kiss. You instinctively opened your mouth to bite the chocolate, lips pressing against each other in the process. After pulling away, the damn menace then proceeded to act as if it was nothing and focused back on his food, leaving you in a blushing mess.

SUNWOO | shutting one up kiss

being friends with a cowardly tease can be fun sometimes. They’d act all flirty and bold, making the other a flustered mess. Yet, they become the flustered mess the moment a hint of teasing is retaliated. It was really fun. Especially given the way your best friend, Sunwoo, was blushing. The day started off in annoyance as his teasing was endless. So you replied with a “if you don’t shut up, I’ll kiss you.” Flustered but not wanting to lose his cool, Sunwoo started singing lalalas. So, you kissed him, shutting him up.

YOUNGJAE | the accidental kiss

let’s be for real. this over-thinker would be way too pussy to actually kiss you outside of his own imagination. So it’s either you that have to initiate it or it happened accidentally. In this case, it happened accidentally. Basically, we all know how clumsy he is, right? Well, he tripped and fell on your lips. Scrambling up in a hurry, the both of you started to apologize to each other. Gosh, what a way to meet, right? Who’d guess that one question and three weeks was all it took for a non accidental second kiss.

taglist — @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @deoboyznet

#deoboyznet #theboyz #tbz #fluff #deobi #chanhee #changmin #eric sohn #jacob bae #juyeon #kevin moon #sunwoo #haknyeon #sangyeon #younghoon #hyunjae #romance #humor

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koralira-kira · 1 year ago

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the way he does things ❆park sunghoon❆

pairings : student!sunghoon x student!reader

genre : college sweethearts, romance, fluff, young love

synopsis : watch or read how park sunghoon does the things that made him realise about his feelings for you.

warnings : none

wc : 523

notes : the first time i'm doing this tumblr thing and it took me a good thirty minutes to set and figure this up (writing not included) and it's honestly rlly hard since i only read here 🥲, so kudos to the writers that take their time to prepare all of these for us to read WHAJKJHSKJSHA. anyways, hope u enjoy!!!

---

the way park sunghoon got you wrapped around his fingers whenever he walks down the hallway along with his little group with that devilish smile stapled on his face, looking at you like you're some lost pup that he found down the highway.

the way park sunghoon never forgets to miss his chances to look at you eating, laughing, and talking in the school cafeteria with those pretty sparkly eyes while the boys talk about their day. he admits it's a bit weird and strange but he just can't help it.

the way park sunghoon would catch you playing on your phone or laptop during your classes while smiling to himself knowing you only have a 40% chance of not getting caught by your professor. he's not gonna lie though, mr. anderson's classes weren't as much fun as mr. garcia's.

the way park sunghoon would purposely sit the nearest chair to you in the school library and would lowkey admire you while studying for your bio exams next week. and if he's lucky, you'd catch him stare at you and while holding that eye contact, he'd give you the most smug smirk he's got.

the way park sunghoon would never, and i kid you not, NEVER stop until he'd find you at every frat party he's been to. and if he did, he would quietly follow you around and look out for you in case something would happen.

the way park sunghoon would be all in denial to the boys about his feelings for you but would question himself that night and realize how he's so down bad for a girl like you.

the way park sunghoon would get his ego boosted up whenever he sees you in one of his figure skating tournaments holding up a sign that says his name that you made the night before. he'd lie if he said it didn't make him blush.

the way park sunghoon would ask you out on a date little hang out the next day. giving you a cute rose that he definitely didn't buy last minute.

the way park sunghoon would shyly ask for your number and you gladly giving it to him as he drops you off at your appartment complex. as soon as he saw you close that door, he'd stare at that same door for five minutes straight, smiling like an absolute idiot holding his phone with your number saved on it. he gave himself a mental note to text you as soon as he got back to his apartment.

the way park sunghoon would ask you for a few more dates and eventually confessing to you to be his girlfriend in the back of his car, covered with a thick blanket and a few chips at the side while watching a blockbuster movie. obviously you said yes, i mean who wouldn't say no to that gorgeous being?

it's that way park sunghoon would do things that never disappoints in making you feel happy, free, loved, and cared for. now that you're his, he'll make it sure to the gods that no matter how hard it takes, he'll never let you go.

fin

---

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the-ninjago-historian · 1 year ago

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Ninjago Remastered Designs!

THEY'RE DONE! After months of work!!! They are DOOOOOOOOOOONE. WOOOOOOOOOOO! Lol! Welp, these are my Ninjago designs! Basically, this is my take on the Ninja if they were in a 2d animated cartoon! And yes! I will be drawing more characters. Tumblr butchered the quality, so close ups and design notes are below the cut. They're pretty detailed, so I highly recommend checking them out. Feel free to ask questions about the designs! ⬇️⬇️⬇️ - ✒️🐉

When designing these outfits, I tried to take inspiration from the ones in the show. And in terms of art style, drew inspiration from early 2000s cartoons, (Action Adventure ones specifically,) Anime inspired shows, and even a hint of traditional Disney animation. And while I designed them with a 2d cartoon in mind, most of the designs would most likely have to be simplified for them to be used in animation. So let's get started!

Kai: Kai was a pretty fun to work with. I actually didn't plan on giving him a sleeveless outfit. But it happened! And I like it! If you'll notice, the flame pattern on his vest mirrors the pattern on his sister Nya's outfit. I thought that would be a cool detail to include. It was inspired by their March of The Oni outfits. I also made sure to include his scar and bandaid. And gave him reddish brown eyes to signify his elemental power. Him and sister I imagine being Brazilian/Taiwanese. So I hope I captured their ethnicity properly. I'm pretty happy with this design. Especially his hair, which was hard to replicate.

Jay: Jay was a hard one for sure. I wasn't too sure how to vamp up his outfit. So I started by giving him some lightning patterns on his Gi. (At least I think that's what it's called?) And I decided to make it look a little baggy and soft. It just seemed to suit him. I tried something a little more form fitting and didn't look right. Also! A fun detail I included was his half the Yin Yang pendent around his neck! And of course Nya has her half. I imagine him having Irish ancestry, so I gave him pale, freckled skin. And gorgeous curly red hair. (As a fellow red head, I'm very proud.) Overall, I think he turned out pretty adorable. And his face is spot on.

Nya: Nya I pretty much got right on the first try! I just had a really clear vision of her in my head. I gave her a grey outfit with bright, vibrant blue details. The pattern on her Gi is inspired by Koi Scales. And she has her half of the Yin Yang pendent around her neck. I really like this one, because while it is simple, it's beautiful. And I think it reflects her element nicely. The only thing I missed was to give her a symbol like the rest. But overall, I love it! One more thing is that I wanted to give her and Pixal different hair. So when I finally release my Pixal design, you'll see that while they both have ponytails, I gave them different cut and styled ones. Should be neat!

Zane: Zane was the first one of the Ninjas I redesigned! I love how he turned out. I tried to give him a splintered ice effect on his outfit inspired by his Core minifigure and gave him his faithful falcon companion. Falcon has his old greyish purple feathers, but blue icy eyes to match his owner. I also wanted to give Zane flowing sleeves, that would look very majestic waving about in a blizzard wind. He is also incredibly tall. Taller than Cole even! I was inspired by the giant humanoid robots I'd seen in movies. In his cloaking disguise, I imagine him looking German. With blond hair, blue eyes, and light skin. I also like to think Dr Julian was German. (Was this influenced by my German ancestry? Who knows?)

Cole: You would not believe how many times I had to redraw this man's face. Haha! I just could find that sweet spot! That face that perfectly encapsulated his strong, but gentle personality. But I think I did it! His outfit is based on his Oni Trilogy Gi, with orange detailing. And he has his Island ponytail and bandana. I absolutely loved that hair style on him. So I had to use it! And if you'll notice, he has a beautiful tattoo on his right arm, with his symbol in the center. I imagine him being half Maori, from his mother's side. And the tattoo was inspired by Maori tattoos I saw pictures of. I'm not too sure how accurate those images were. But hopefully I hit the mark.

Lloyd: Finally! Our green Ninja Lloyd! His outfit was inspired by two things. Dragons, and his outfit from the Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitsu seasons. I gave him a beautiful golden dragon and cloud pattern on his clothes, a leather arm guard, and shoulder pads. If you look closer, you'll also see he has cat-like dragon eyes which pays homage to his dragon and Oni heritage. I like to think that depending on his emotions, his eyes will go from slits, to big and wide. So they are good indicators for his mood. I also imagine him being Japanese. But his powers give him his classic blond hair and green eyes. I'm very happy with this design. His hair, eyes, and face all look exactly how I see him in my head.

Well, that's all. I hope you enjoyed these designs and notes! I assure you, you will see more of the them.

Bye! - ✒️🐉

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unknownperson246 · 6 months ago

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hhhhiiiiiiiii HIIIIII OMG I LOVE UR FICSSSS AAAAAHHH

could you do one where duff and fem reader are cuddling n stuff gettin all lovey like he’s complimenting her a lot like telling her how much he loves her n stuff so reader wants to show him how much she loves and cares for him by giving him a toe curling leg shaking orgazmic blowjob

sorry if that’s too much or too little I’m not good at explaining things☹️

Hiii Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Lightning

Words: 446

warnings: *smut* *fluff* *m receiving*

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

You and Duff were always sweet and kind to each other. You both love each other like crazy. You were lying down on the couch while your feet were on his lap. He was paying attention to the TV where the movie you both were watching was playing.

“Y/N that reminds me of us” Duff chuckles.

“Yeah. You are so perfect Duff” You chuckle while your hand plays with his hair.

“Baby you are just absolutely gorgeous. I love everything about you. I love your body and everything about it.” Duff says while his hands remain on your feet.

“I love you, Duff.” You say to him.

“I love you too honey,” Duff says looking at you.

“Hey come here let's cuddle,” you say to him while you gently grab his body with your hands.

Duff comes to your arms and you both hug lying down on the couch. A couple of minutes you have an idea and start to rub Duff's cock.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” You say to Duff smirking

Duff makes small noises as you continue to rub his cock that was under his pants. He grabs the remote that was next to him and he pauses the movie.

“I'd love that baby,” He says to you as he gets up from the couch. He undoes his belt and his cock springs out after he drops his underwear.

“Baby,” He softly moans as he feels the cool air swaying around on his cock.

Your mouth grabs the tip of his cock. He starts to moan while he is standing up.

“Oh baby,” He says while he grabs your hair.

Your mouth slides up and down his cock. His cock eventually makes its way down your throat. You're choking hard on his cock. You feel like you're about to gag but you hold it in. His cock eventually shifts deeper inside of your throat.

“Baby don't stop now just keep going I’m almost there I promise,” He says out of breath. He is about to leave his orgasm inside your mouth.

You can feel his legs shaking and his hand instinctively grabs your head which makes his cock shift deeper down your throat.

“Fuck Y/N” He moans so loud.

When you finally finished giving him a blow job he came.

“Y/N you just gave me the best blowjob I ever had in my life.” He says while he kisses your lips.

“It was the most toe-curling leg-shaking blowjob.” He says.

Duff pulls his pants on and he puts his belt back on. You both lay back on the couch and finish the movie that was playing.

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m4y4wasnthere · 6 months ago

Note

Please do soc reader x sodapop!!!! I’m sure he would be one that wouldn’t actually mind that you’re a soc

soc!reader x sodapop

warnings: suggestive hcs at end, separated ofc!

a/n: this is super cute!!! i definitely think Soda would be the most likely in all thr gang to end up w a soc, its his movie star handsomeness that leaves heads turning 🌝

you guys obv first met at the DX

you drove your white/pink mustang up to a gas pump and you walked into the store looking for (your) favorite candy bar

you ended up having to go to the register since she couldnt find it and might as well pay for her pump

and then BOOM eye contact. 2 extremely gorgeous people meeting each other

You could’ve sworn they sold [candy bar] here and tried scurrying around the store in all directions before finally giving up. You hesitantly walked up to the register waiting for the guy to turn back around.

Your jaw slightly dropped when he turned. He was stunning.

“Hey pretty lady, do you need help with anything?” He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. His smile was absolutely perfect.

“H-hi.. yea, uh, wow.” You mentally facepalmed at your words escaping your thoughts. Your hand flew quickly to your mouth in embarrassment. He chuckles at your compliment.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that- Uh, I’m looking for [candy bar] and was curious if you guys had it? Also I wanna pay for pump 3.”

“Its alright beautiful. Your lucky, we do have that bar, its my favorite too! Let me get it real quick for ya.”

He walks to the back and you cant help but start fawning over him. You blush and giggle thinking about how nice he was despite being a greaser, he called you pretty and-

He comes back and places the bar on the desk. “Pump 3 you said, right?”

“Yeah, thats right.” You reach into your white mini purse for some cash but he interrupts you.

“Its on me dollface, its not everyday a goregous girl like you walks into my gas station.”

“Wow uhm I- I dont even know what to say, thank you-…?”

“Sodapop. Sodapop Curtis. Have a nice day…?”

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You blush and shyly shake his hand.

“I hope I see you around gorgeous.”

He winks at you before walking to the back of the shop again. You stand there shocked, flushed and elated. You just got called gorgeous by him.

When you get home, you find his number written on the back of the bar and you decide to give him a call. 🤭

Sodapop is used to getting alot of attention from girls, i mean he’s literally gorgeous.

But he always makes sure to tell them that he belongs to the most prettiest girl ever.

He won’t immediately tell them to go away if they aren’t actually doing any harm, but he’ll get more assertive if they become touchy

No matter how you see yourself physically, he thinks the WORLD of you

He is head over heels, whenever he loves someone, HE LOVES HARD

You guys took it slow, he explained what happened with Sandy very early on since he didn’t want to get your hopes up

But you were very understanding to him, especially with taking things slow

He had such a huge crush on you after that, already so into you just from how nice you were

When you first met the gang, they already know so much about you from how much Soda talks about you

“Hi everyone, um, I dont know if or what Soda has said about me but my name is Y/n.”

The gang all looked at you and gave small introductions, Two-Bit spoke up.

“Ah so, you’re the broad who keeps making Soda giggle like a little kid at the telephone every night.”

You blushed and started laughing.

“Stop it Two-bit” Soda said giggling. (guys im picturing this like a girl saying stawpp itttt 🤭🤭)

He likes referring to you as princess, dollface, any nickname that compliments you in some way (beautiful, pretty, gorgeous etc etc)

You guys usually hangout at his house, the DX, or you go with him and Steve (including whatever broad Steve is with) kind’ve like double dates

He would so be the boyfriend who brings a boombox to your window, leave flower petals, light candles, EVERYTHING

You guys are so pda everywhere, the gang always makes jokes about it

Your parents were skeptical when first meeting him since 1. He was a grease and 2. He was a drop-out, but they realized how much of a gentleman he was

They sometimes still get a bit on the fence about ti, but for the most part, they see he isnt just a regular greaser (they’re thinking of Dallas Winston.)

• more suggestive ones •

He loves praising you, he doesn’t usually degrade or do anything on the meaner side but he can go to some extents if you’re into it

Not into full on quickies, but wouldn’t mind receiving a bj from you in the back of the DX or fingering you if you guys need to let off some unattended “needs”

Always makes sure you finish first, he knows how girls lie about it and the first fee times you were intimate, he really made sure that whatever he was doing was actually making you feel good

His favorite body part of yours is your face, he loves the way you look at him with so much love, how pretty you look when sucking him off, the expressions you make when he is legit destroying you (☠️)

His favorite position is missionary. He feels like its the most loving position, he can see if your actually enjoying it, can change pace and how rough he is easily, but also really good access to your chest, neck and your clit

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

a/n: pls send more reqs. idk what to write 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

#the outsiders #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop curtis #sodapop x reader #sodapop headcanons #sodapop x y/n #sodapop imagine #soc!reader #soc #the outsiders sodapop curtis #sodapop patrick curtis #sodapop the outsiders

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 1 year ago

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Psycho Analysis: Snowflame

(WARNING! This analysis contains C-C-C-COCAINE!)

Imagine this absurd concept: A supervillain cartel boss whose powers are fueled by him getting high off his own supply. Imagine too that this man wears a ridiculous outfit, and exists to be an anti-drug PSA that fails epically because he makes doing drugs look awesome. Now also imagine that everything about him is played completely straight without a single bit of acknowledgment of how absurd and campy the whole thing is.

That, my friends, is Snowflame.

The New Guardians is a comic series that would have been long forgotten as a crusty relic of the late 80s if not for giving the world the absolute coolest villain ever conceived. Snowflame has amassed a cult following the likes of which would make Jim Jones envious, due to the sheer absurdity of his existence and the pure unadulterated action movie villain charm of his dialogue. He’s perhaps one of the most minor villains out there with only a handful of appearances to his name, but he’s loved more than villains who’ve appeared twenty times as much as him.

I’m here to show you why.

Motivation/Goals: Snowflame is a cartel leader, and so he really wants to peddle drugs. Guess which drug is his forte. Go on, guess. And that’s really all there is to him! I need to reiterate that his threat as a cartel leader is played completely and utterly straight even as he spouts off the hammiest dialogue you’ve ever seen and literally gets a power up by snorting coke. This is the very core of his appeal, in that he is something genuinely terrifying and threatening but presented in a way only a comic book can pull off.

Of course, his true motivation is far, far simpler.

Look at this man. That is the face of a man who exists solely to snort illicit substances up his nose. He lives to be high. That is the extent of his desires, and all else is second to that simple goal. As long as he can ignite and continue to be the instrument of cocaine's will, he is satisfied.

Final Fate: Every single time Snowflame shows up, he dies. In his initial appearance, he apparently blows up, but three decades later, he makes his coke-fueled return to do battle with Catwoman, and despite inhaling enough cocaine to kill an elephant, a feat that should theoretically make him nigh invincible, he fucking dies.

...Or does he? Snowflame returns yet again in Peacemaker Tries Hard! Here he does battle with, you guessed it,

...who puts a poison dart frog in his cocaine and kills him.

Maybe. My theory is that Snowflame is the Kenny of the DC universe, and whenever some bastard kills him his coke-fueled powers just respawn him the next day.

Best Scene: While his fight against Catwoman is unfortunately lackluster as ordained by the writers (Selina is not lasting two seconds against Snowflame and his coke-fueled powers under realistic circumstances), it gave us one of the most gorgeous and badass panels ever made:

Really brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?

Best Quote: Yeah, there’s no fucking contest here, it’s this:

Final Thoughts & Score: I think I speak for all of us when I say Snowflame is one of the greatest fucking characters ever conceived.

Everything about him is a towering testament to what makes the medium of comic books great. The best villains tend to be the wildest and most out-there concepts, like a giant alien starfish that mind controls people, or a gay gorilla in love with a brain in a jar, or a giant racist communist egg. And don’t even get me started on the villains the Doom Patrol fights! Snowflame is the epitome of that; he is what would happen if Tony Montana was a DC supervillain by way of Captain Planet. He is absurd, over-the-top, and so goddamn cool.

It’s very obvious they were trying to do an anti-drug PSA here given the time the comic was released, but it absolutely falls flat on its face when the strawman constructed to be defeated so that the lesson might be dispersed is an absolute lunatic who dresses in colorful spandex and spouts off the most epic lines to ever come out of a villain’s mouth. Everything about him is absurd, but unlike something like Egg Fu he’s absurd in a tasteful and cool way rather than a shockingly racist way. Snowflame is just a dude who snorts cocaine to gain superpowers, it’s as simple as that and yet it’s also completely bonkers.

It’s genuinely unsurprising that this guy managed to get such a massive cult following that he spawned a fanmade webcomic and then got to pop up in the comics again over three decades after his supposed death. And it’s said cult following that has allowed him to pop up time and time again, even getting an appearance in the fourth season of Harley Quinn. I’m sure you can guess that I’m part of that massive cult fanbase, and I can only dream of writing a villain as incredible and grandiose as this drug-addled madman. Infinity/10 isn’t a real score, so he’ll have to settle for a 10/10 instead.

...Oh yeah, remember in the Egg Fu review when I said I wasn’t going to review Hemo-Goblin?

Psycho Analysis: Hemo-Goblin

This is gonna be really short, because there is so little to this guy. He is a one-shot, but boy what a fucking shot he is. Hemo-Goblin is a racist vampire created by South African white supremacists to give members of the New Guardians AIDS. You read that right. This is a racist AIDS vampire.

Now, unlike Egg Fu, who was a horrible racist caricature created from topical anti-communist sentiments of the time, Hemo-Goblin was seemingly created with better intentions. But you know what they say about intentions; the road to Hell is paved with good ones. I get wanting to do a commentary on the AIDS crisis, and I don’t think it’s out of the question for a superhero book to handle such a thing, but maybe having an AIDS-powered vampire give HIV to a Jamaican woman and a gay man isn’t the most tasteful and nuanced way to do this.

Oh, and by the end of his only appearance, he dies of AIDS in jail.

I’m not gonna lie, guys: I kinda love this stupid fucking creature. His weird design, the absurdity of his concept, and the awful execution of his premise makes him memorable for all the wrong reasons, but he’s memorable nonetheless. I think if Snowflame didn’t exist and wasn’t the coolest villain ever, more people would talk about the insanity that is Hemo-Goblin, though having a single appearance before dying and never appearing again doesn’t help his case much. Still, he’s just cazy enough to earn himself a 3.5/10, so he’s got that going for him.

#Psycho Analysis #DC #Snowflame #Hemo-Goblin #The New Guardians

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moonchildreads · 2 years ago

Text

small town

Chapter 16 - Let's Hear It for the Boy

IN THIS CHAPTER: Science fiction double feature, rotten eggs, and Eddie turns 20 [12.2k]

WARNINGS: bullying (mentions of racism and fatphobia), childhood trauma (hair trauma, child neglect, toxic masculinity), one use of a homophobic slur (f-word), mild spoilers for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Exorcist (specific mentions of the crucifix scene, if you've seen the movie, you know what this is about)

A/N: shout out to my one and only @gutterratt for helping me figure out my way through old horror movies! i'm a wuss so i relied heavily on her opinions to make this work (also read a few entire scripts and scared myself lmao). thank you for being the best teacher i could have asked for. 10 more days until i get to hug the shit out of you <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off-key But that's all right by me, yeah

Thursday, May 15th - 1986

On Eddie’s 20th birthday it rained cats and dogs. There was a light shower during the early morning which stopped at around 10 only to come back with a vengeance after lunch, and by the time the school day had ended, the weather was warm and humid with a sky-obscuring fog that made it seem like it was much later than it actually was. Eddie, as he always did when it rained, offered to take Gareth home so he gave his friend his keys and asked him and Dottie to wait in the van while he finished up a private conversation with Mrs. Vaughn, his Drawing teacher. She was quite impressed with how his portfolio was shaping up, and wanted to know more about the subjects he’d chosen to portray in his art. Some talks were meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Gareth left Dottie at her locker where she was fighting to fit Eddie’s birthday present in her backpack without absolutely destroying the muffin she’d baked for him during Home Ec and headed towards the parking lot to wait for his friends in the safety of the van. Dottie had barely managed to zip up her backpack when a pair of pink sneakers came up to where she was kneeling.

“Do you need help?” a warm, melodic voice asked.

Dottie looked up to find Chrissy Cunningham, the current Queen of Hawkins High, smiling at her like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t wearing her full cheerleading uniform that day; instead she had chosen cuffed jeans and a lovely cream blouse, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Wow, Dottie thought without an ounce of shame for ogling. She’s gorgeous. Realizing she had been staring up at the kind (almost) stranger, she quickly stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, no, thank you! I’ve got it,” Dottie said, and Chrissy smiled even wider if it was even possible.

“You’re Dottie Burke, right? We’re in World History together, you sit with Jeff Patton two seats in front of me?”

“Yup, that’s me! And you’re Chrissy Cunningham, you sit with, um, Melissa?”

“Yes, Melissa Levine,” the blonde’s eyes brightened up, pleased that this conversation was going smoothly. “I know you’re best friends with Eddie so could you give this to him for me?”

Chrissy presented a shiny green gift bag to her. It was carefully sealed with a big transparent sticker from the store where it had been purchased from and a huge silvery bow was tied to the handles. Of all the things she had been expecting her to pull out behind her back, a birthday gift for Eddie hadn’t been in her Top 10 List at all.

“Are you sure? He’ll come back in a sec if you want to give it to him yourself, he’s just talking to a teacher.”

“Yeah, I think he already knows what it is,” Chrissy waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’d wait for him but my boyfriend is in the car already so…”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can give this to Ed for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, you’re so nice!” she said, beaming at her. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong, Eddie said we’d get along so I thought “well, what am I waiting for”, right?”

“You’re fine, seriously,” Dottie laughed; Chrissy’s bubbly energy was contagious. “He told me we’d get along too. Something about you liking Queen and owning all the records?”

“Yes! Gosh, I love Queen! Do you? We should hang out sometime, we can listen to them together.”

“Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Have fun on your date!”

“How did you know I’m going on a date?” Chrissy said, mild intrigue on her face.

“You just look really pretty and you mentioned your boyfriend so I thought you might be going on a date with him,” Dottie explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I like your makeup.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping for a moment.

Chrissy wasn’t a stranger to people telling her she was pretty. She had grown up going to pageants and being paraded as a doll by her mother but the compliments were always the same and regarding things she didn’t care about, like how big her Mom had teased her hair, and how thin she looked like in that formal gown. No one had ever told her something she did for herself, like her daily makeup, was pretty. She gave Dottie a big toothy smile, genuine and warm.

“Thank you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks, it was my Mom’s. It has pockets!” the brunette said, shoving a hand inside the left pocket of her short black jumper dress to demonstrate.

“I love that! Not enough dresses have pockets, it’s a shame.”

They said their goodbyes again and Chrissy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dottie to consider that maybe she really did need more girl friends. She loved her Hellfire boys, and of course Erica was great, but she had missed the kind of special warmth female friendships gave - the gentle toughness she’d always admired in her Aunts’ actions. Now that she knew what a real friend was supposed to look like thanks to the guys, she realized that whatever she had thought Jeannie was during her life in New York hadn’t exactly been a good example of true friendship. Dottie wondered if, given enough time, Chrissy could become a real friend. She was, after all, good friends with Eddie already and he seemed like a fine judge of character so far.

“You ready to bounce?” Eddie asked, hurrying down the hallway to where she was still standing.

“Yeah! This is for you, by the way,” Dottie said, giving him the gift bag. “It’s from Chrissy.”

“Chris- damnit, I told her not to do it,” he shook his head, a fond smile gracing his face. He accepted the bag and shoved it inside his backpack to protect it from the rain; he had a pretty good idea of what it was but he’d look at it once they were home. “Come on, let’s go.”

He guided Dottie towards the parking lot with a hand on the back of her bag, keeping her close as they ran out into the rain and towards the dry seats of his van. They were almost there when Eddie noticed someone curled into themselves near the furthest column that supported the overhang roof at the entrance, a figure huddled up on the floor wearing what looked like Gareth’s red plaid shirt. He looked at his van and saw instantly that his friend was not sitting inside waiting for them, and the vehicle wasn’t even on. What the fuck, he thought bitterly, taking note that the door on the driver’s side was covered in what looked like a runny viscous liquid. The rain was washing it away, but the white and light brown shells on the floor were enough to confirm his suspicions. Switching gears quickly, he pulled Dottie under his arm and guided her towards Gareth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking up at him, arm up trying to keep the rain out of her face.

“Gareth!” he yelled for an answer, and the younger boy lifted his teary head up from his knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Dottie exclaimed, rushing to their friend.

“They were waiting for Eddie. Said it was a birthday present,” he sniffed, lifting his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve and putting it down instantly when he saw it was filthy. He smelled like rotten eggs.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Eddie said, crouching next to him.

“Not your fault,” Gareth shrugged. “You always cover for me so… guess it was time I covered you for once.”

“This has happened before?” Dottie asked, and both boys looked at her like it was common sense. “Who- who did this to you? How many times?”

“It isn’t always eggs,” Gareth sniffed again. “One time they threw mud at Donny, called him a pig. Gave Dustin a swirly a couple of times but they don’t touch Mike anymore since they found out Nancy Wheeler is his sister. Andy is the worst, he, um-” he interrupted himself and looked at Eddie.

“Andy Humphrey,” Eddie sighed. “He put a bunch of racist notes in Jeff’s locker for a couple of months last year. We saw him doing it but Higgins didn’t do shit about it. He’s on the basketball team, always wears that stupid hat.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Dottie said. “He’s in my AP Spanish class, he’s barely passing. He cheated on our last pop quiz, he knows I saw because he winked at me like he was trying to get me on his side.”

“Almost everyone on the basketball team sucks,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what Lucas is doing with them.”

“Lucas?”

“Lucas Sinclair. Erica’s brother?” Eddie explained. “He used to play with us before he decided being a freak wasn’t good enough for him.”

“I mean… I don’t blame him. I smell like a sewer,” Gareth grimaced.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you home,” Dottie said, patting his knee to get him to stand up.

“I’ll just walk, I’m gonna get the van dirty.”

“No way, man, not in this thunderstorm. Get in the back,” Eddie instructed.

The three of them headed back to the van, the rain not relenting for a single second. On the bright side, Eddie’s door wasn’t dirty anymore, clean from the constant water streaming upon the metal. On the other hand, Gareth was soaked and shivering by the time he sat himself on a plastic crate at the back of the van, keeping himself away from the blankets and pillows, windows cracked open to let cool air in and rotten egg smell out. They drove to Gareth’s house in silence, only the occasional sniffling coming from the dirty boy wallowing in his own misery could be heard under the vehicle’s rumbling.

When they arrived and pulled up to Gareth’s garage, Eddie wasn’t expecting Dottie to get out too, leaving behind her backpack tucked under the co-pilot seat. He followed the pair to the front door, heard the keys tinkling against each other as his friends walked inside and hurried up to get out of the rain. In the foyer, Dottie peeled off her cardigan and sneakers before directing Gareth to his bathroom.

“Eddie, can you get a chair from the kitchen?” she asked, already pushing Gareth down the hallway.

Eddie complied with her request, bringing one of the aluminum chairs with pleather seats into the Jack and Jill that connected Gareth’s bedroom with his sister’s. Gareth was peeling his dirty sleeveless shirt and sweatshirt off his body, Dottie kneeling near his feet helping him take his rain soaked shoes off.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at Eddie before looking up at Gareth. “You sit.”

“Why can’t I just take a shower?” he complained, but still sat down on the chair.

“Because you’re not only covered in gunk, there’s eggshells in your hair. Let me get them out and we’ll leave you to shower in peace, okay?” she pulled back the bath curtain and got his shampoo and conditioner, coming to stand next to the sink.

The birthday boy watched her work, carefully picking all the shells out of Gareth’s hair and throwing them into the pink waste bin that was hidden next to the toilet. She got rid of the knots in his hair with a glittery blue plastic comb that clearly belonged to Gretchen, wetting it with warm water between each pass. Eddie could feel something bubbling up his chest, but it wasn’t anything like the usual jealousy he swore he had stopped feeling days ago. No, this was something different, much more deep seated, clawing up his throat and threatening to tear his insides apart leaving no prisoners behind. This was something he’d been ignoring for a very long time, from before he even knew a Gareth Coleman or a Dorothy Burke. This padlock had been sealed shut with rust ages ago, the key long forgotten somewhere no one, not even Eddie, would find it anymore.

Dottie poured water on Gareth’s scalp with her hands, making him shiver once and then giggle at himself for his reaction. She worked the shampoo into his curls, pulling his hair once to make him wince when he made a stupid comment that Eddie wasn’t listening. He watched the suds fall into the pure white porcelain of the sink bowl as she washed them away with the utmost patience and care.

“You should be a hairdresser,” Gareth said, eyes closed while he relaxed into her touch.

“I could never. You know that smell when you walk into a salon? I fucking hate it,” she said, snorting at the end.

When was the last time Eddie had gone to a salon for a haircut? Not since living with Wayne, that’s for sure. The last time he’d had a haircut he hadn’t given himself in his own bathroom was back in middle school, when a neighbor buzzed all his hair off during that horrible lice outbreak he’d told Dottie about. He remembered that before he turned 12, before she passed away calmly in her sleep, his Grandma kept his hair rather short, like it had been that summer he’d spent in her care when he was eight. And before that… Eddie didn’t like to remember before that.

Dottie shook the bottle of conditioner until a small blob hit her palm and began weaving her fingers into Gareth’s curls. They were still chatting quietly, their long haired friend hovering in the hallway near the door. Eight years. Eight years since anyone had touched Eddie’s hair, since anyone that wasn’t himself had run a brush through his curls and snapped the damaged ends off with a pair of sharp scissors. He hated getting haircuts from his Grandma - not because she was bad at doing them, but because she always pulled at the knots a little bit too harshly, muttering about how boys with longer hair were unkempt and unruly. And Eddie loved his Grandma so much, and she loved him so much in return, but in those moments there was no denying that she was his father’s mother, and getting haircuts from her only reminded him of Wyatt Munson calling him a faggot because his curls reached the collar of his school shirt before he dropped him off at a cheap salon and returned five hours later, smelling of booze and nicotine and regrets.

Eddie used to feel so guilty whenever he went to the salon. Wyatt would treat him like absolute shit, and then he’d sob quietly in the chair while a middle aged lady told him things like “boys don’t cry” and “it’s just hair, kid, don’t be a brat”, only for Wyatt to return and ask her if she’d turned his little girl into a proper boy. A while back, when Eddie first got his driver’s license, he drove past that salon on his way to Donny’s family restaurant and felt like he’d won the damn lottery when he saw it had been closed for several years. Fuck that place, he’d thought and promptly sped up.

“Hey,” a hand touched his arm, making him jump lightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, blinking a few times and focusing on Dottie’s worried face in front of him. “I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“We’re done so… we can go now,” she said, not pushing him for an answer.

She’d seen that face on him before, back when they were arguing about his moldy ceiling, and immediately decided they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of Gareth. The younger boy had a small towel on his head like a nun’s headdress to stop his curls from dripping all over the floor as he gathered his dirty clothes and walked past them towards the laundry room.

“Sorry about all this,” said Gareth, standing under his front door’s frame.

“Wasn’t your fault, man. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” Eddie reassured him, waiting for Dottie to finish putting on her sneakers.

“Better me than you.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you pick the movie tomorrow? Anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Just… don’t pick anything stupid, okay? The Boogey Man sucked ass.”

“You have no fucking taste,” Gareth complained, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, hold on, are we gonna watch a horror film?” Dottie asked in the direction of the younger boy.

“It’s tradition, we always watch horror movies on our birthdays.”

“Can we not do that this time? You know I hate horror. We can do a thriller, that’s like… horror-adjacent, right?”

“Horror-adjac… Dude,” Gareth turned to Eddie, seeking an ally.

It’s not that Eddie was dying to watch a horror film, he really wasn’t. He was happy to watch whatever most of the time, like when Jeff had insisted on watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone for some weird reason and he’d gone along for the ride because, well, any movie was still a movie. Eddie loved stories, the more outlandish the better. He wasn’t about to complain about two hours of mindless entertainment, regardless of the subject of the VHS tape in the player. Caught between his two friends, one who looked at him with exasperation at even suggesting a change of plans and the other one with the cutest goddamned pout and rounded eyes he had ever seen, well, he was only human. If Jesus had stumbled, why wouldn’t he do it too?

“Maybe we can skip the horror this time,” he said.

“Come on, man, don’t let her peer-pressure you!”

“Peer-pressure? God, you’re such a little-”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Jesus,” Eddie lifted his hands, getting between them. “How about this? We do a double feature. You each pick one movie and you can’t complain about what the other one chooses, alright? It’s my birthday, don’t make me uninvite you.”

“But-”

“Take it or leave it, Gareth, it’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Gareth grumbled.

“Thank you,” Dottie said, still looking apprehensive but not wanting to push the argument further.

This was a tradition she hadn’t been a part of since its inception and she wasn’t going to fight her way in when they were so graciously holding the door open for her. Friends do stuff they don’t enjoy to make other friends happy sometimes, it’s okay. They’d do it for me. I’ll just… suck it up and watch the floor for two hours, she thought as they said their goodbyes and ran under the rain to get to Eddie’s van. He was excitedly going on about the cake Wayne had gotten for him on the way to the trailer, and Dottie couldn’t find it in herself to care about what horrifying movie Gareth was gonna subject her too when Eddie looked so happy to spend his special day with his Uncle and her.

“Wayne, we’re home!” Eddie yelled, trying to put his key in to open his front door.

Dottie was standing very still in front of Eddie, his chest to her back and arms on either side of her while he wrestled with his keys, shielding her from the storm with his body. The copious raindrops falling on them pinged off the leather jacket that was keeping him cozy and dry, soaking his hair that curtained Dottie’s head from above. She was holding both their backpacks against her chest, trying to protect them and their contents from the rain.

“Wayne!” he yelled again, hitting the door twice with his fist.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” the older man replied from the inside, hurrying up to let them in. "Where were you?"

"Got held up at school," said Eddie, guiding Dot in and closing the door quickly behind his back before shedding his wet jacket. "Talked to that teacher I told you about last night. She said I have talent."

"Coulda told you that myself," Wayne smiled at him, pulling his big boy into a hug and patting his back. "Happy birthday, Ed."

"Thanks, Wayne," Eddie melted into his Uncle. They didn't hug often, less so now that he wasn't a little kid anymore, but if you asked him, his Uncle Wayne gave the best hugs in the entire world because whenever he gave you one, he definitely meant it. "Can we have cake now?"

"Get the candles," Wayne jerked his head towards the kitchen where a set of barely used birthday candles were waiting in the bottom drawer ready to grant a new wish.

While Eddie busied himself putting the candles on a small chocolate cake, Dottie cleared the coffee table, setting his gifts on the floor. There were three presents: Chrissy's shiny green bag that had gotten a bit smushed in Eddie's backpack, a thin rectangle in bright blue paper, and a little package smaller than a hand. Wayne added two to the pile wrapped in the same red paper; one looked soft, the other one was a square box. Dottie's funfetti muffin ended up with its own candle next to the cake.

"Light me up, princess," Eddie said, pointing to a BIC lighter that had been abandoned in the coffee table bowl at some point.

"I can't," Dottie admitted, looking embarrassed. "I don't know how to use that kind of lighter, the flick thing scares me."

"The flick thing?"

"You know, the thingy you have to roll with your thumb? That scrapes something inside and sparks up?"

"The sparkwheel?"

"I don't know what it's called!" Eddie held back a grin. "Don't laugh at me, I don't like how close the spark is to the finger. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, I don't want to burn myself!"

"No, yeah, absolutely. You're totally right" he said, fighting a chuckle. God, she's so fucking cute. He reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a small matchbox. “Here, use these.”

“The Hideout,” she read aloud on the front of the box. “That’s where you guys play on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah, they have a big bowl of these on the bar. I grab a couple every few weeks, haven’t bought real matches in years.”

“Very smart,” she said, lighting the two candles at the same time Wayne found his old camera tucked away in their storage closet.

Eddie knelt in front of the coffee table, closing his eyes with only one wish in mind. Dottie and Wayne sang to him and he smiled, the sudden flash of the camera in his Uncle’s hands painting his eyelids pink for a brief second. His 19th birthday had been tainted with the knowledge that he was going to be held back for the second time in a row. Wayne had taken him to a diner that night; they’d gotten pancakes for dinner and Eddie had cried and apologized for being such a goddamn failure. The eldest Munson had simply let his tears dry before he’d said, very matter-of-factly: I didn’t finish high school, do you think I’m a failure? What’s important is that you keep tryin’ and see things through even if they get hard. Are you a quitter, Ed?

Please, let ‘86 be my year, Eddie thought as hard as he could, sending his prayer to the universe before he opened his eyes and blew both candles out with one single breath. Dottie clapped and hollered, making them laugh. Wayne nudged her side with his elbow, nodding once in his nephew’s direction.

“Come on, you two. Gimme a nice smile,” he lifted the camera again.

Dottie hurried to sit next to Eddie and he didn’t waste a second pulling her to him, cheeks pressed against each other’s. She smiled brightly, the muffin she’d made for him in her hands like a delicate flower, and his arms around her waist, tongue out in a funny face. Wayne committed the memory to film before Dottie lifted herself up onto her knees, making grabby hands at him, Eddie still holding onto her.

“I’ll take one of you two, Mr. Wayne!” she offered.

“How about we take a group picture?” he said, sitting on the couch behind them and turning the camera around.

The two teens huddled up at his feet, his nephew giving him instructions to frame everyone better (“You gotta go higher, Wayne, half your head will be out of the picture!”). After the flash went off, Dottie went to find a knife to cut the cake while Eddie tore into his gifts, starting with Wayne’s packages. He seemed to already know what the soft looking one was, but still ripped the paper with gusto, a childlike glint in his eyes.

Wayne’s gifts had clearly been picked from a thrift shop, but that didn’t damp Eddie’s excitement in the slightest. He thanked his Uncle profusely for his two new shirts and boxy jean shorts for the summer before moving onto the mystery box which turned out to be a thermos flask with a slightly faded Snoopy print.

“No way!” he said, gleefully. “I’ve been trying to get one of these for ages!”

“I know,” Wayne said, proudly. “Heard you yappin’ about it so I asked Loretta to hold one for me if she ever saw them. Said they got a few of them a couple of months ago so I went and snatched one for you.”

“A couple of months ago? Where did you hide it all this time?”

“Under the seat in my truck,” he laughed, and Dottie was reminded once again of how similar the Munson men truly were.

“Gonna start checking down there around Christmas,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. He passed the flask to Dottie to examine who traded it for a plate of cake.

“This is really cute, Mr. Wayne. Wish mine was pretty like this one.”

“You got one of these?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my Grandpa gave me his old one a few years ago. It looks so ugly, it’s like… plaid? But it keeps water cool in the summer so I can’t really complain. He got it for his fishing trips but he never used it so I got it instead. The perks of being his only grandchild,” she waved her fingers.

“You don’t have cousins?” Wayne asked, digging into his own piece of cake while Eddie picked a new present to open.

“No, both my parents are only children. All my Aunts and Uncles are their friends. I’ve got a big family, but I’m not blood related to any of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his attention on the long thin box in his hands.

Chrissy’s gift had turned out to be a red tie. The fabric was soft and silky, slightly shiny, and the tie itself was on the thinner side. There was a simple white card in the bag, it only said “For: Eddie, From: Chrissy” but she’d dotted the I’s with tiny hearts. He caressed the side of the box lightly, staring at it in wonder. He’d never owned a tie, much less one that looked as expensive as this one. When he’d asked Chrissy for advice on what to wear for prom, he’d never imagined she’d take it upon herself to make sure he was presentable. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her for her birthday, maybe Dottie would know how to help.

“That’s nice,” Wayne said, craning his neck to see into the box. “That one yours, Dot?”

“No, this one’s Chrissy’s,” she replied.

“Who’s Chrissy?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie said, realizing he’d never talked to his Uncle about his most unlikely friend. “We’re in Sociology together.”

Dottie knew he was lying; Eddie only shared Sociology with Jeff but it wasn’t like he could tell Wayne he’d become friends with a cheerleader by selling her weed, could he? She noticed how suspicious his Uncle was by his statement and decided to help him out.

“I’m in World History with her, she’s really kind,” Dottie said, making Eddie look up at her too. “We were talking about Queen when you were with Mrs. Vaughn today, she said she liked my dress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah! She liked the pockets,” she smiled at him. “You gonna wear this for prom?”

“I think that’s why she got it for me,” Eddie chuckled. “I told her we’re all wearing Hellfire colors. Gareth got a red bowtie the other day.”

“I still haven’t found a dress I like or that fits right,” she huffed. “Dad said we’re gonna have to go to Indianapolis, we’ve been to every shop in Hawkins already.”

“A lot of shops closed last year ‘cause of the mall,” Wayne said, clearing up the cake plates. “Never reopened after the fire. Damn shame.”

“Can I open these ones?” Eddie interrupted, excited about the two other presents he had left on the pile.

“Sure!”

“Any special order?”

“No, they’re separate from each other.”

He decided to open the bigger one first, fairly confident about it being a book. He tore the paper to find a hardcover notebook, black with an elastic to keep it closed. It looked fancy, but not particularly special, at least not until he opened it. It was sheet music, 14 five-line staffs on every off-white page, binded and with a pocket on the back. He turned to the first sheet, blank, no lines but with a note written in familiar black ink. For my favorite rockstar, from your darling Dottie. With a little daisy at the end. He stared at it for a minute that never seemed to end and looked up at her, big rounded eyes pushing his eyebrows under his fringe.

“You were talking about wanting to write more songs for Corroded Coffin last week at practice, so I thought you might need a place to keep everything organized,” she explained, voice shy and a little soft.

“Dot, I-”

“Open the other one.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the small box, instantly recognizing it as a cassette case. He removed the paper, aware that Wayne was watching them from behind the kitchen bar while he brewed some coffee, and turned the transparent case in his hand. 1986 - E&D was written on the front, colorful stickers decorating the plastic. The song list inside only had one entry: Hot Patootie - Meatloaf (RHPS).

“Just one song?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could fill it up together. See, I wrote 1986 on this one, but we can make a new one for every year we’re friends so when we get old, we can remember what we were doing that year by the songs we chose. Like a musical scrapbook.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, launching himself from the floor and tackling her to the carpet, dissolving into giggles as she fought to sit back down.

“Stop- Jesus, Ed- I don’t like tickles, stop!” she pleaded, writhing on the floor like a worm, thankful that she was wearing colorful leggings under her skirt.

“Who doesn’t like tickles?” he lifted himself up onto hands and knees above her, ceasing the attack but still caging her under his body.

“I get nervous if I can’t breathe right,” she explained, hair fanning out like a halo around her head. Eddie felt his knees go weak. “Also, it makes me feel like I’m gonna pee myself and that’s so embarrassing.”

“Okay, gotcha. No tickling,” he pulled them both into a sitting position and smiled, wrapping one arm around her. “Thank you, I love my gifts. And I already know what song I wanna add next to the mixtape.”

“Do tell.”

“Nope,” he shook his head dramatically. “You’ll find out when it’s done.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, turning to where Wayne was watching them, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, raising his coffee to his mouth, and Eddie thought it might have been the happiest of them all.

After dishes had been washed and the rest of the cake had been put away until a certain birthday boy got the munchies at midnight, Eddie and Dottie decided to sit on the porch just outside his bedroom and leave Wayne to his devices. They lounged side by side on the old ratty couch, him working on his portfolio and her reading Pride and Prejudice out loud in an attempt to get him to finish the last book left in their compulsory reading list before finals week was upon them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounded families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

The heavy rain hitting the tin roof provided the perfect ambiance for Eddie’s limbs to start feeling heavy and his hand to begin missing the lines he was trying to stay between while he shaded his latest piece. He closed his sketchbook and slid it through his open window to keep it dry in the safety of his bedroom, quickly returning to the couch to continue hearing the tales of the Bennet sisters. He laid down on the cushions, legs hanging off the armrest and head comfortably pillowed by Dottie's lap.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is no another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

What a lovely voice, Eddie thought about Dottie, closing his eyes and letting his impressive imagination create Austen's lavish world behind his eyelids. It wasn't too high-pitched, nor too low, with the cadence of someone who already knows the story they are reading and is aware of where to pause for dramatic effect. This Bingham fellow seems nice. Is this a love triangle-angle?, he wondered. Dottie's voice turned sweet when reading Jane, demure when reading Charlotte, and bratty when reading Lydia. She would be kind when she read Bingham, disdainful when Caroline and solemn when Darcy. But Eddie's favorite so far was her Lizzie voice, which turned sensible and self-assured, yet playful and naïve. He supposed it was because she used her own voice for her most preferred Bennet sister.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

A page was turned, and Dottie’s hand that had been propped up on her armrest fell onto her lap, where it began playing with Eddie's hair. She had touched it before, albeit briefly, but never had she had the opportunity to absent-mindedly run her fingers through his curls like this. They were so much softer than she had expected. She continued this soothing motion, and Eddie kept his eyes closed, leaving her to wonder if his unusual stillness was due to him falling asleep under her touch. She stopped, not wanting to disturb him when his arm shot up and his hand curled around her wrist.

"Please," he muttered in a broken voice. "Keep going."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a haircut at a salon, but he also couldn't remember the last time anyone had brushed their fingers through the strands that had grown exponentially since middle school. He couldn't recall anyone helping him wash it, blow drying it for him, pushing it out of his face. And now Dottie was showing him the type of affection and care he'd craved for since before he learned how to tie his own shoes, and the rusty padlock with the missing key was beginning to break with the slightest amount of brute force applied to it.

"Please," Eddie pleaded, and Dottie closed the book, pulling her wrist out of his hand.

"Wait here," she said, moving her thighs so he'd let her get up and promptly disappeared into the trailer.

I've finally done it, he berated himself. I finally scared her off. But she reappeared quickly carrying a cushion and a rounded brush, sitting once again on the ratty couch. She opened her legs and put the cushion on the floor between them, motioning for him to sit down. Eddie complied without questioning it, his shoulders grazing against the colorful nylon leggings that covered her inner thighs while he faced the trailer park currently plunged into darkness by the storm. The first gentle but firm pull of the plastic bristles on his scalp made him shiver. The second one broke the dam.

Dottie brushed his hair in silence, being extra careful when she encountered a knot, undoing it slowly and patiently. Eddie sobbed without fear of judgment, because even though they weren't talking about it, he knew that she understood. How could she not, growing up with a single father who had never once in his life styled long hair before hers began to grow past her shoulders? So she brushed, and he cried, and they let go of yet another invisible weight together. When she put the brush down on the cushions, Eddie expected her to say something to ask him about what was happening. Instead, he felt her fingers running once, twice through the entire length of his hair, parting a small section near the top to his left on the third time. Dottie began braiding the strands into a thin plait, securing it with a small colorful plastic hair tie, the kind Eddie knew she always carried in her bag and had used a couple of times to pull her short curls into low pigtails.

She finished the braid, and moved onto the next one, right below the first one. Dottie wove strand with strand until she had three braids on either side of his head, all thinner than her own pinky. She pulled them back into a ponytail with the rest of his hair and brushed the ends for good measure one more time before dropping her weight on the floor between Eddie and the couch. Her arms curled around his waist, his chest to his back, her hands finding his curled into tight fists on his lap.

“You look like a viking now,” she said, softly.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice frail and small but full of meaning. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck, just above his shirt, and he bit back another sob.

“Happy birthday, Ed,” she muttered, lips still pressed to his skin like she wanted to get the words permanently etched into it.

Dottie did not go back to reading out loud and Eddie didn’t fish his sketchbook from his room for the remainder of the evening. They simply sat together on the porch, tangled with one another as usual, and watched the rain fall and heard the thunder rumble until it was time for her to go home. They didn’t say anything about what had happened, but there was no need. Another padlock laid at their feet, and they weren’t afraid of busting them open anymore.

Friday, May 16th - 1986

“Fred? Fred!” Dottie called, pushing the doors to the Hawkins High newspaper room in a hurry. “Fred, are you here?”

“N-no, he’s- he went to see the nurse!” a familiar voice came from under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor and hiding between a few boxes that contained blank bundles of paper, was Nancy Wheeler. Her pretty calf-length pastel rainbow skirt covered her bent legs, concealing her feet from anyone who walked by. She had been crying, brown mascara staining the skin under her eyes but she clearly wasn’t anymore, face dry and eyes only slightly swollen. When she noticed Dottie coming to kneel next to her, she quickly hid the paper she was holding in her cardigan pocket. They didn’t know each other very well yet, were friendly at best, but Dottie knew that Nancy didn’t have many friends in school. She was highly regarded as a good student, on track to being the valedictorian with a bright future ahead but she could be a bit of a loner when she wasn’t being followed around by Fred Benson or another newspaper club member.

Nancy often chose to spend most of her time in the library studying or working on something for The Weekly Streak, building her journalism portfolio to parade around in search of internships when she left Hawkins for college in Boston. Dottie wasn’t one to gossip with anyone that wasn’t named Gareth Coleman, but Fred liked to talk. On one occasion when the junior was assisting Dottie with an urgent task, he’d babbled on and on about Nancy, her late friend Barb, the fact that she’d been considered Hawkins royalty for a period of time while she dated some popular guy who was captain of the swimming team, and how she’d dumped him rather publicly at a Halloween party and gotten together with known weirdo Jonathan Byers. She tried to steer Fred away from the topic at the time, but he was undeterred: it was clear the boy held some sort of candle for the pretty senior, and who was Dottie to tell him to snuff it out? She’d only known them for less than a month. Still, with the knowledge that Nancy was a bit of an outcast after the tragic death of her best friend, and coupled with the fact that she was Mike’s sister, Dottie couldn’t pretend like she hadn’t seen her distress.

“You okay?” she asked, giving her editor-in-chief enough room to answer however she wanted.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nothing,” Nancy rolled her shiny blue eyes, waving a hand around. “Everything’s fine.”

“I was dropping by to leave these for Fred,” Dottie explained, showing her the stack of papers she was holding. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he was just complaining about a headache. Nothing serious.”

“Good, okay. I’ll leave this on his station and we can go get a soda. Would that be alright?”

“You want to get a soda with me?” Nancy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Of course! We can share M&Ms if you want too. I’ve known you for a month and all I know about you is that you’re going to Emerson and that Dustin thinks you’re a badass.”

“He called me badass?” she laughed, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“God, the kid loves you. Mike says he had a crush on you when they were younger.”

“Ugh, he did,” Nancy said, remembering the moment fondly. “Dustin is probably my favorite out of all my brother’s friends.”

“He’s so nice. His Mom did a great job with him.”

“Have you met Claudia? She’s quite the character,” she confided as the two girls climbed up the stairs and headed into the empty hallways side by side.

Nancy was funny. That was something Dottie hadn’t been expecting. She was polite and reserved, yes, but funny in the way people who notice things others don’t are. She carried their conversation well, asked Dottie questions to get to know her better while she answered the ones directed at her with ease. Her favorite color was pink, she liked all her classes except Math, was really excited about the release of Top Gun and was going to go see it with her Mom, Karen. She preferred Sprite to Coca-Cola, and in her opinion, the best M&Ms were the red ones, even though they all tasted the same. They sat on a bench just outside the cafeteria and talked about trivial things until they ran out of topics to explore.

“I wish we would have done this earlier,” Dottie said, popping a green candy into her mouth. “You’re really cool, Nance.”

“Thanks,” she said, chuckling shyly. “I think you might be collecting Wheeler siblings at this point. Should I let my Mom know you’re available to babysit Holly?”

“I actually have a lot of experience with babysitting. Give me until finals are done and if you need me, I’m there.”

“Speaking of babysitting, Mike mentioned you’re tutoring Eddie Munson.”

“I’m not really tutoring him, just… helping him keep his focus. We’re good friends.”

“I know. Mike,” Nancy said, like that explained everything and it actually did. “Actually, he… he mentioned you gave him advice a few times. About his girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I remember. Why are teenage boys so scared of their own feelings?”

“Tell me about it,” she scoffed, but immediately turned shy and rigid. “Could you… would it be okay if I asked you for advice too? It’s just- you are impartial in this situation and I think that’s what I need right now.”

“Sure, how can I help?” Dottie turned to her.

Nancy explained that she’d gotten a letter from her boyfriend, Jonathan. Ex-boyfriend, actually, but neither of them were good at the ex part. They had had a big argument over the phone after Spring break when post California-visit, Mike had accidentally let it slip that Jonathan didn’t want to go to Emerson with Nancy and had chosen community school instead. She hadn’t been upset about him changing his plans, but it definitely had hurt to know he’d been lying to her all this time, telling her he’d applied when he hadn’t, stringing her along for months on end. Dottie listened to Nancy retelling how she’d broken up with him, worried about if there were maybe other things he’d been hiding from her, and how Jonathan hadn’t tried to argue back once. He’d called two weeks later from a payphone outside the pizza parlor his new best friend worked at, high off his mind, crying and begging for her to take him back. Nancy had firmly said no, but that she was willing to talk more when he wasn’t on drugs.

This had happened mid-April, and Jonathan hadn’t called since. Instead, a letter addressed to Nancy had arrived that same Friday - four full pages of him not exactly asking for forgiveness, but explaining his reasoning in regards to his lies. Nancy didn’t share all the details, but the essential part was that as the eldest son of a single parent, he felt a sense of duty towards his siblings and didn’t want to move away so soon after they started high school in a new town where they had virtually to no friends and were getting bullied just for daring to exist. She did mention that his new sister Jane, Mike’s girlfriend, was still dealing with the loss of her adoptive father, so that situation on top of the move wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nancy said, at the end of her long monologue. “If he’d told me all of this before, I would have understood him. He’s right, they are all having a hard time but did he have to lie about it for an entire year?”

“I think both sides are valid,” Dottie said, offering her the last candy in the package. “He’s not wrong for wanting to help his Mom and his siblings out, but he went about it in a really shitty way and you’re allowed to feel betrayed by it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Nancy, he lied to you! It was with the best of intentions, but he still lied. If you feel like that’s a hard limit in your relationship, you should tell him that, and he should respect it. And you. He should always respect you.”

“He does, he’s… I love him.”

“You can love someone and be upset with them at the same time. Just tell him how you feel instead of avoiding each other because you don’t want to get into a fight. Trust your instincts on this one.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna call him this weekend, and if we’re done, we’re done, but at least we handled it like adults.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dottie cheered her on. “Everything will turn out okay, I have faith in you both.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, smiling. “I really needed the pep talk.”

“Anytime. I gotta run now, but I liked hanging out with you.”

“Me too. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole… girl talk thing.”

“Can’t imagine Mike being into that, no,” Dottie said, and Nancy laughed. “See you on Monday?”

“Yes. Monday. Good luck with Hellfire!”

“Good luck with Jonathan. Fight for your love, girl!” she declared dramatically while she sped away.

Nancy watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She’d have to keep an eye on Dorothy Burke from now on, but that could wait. It was Friday, Fred might be down for the count, and she had a newspaper edition to perfect before Monday morning.

Dottie had been to Family Video only twice since moving to Hawkins, once with her Dad and once with the boys, both times during a weekend. When Donny pulled into the parking lot that Friday night after Hellfire, she was fully expecting to see the same greasy dude that smelled like Cheetos she’d seen the last two times but saw instead a pretty tall girl that had her eyes glued to a black and white movie playing on the overhead TV. Gareth immediately ran to the horror section in search for the first part of their double feature, and Dottie approached the girl timidly while Donny smoked outside, waiting for Eddie and Jeff to arrive with warm pizza and fresh ice cream.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?” the taller girl smiled with tired eyes, the kind you only got if you worked retail.

“Hi! I wanted to rent The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you have it?”

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” she said, lifting the counter and guiding her towards the Musicals section. Another boy was restocking shelves labeled as Comedy next to them.

“Hi there,” he said, waving a VHS case in the air.

“Hi,” Dottie said and turned to where the girl was moving movies around, a frown on her face. “Did someone else beat me to it?”

“No, no, I know it’s here… Just can’t figure out where I put it.”

“What are you looking for?” the boy said, coming to stand above the girl, craning his neck to see the stands.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The cover’s a mouth with red lips.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved it to the Horror section,” he said, brows bunching in the middle.

“Why did you move it? It’s a musical, dingus.”

“How would I know? It says horror in the title!”

“God, you’re hopeless,” the girl shook her head, and Dottie snorted at their antics.

They bickered all the way to the Horror section, Gareth looking up with a confused expression at the scene in front of him. The tall girl moved around him with ease, finding instantly what she was looking for.

“Here you go, sorry about that,” she said, giving the VHS to Dottie.

“You picked a horror movie?” Gareth asked.

“No, it’s a musical.”

“We’re not watching a musical.”

“Why not? It’s really fun, it’s about-”

“Dot, we’re not watching lovey-dovey bullshit on movie night. Come on, pick something else.”

“No!” Dottie put her foot down. “Eddie said we both got one pick and we couldn’t complain about what the other person chose. Jeff hasn’t seen Rocky Horror and I want him to know where Hot Patootie comes from if he’s gonna be singing it for me every week!”

“It’s from a musical? Eddie said it was a Meatloaf song!”

“It is!” the tall girl interrupted with a bright smile. “Meatloaf plays Eddie in it, it’s his only song in the whole movie but it’s a classic.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dottie asked, eyes lighting up at the discovery of a kindred spirit.

“Y-yeah, it’s really good. I love how it constantly breaks the fourth wall, I mean, talking to the audience through a narrator must be one of the most well known resources in theater but it must be so fun to experience in the stage show-”

“Oh my god, yes!” Dottie interrupted her, turning her entire body to face her newest friend. “The stage show is so cool, I saw it twice at, like, the shittiest community theater ever but they killed it every single time. The material is just so good!”

“You saw it live? Where?”

“New York, I used to live there.”

“That’s so cool,” the girl said, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so maybe you two can have your own movie night and watch your girly musical together,” Gareth said, getting back to the topic. “-but we’re not gonna watch that tonight. Birthdays are for horror movies.”

“It says horror in the title, dude,” the other boy said, making Dottie chuckle. Gareth looked at her like she was betraying him.

“Come on, it’s really not bad. You’re gonna like it, I promise. There’s… there’s sex and boobies in it!”

A tense silence spread through Family Video, Dottie painfully aware that she had said something extremely weird in front of people she didn’t know. It was okay that she was using the tantalizing idea of breasts to lure Gareth into saying yes to her movie choice, but she didn’t need to make it so damn obvious she was excited about the prospect of seeing them too. The taller girl was staring at her with a wild blush spreading from her chest up to her ears, but perhaps the other boy’s reactions were much more disconcerting. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, stared at the back of his friend’s head, and then turned to Dottie with a huge grin on his face.

“If you don’t rent this movie, I will. We’re definitely watching it tonight, right, Rob?” he said, and the girl began giggling, her face in her hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Steve,” she gritted out through her laughter.

“Really, man, you’re a dumbass if you miss some boobs because you don’t wanna watch a musical with friends.”

“You’re gonna like it, G, I swear. It was made for the freaks,” Dottie insisted, sharing a grateful smile with the boy who was now known as Steve.

“Ugh, okay, fine! But if you’re picking a dumb musical, I can pick whatever I want and you can’t say no because you’re scared.”

“Those were the rules, we don’t complain about each other’s picks.”

“Not even if I pick The Exorcist?”

“Well… No, it’s- it’s okay. You can pick whatever you want,” she said, but looked very daunted by the idea.

“You sure?”

“She said yes, man,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips like a suburban dad. “Are you gonna rent these two or do you want one more? You can rent up to three every time.”

“Two’s okay, thank you, Steve,” Dottie said, grabbing The Exorcist off the shelf and taking both VHS cases to the counter.

The four of them moved to the main area and Steve busied himself checking them out, asking Gareth for his information to enter into the computer. Dottie was distracted while she looked at the small selection of candy they offered, the tall girl following her movement with her eyes. She knew she’d seen her before, probably at school but who was she? She mentioned she lived in New York…

“You’re Dorothy, right?” she said suddenly.

“How did you know?”

“People used to talk about you a lot back in January. Then you kinda dropped off everyone’s radar.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Kinda joined the outcasts so…”

“I’m in band, I get it.”

“What do you play?”

“Trumpet. Been playing for twelve years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dottie said, thinking that she hadn’t done anything in her life with that kind of consistency. “It’s really nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Wha- oh. Oh! My tag!” Robin laughed at herself, looking down at the pins on her vest. “You know, I heard there’s a place in Indy where they do Rocky Horror showings once a month if you ever want to go. I don’t drive b-but I bet Steve can take us.”

“That sounds great, yeah! Is he cool with, y’know, nudity and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely! He doesn’t mind. He’s cool. Yeah, Steve’s… really cool.”

“Aw, you actually love me,” Steve said, giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, and Robin hit him with a magazine.

“You two are really cute,” Dottie said, smiling at them. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not-”

“Ew, that’s not-”

“We’re friends,” said Steve.

“Best friends,” added Robin.

“Strictly platonic.”

“With a capital P.”

“Oh. Well, I guess retail bonds you forever,” Dottie laughed, and Steve chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said, looking over at Robin with a knowing expression.

“Okay, can you stop flirting with King Steve now? You’re grossing me out,” Gareth deadpanned, making Dottie frown.

“I’m not- I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s cool. We’re all friends here,” Steve said. “Enjoy your movie night!”

“Thank you, bye! Bye, Robin,” she waved at the girl, who waved back before Dottie grabbed Gareth’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Gareth said, when she shoved him outside, Donny holding the door open for them.

“Don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it,” he said, letting the door close behind them, muffling their voices from inside the store.

Steve and Robin watched them get into Donny’s car and pull out behind a beat up brown Chevy van, both vehicles disappearing down the road together. When the tail lights were no longer able to be seen, they turned to each other with curious expressions.

“Was she-” Robin asked.

“I think she was, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What did I tell you?” Steve said, going back to where he had been restocking before all the commotion. “Boobies.”

“Stop saying boobies!”

When Dottie asked to sit next to him to watch The Exorcist, Eddie imagined a scenario where she’d be a little bit scared and seek him out for comfort. After all, cuddling on a couch wasn’t something they’d never done before, blurring the line between friendly touches and something more every day that went by. She suggested eating first, putting the movie in later, and no one complained about the request, eager to stuff their faces after a long day of school and extracurriculars on top. Jeff’s basement was a cozy hangout spot with a door that led to a side entrance, perfect for sneaking out for a smoke between his mother’s carefully manicured rose bushes. The tan carpet and wooden walls were welcoming, if not slightly tacky, and the space had been filled in with a big couch and two armchairs, a huge TV where Jeff’s dad liked to watch football, and a great sound system that had probably been top-of-the-line ten years prior. They gotten their fill of cheese and soda, Whitesnake and Black Sabbath playing in the background, and then retreated to their seats for the movie: Eddie, Dottie, and Jeff on the couch, Donny to Jeff’s left as far away from the TV as he could sit, and Gareth on the remaining Lay-Z-Boy to Eddie’s right, bowl of popcorn for himself on his lap.

As soon as the movie started, it was clear Eddie’s expectations had been sorely mistaken. Dottie started stiff as a board between the two boys, slowly sinking into the couch as the minutes ticked, head hidden behind her knees. Jeff had a bit of success in getting her to relax when he attempted to tell her every time it was safe to look up, but after a miscalculation of the length of a scene involving various medical procedures, her eyes never went beyond the coffee table again. Gareth and Donny’s constant commentary helped ease the uncomfortable air in the room, but it was clear to Eddie that Dottie was not enjoying this situation one bit. Forgoing any ideas of romance, he pulled her into his side, letting her bury her head into his shirt as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the TV while Regan thrashed on a hospital bed calling for her mother.

Donny looked at Eddie pointedly during a quiet moment, but he pretended not to see it, choosing instead to rub big circles on Dottie’s back in an attempt to calm down her heart rate, beating wildly against the side of his chest like it was trying to get out of her body. Progressively through the 122 minutes that the movie lasted, she pressed more and more of herself against Eddie trying to shield herself from the horrors on the screen, and truthfully, if he hadn’t been so distracted trying to comfort her, he would have been terrified too. By the time Regan was gilding down the stairs on all fours, Jeff was covering half his face with a decorative pillow. When she began hurting herself with a crucifix, even Donny who had been somewhat unaffected until that moment let out a perturbed “Jesus Christ”. By the time the actual exorcism had began, Donny looked like he desperately needed a cig, Jeff was threatening to throw up if Regan threw up again, and Dottie was shaking so much that Eddie straight up manhandled her into his lap like a child and covered the ear that wasn’t pressed up against his chest with his own hand. Credits rolled, and Gareth was the only one that moved out of his chair to stretch and turn on the lights, face pallid when he saw the angry faces of his friends.

“Uh…”

“Are you fucking serious, Gareth?” Donny said in disbelief, knees cracking with the sudden movement of standing up after two hours. “That shit was so fucked up!”

“Please don’t fight,” Jeff said tiredly, letting his pillow drop to the floor.

“Oh, I’m fighting,” Donny doubled down. “Look at Dot! You know she hates horror movies and you get this one? Couldn’t you get fucking Gremlins instead?”

“It’s not that scary, it’s so obvious everything’s totally fake! You can see the tube stuck to her head when she throws up!”

“That was so fucking gross,” Jeff added, still looking a little green himself.

“It’s okay-” Dottie began, wiping under her eyes with the sleeve of her red cardigan, but Donny interrupted her again.

“This is what you were giving her shit for in the video store?”

“Okay, shit- I get it. I fucked up,” Gareth lifted his hands. “I honestly didn’t think it was that scary the first time I saw it.”

“Man, you need to see a shrink if that shit didn’t scare you,” Eddie said, no longer all cozied up to Dottie, but still keeping one arm around her for support.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth looked at Dot, who was the most affected out of his friends. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like ass for two hours. I thought we’d have fun with it.”

“You’re mean, and I hate you, but it’s okay,” she said, grumpily pouting but lifting her arms to ask him for a hug which he immediately gave her. “Just don’t do it again. And you have to go with me to the bathroom now because I’m gonna pee myself and I don’t wanna be in there alone.”

“I’ll hold your hand while you pee, you big wuss.”

Gareth and Dottie climbed up the stairs, him cracking the stupidest jokes to get her to relax while Jeff busied himself going to grab the ice cream so everyone could cool down before the second movie. Donny got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and nodded at Eddie to follow him outside. They pressed their backs to the cold brick, the lights spilling out from the glass panel on the door illuminating their faces with warm yellow tones. They smoked for a few minutes in silence, looking out onto the fenced-in backyard.

“That shit was wild,” Donny said. "Can't believe they made a twelve-year-old pretend to stab her own pussy with a fucking cross."

"You think that actress was really 12?" Eddie mused.

"Well, she looked like it."

"Yeah, but... maybe she was like 16 and just looks really small? Dunno, but that was crazy. Was she really telling that priest to fuck that other priest?"

"Yeah," Donny chuckled, throwing a bit of ash to the ground. "Saw you, by the way."

"Saw me?"

"You two. Dottie sitting on your lap."

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie scoffed.

"I'm not saying anything weird was happening. Just that I saw you."

"She was terrified, man. Never seen her shake like that, and I've seen her scared before," the eldest said, bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm telling you, I could feel her fucking heartbeat and that shit didn’t feel healthy. She's gonna sleep with her lights on for a week."

"Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad or I would have said something. Honestly thought she was playing it up a little bit, getting cozy with you."

"Nah, she's not like that."

"How do you know?" Eddie shrugged, and Donny narrowed his eyes. "What's been going with you two lately? You're like, attached at the hip."

Eddie took his time to answer, letting the smoke in his lungs leave his body slowly, savoring the peace and quiet of the Friday night. Donny had been his first friend in the group, and if anyone deserved honesty after showing him so much loyalty, it was him. Maybe he'd have valuable insight to share with him in return.

"I'm whipped, Don. That's what's going on," Eddie said.

"Tell me something I don't know, dude."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes. I don't think the others have noticed yet."

"Yeah, well, it's bad. Like really, really bad. Like I'm one more pout away from dropping on one knee and asking her to be the new Mrs. Munson bad."

"Jesus."

"Yup."

"So it's not just a crush? Are you, like, seriously in love with her?"

"I'm gonna go to prom and wear a tie for her. Take a wild fucking guess."

Donny stared at Eddie for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. The long haired boy lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I don't deserve her."

"Ed-"

"I just don't want to drag her down, y'know? She has all these plans, she’s gonna go to college, do cool stuff. I want to ask her when I have something real to offer. After graduation, once I get a job."

"Eddie, has it ever occurred to you that she really fucking likes you right now? You know, without all that extra shit?"

"I know she does."

"You do?" Donny looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'm stupid, not blind. Dunno when she started to like me but yeah, I know she does."

"When did you figure it out?"

"We spent Mother's Day together."

"Oh."

"That's when I realized, damn, she must really like me to spend such a big day like this with me. And then her Dad gave me a manly talk so I just kinda put two and two together."

"Does she know you know?"

"I don't know if she even knows herself. She was telling me the other day that it's stupid boys and girls can't be friends without people reading too much into it. Maybe she’s in denial. I was.

“You were?”

“For like two days, yeah,” Eddie admitted.

"I'll ask Gareth about it. I bet he knows."

"You think?"

"They act like siblings all the time, if someone knows, it's him," Donny assured him, putting his cig out against the brick wall. "Hurry up though, she might get tired of waiting."

"Just a couple more weeks. Until I know if I graduate or not. It's the bare fucking minimum but she deserves it."

"Alright. I'm rooting for you, man. Go make me proud."

"Thanks, dude."

They returned to the basement after their smoke break, Donny giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder when they saw Dottie and Jeff back on the couch, heads together over a big tub of vanilla ice cream. Gareth was sitting on the floor in front of them scooping chocolate into a bowl that already had strawberry and vanilla in it. She was explaining the basics of the movie they were about to watch, warning them that things weren’t what they seemed and that it was about to get weird. Jeff looked terribly excited about the prospect of some lighthearted fun, and whatever talk Gareth and Dottie had had while they were in the bathroom (he’d apologized again while he stood in a corner, back to her and his eyes closed for good measure while she peed) had left him equally curious. The boy heard the words “boobs” and “murder” and decided he was all in for the experience.

Once everyone was back in their seats and had a cold treat in their hands to enjoy during the movie, lights went off and bright red lips filled the screen. Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still, but he told us… where we stand, Dottie mouthed following the lyrics, spoon resting on her lower lip. It was a complete 180 from the previous feature, her eyes now glued to the moving images, only rousing from her hypnosis to fill her spoon with more ice cream when Jeff prompted her to do so. She encouraged the boys to participate, instructing them to say “Janet” or “Oh, Brad” in a bored tone along with Riff Raff and Magenta during Dammit Janet or teaching them the steps to The Time Warp. Donny and Jeff, ever the performers, immediately jumped to action when Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul began, and Eddie twirled Dottie around proving himself to be quite the capable dancer when he put effort into it. Even Gareth got into the festivities when the pickaxe came out.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Jeff said while the credits were still rolling. “Didn’t know musicals could be, y’know, not Grease.”

“Take that back, Grease is legit,” Donny threatened him with his spoon.

“Less boobs than I was promised but still pretty good,” laughed Gareth, and Dottie chucked a pillow at his head.

“Looks like movie night is a success all thanks to Dot,” Eddie said, grinning at the girl that couldn’t sing for shit, but still knew all the lyrics to every beat of the musical. “Gareth, you’re banned from picking movies for a month.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged.

“Are there more musicals like this?” Jeff asked, and Eddie could see Dottie’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Well, there’s one about a demon barber…”

Eddie’s 20th birthday had been nothing like he was used to, but as he sat in Jeff’s brown-looking basement, his crush resting her weight against his shoulder as she animatedly explained to their friends the plot of Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet… Street, his spoon full of strawberry ice cream, and a pre-rolled joint in his backpack they were definitely going to sneakily smoke in the back of his van at some point during the night, he felt truly lucky for the first time in years. Everything was going to change for them in a few weeks, but Eddie really hoped that his 21st birthday would be as happy, if not more, as his 20th had been.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

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koraesrambles · 1 year ago

Text

Thoughts on the conclusion of Gotham War

Alright, so I've made it absolutely no secret that I've been enjoying the crap out of Gotham War. Is it structurally sound with good pacing and clear stakes? HELL no. It's not an air tight story, there are so many holes in all of the characters logic, but it is also an extremely good time.

I don't mind loose storylines in comics like this. Mostly because the premise "full grown man dresses up as a bat and cannot stop himself from mass adopting every orphan that looks like him" is already so ridiculous that anything they posit as a solution in their "war on crime" I think, "Yeah, I can see that." None of the rules of this world make sense.

But I don't really read most things for their air tight plot. Slight detour (There's a point, I swear!), but some perfect examples of this are Puss in Boots and the Last Wish and The Super Mario Bro movie. The last wish is PHENOMENAL. A literal work of art. I've seen it so many times and just basked in it's beauty. Love everything about it, absolutely stellar. But do you know what movie made me look up fan content, read fics, and forced me to buy the digital copy of the movie before the DVD came out? Yep. Mario Bros.

Why? Because I like stories about brothers who love each other and the mario movie gave me exactly that. It's not an air tight, phenomonal story with gorgeous real world applications, but it gave me a fun time where two characters worried about each other incessantly and honestly? that is what I'm here for.

So back to Gotham War. If I'm not actually looking for a ground breaking story (which honestly, I know those happen in these big super hero comic books but I feel like they're usually the *exception* rather than the rule) and just want good character interactions, then Gotham War delivered phenomenally. Especially since my favorite character was the one constantly being wrung through the wringer.

It was a great time. I enjoyed reading it, the art is better than anything I could ever produce even when the characters made weird faces. It was great. But did they stick the ending?

Eh, endings are hard. I would love to see more consequences for Bruce. Him just going off at the end and getting away with the horrible things he did to Jason is annoying. I almost wanted Jason to actually die at the end there, just so that Bruce would feel stupid and sad. If Bruce never acknowledges what he did to Jason (which . . . he probably won't, given the track record) then I'll be pretty disappointed. That's some juicy angst right there that should absolutely be addressed.

And I appreciated that literally every character that interacted with Bruce that knew about what he'd done yelled at him for it. Even Dick's seeming about-face at the end with "I'm sure you had your reasons" came after two weeks of getting used to the idea AND him trying to actually get Bruce to make good choices for once. I mean, Bruce doesn't, but A for effort, Dick. Thanks for punching him in the face last time, that was cathartic.

I surprisingly really like the fact that it wasn't Zur who did this to Jason. It was Bruce. Horrible, wacked-out, messed up Bruce Wayne who is so desperate to control everything around him and so terrified of losing the people he loves that he constantly overrides them like they're his freaking pets. Bruce is in a BAD place, and I sure hope that there will be tons of fics exploring that even if canon never acknowledges it.

But that's how I deal with comic universes like this. Everyone jokes that "Canon? what canon!" and we all laugh but honestly . . .yeah. Like, seriously. Canon is whatever works for the writer's plot in the moment. They make stuff up and contradict themselves all the time. They're constantly retconning stuff. It doesn't take away from any of the stories I like, I can still read them. And at this point, legitimately, I approach every single comic I come up on as though it's an AU. There is no canon timeline for me, because it's too messy. DC is literally just an AO3 platform that's allowed to make money.

Because the people who originally created these characters are long gone. These guys (gender neutral) writing and drawing the comics now are just fans like we all are. It's all fake. None of it is real. So let's all just have a good time.

I was talking to some friends about this and they pointed out, "It's difficult because people feel like when they're constantly screwing around with things like that why should they even care about the characters?" And they were absolutely right, that's extremely frustrating to deal with. I put a lot of emotional investment into characters, but every writer is going to approach the characters differently and with a universe like DC has, you just have to roll with it. There are no stakes. We all complain about it, but nothing is done to change it because we love these characters and we'll keep coming back for more, and so they keep having to make more content and that means messing with stuff they already have. It's a never ending cycle. These are living legends, mythology that's being written out in real time. Nothing about them are ever going to be cohesive.

Wow this is getting long, sorry about that. Things I loved about the Gotham War conclusion: Jason almost sacrificing himself and being a hero even though he was terrified. A+ content. Gorgeous, you go my boy! Tim telling everyone how to beat up all the rouges (Good job sweetheart, way to be a morally ambiguous little shit like you always are). Even if he claimed to be the second best robin at the end, those are fighting words my man. I also liked Jason's "Go 'save' another one of your sons." jab. That was great. I liked that everyone told Bruce he was wrong, even if it could have been stronger. The rest of the issue was plot stuff that I didn't really care too much about. I really like Bat/Cat, so I didn't mind those scenes too much even though Bruce is still the worst (affectionate AND derogatory).

I didn't really expect anything spectacular from the conclusion, and it really did end kind of like what I expected (nothing's changed except now Jason gets to deal with the Joker when he's sick with Super Anxiety -- which I actually am really excited for). But it wasn't as much fun as some of the previous issues.

That said, I would not mind owning an omnibus of all the gotham war issues, if just to re-read all of my favorite scenes. There were some truly unhinged crap in there, and that's just my cup of tea.

Story telling quality? eh, 6/10

enjoyment had? 9/10

#batman #batman gotham wars #gotham wars #batman/catwoman scorched earth #bruce wayne #selina kyle #jason todd #catwoman #red hood #DC comics #Comic review #i guess #gotham war spoilers

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taegularities · 1 year ago

Note

I MISS CMI SO BADLY CMI 11 IS A PRAYER CHANT I SAY EVERY NIGHT BEFORE I SLEEP

and for that.. cmi jungkook! If there’s a last thing you want to say to oc (lets say when they’re old and grey), what is it?

"there was a time when you took me here, so i could see the real stars. look how they haven't changed," you say, squinting, fighting the weak eyesight to inhale all of the night sky. "but we have, haven't we?"

"i don't think you'll ever change to me."

maybe he's right. since the twilight of your days, he's remained the same, too. as you sit on your bench on a delicate spring day, you think back to the sunsets you've seen with him so far.

at the beach. over wide fields. through the open window.

you've surely woven a masterpiece of a life together; it used to be far worse. but the two of you have indeed not changed. in fact, you don't even need to be here. the stars in his eyes are still the same, too.

a wrinkly hand reaches out to yours, enveloping your pale skin to lift it to his lips. there's a tenderness in his touch you never quite got used to. the words he uttered always carried the same beauty as stardust, drenched in understanding, affection and gentleness.

like now.

"sometimes i still don't understand," he whispers, "how a mind can be so constant. sometimes i see you eating the same favourite snack you loved so long ago, or talking about the stories to me that you wrote when i first fell for you. how are you so constant?"

"how are you?" you nudge his shoulder; he flashes the smirk you know, though weaker now. a thumb rubs the back of your hand – an old habit, too. "how do sad movies still make you cry?"

"i'm not a monster. and i only cry about movies." pause. "and you."

"me, yes?"

"you. out of sadness, out of joy."

he blinks slowly, his movements matching the pace. he gulps and licks his lips, producing saliva, and then looks into your eyes with a stare you know from years and years ago.

god. was it just yesterday that you fell in love? that you waded through heartbreak, found solace in each other, fought the universe and built a home not in your four walls, but in each other, too.

he still paints the same gorgeous lines on the canvas. still floods you with the same colours; you've left the grey world far, far behind.

"i wish we could stay here a bit longer, angel," he mutters, hiding your hand in both of his. "i want to see more sunrises with you. whatever the hell happens, i hope you're still there in a hundred years, okay? might sound very stupid, but. i'll make sure to find you again."

you're tearing up. you tear up all the time these days.

you understand what he meant when he said you were the salty liquid collecting in his waterline. out of sadness, out of joy. out of comfort.

"tae would be calling you cheesy. in fact, i do, too," you whisper, leaning in until your shoulders and knees touch. "then again, i'll be mad if you don't, kook. find me, i mean."

"munchkin, do i ever lie?" he beams, smile reaching wide. shit, he looks so young again. "thank you. for the life you gave, and keep giving me while i'm alive. just… one more thing, okay?"

you already know. so you guess, "you want me to stay with you?"

the nod is gentle. the sparkles in his pupils similar to the ones above. a lifetime echoes in them when he confirms–

"stay."

a/n: ah lol, i'm actually crying? this took a while bc i kept sobbing wtf :') not the last thing he says to her, but one of the last for sure <3 i miss them so much too… doing my absolute best with the next part, love <3

#also my god.. i gave you a sweet but harmless scenario bc there's one roaming around on dc that's.. gut-wrenching #but i didn't want to hurt anyone too bad </3 #notes for rid 🌹#anon #fic: colour me in #*amc #*amc: cmi

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angstyaches · 2 years ago

Note

that was SO cute, elliot and felix abducting shayne for gossip is TOP tier lmaooo i love them so much

ooh also, if you’re taking requests for full fics, we haven’t had a sick felix in so long!

how about felix absolutely flattened by a stomach flu and a very Very sweet and gentle Elliot? ooh and bonus for shayne, nancy and ryan randomly dropping in to take care of him too! (now i know it’s technically impossible for him to be THIS out of commission because of his vamp immunity but let’s pretend? or maybe he can be sick because of something else?)🍄

Sleepy Prompts (1: "Come on, love. It's time to get up." 9: "You're always so beautiful first thing in the morning. Must be the way the sunlight hits you.")

CW: sickness, mentions of poor mental health, anxiety, Alzheimer's mention, emeto, stomach noises, sickness, mention of poor immune system.

Word Count: 3,000ish

___

Not that he ever gave it much thought, but if he could have chosen a supernatural ability, Felix would have chosen the power to wake up beautifully. Maybe then he wouldn’t have greeted the gentle kiss that Elliott pressed to his sleeping lips with a snort and a groan and an immediate, abrasive throbbing in his head.

Oh, if only he could have rolled over, leaning his cheek into the palm that Elliott used to cup his face, and break into a slow smile as his eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion yet eager to feast on that day’s first glimpse of Elliott’s face. How lovely if mornings could be as glamorous as they were in movies, when the main character finally woke up in the bed of the right person, having made the right decision to stay with them.

But Felix rarely woke up with beauty, or grace, or romance.

And today was no different.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Elliott cooed. Through the slitted gaps in his eyelids, Felix saw that the curtains had been opened a crack, and soft yellow light danced about the outline of Elliott’s long, sweeping hair. “Time to wake up.”

“No-o-o.” Sickly, watery saliva was gathering in Felix’s cheeks, and the effort of swallowing it was almost too overwhelming to even attempt.

“Aw, boo, you’re sweating. Let’s get you out of these covers.” Elliott slipped into using a frustratingly clinical tone as he rolled back the blanket and folded it along the bare, inward curve at the base of Felix’s spine. The initial trickle of cool morning air was a bit of a relief, if Felix was being honest.

He felt Elliott’s hand slide back up towards Felix’s neck, fingertips scooping up strands of hair from his clammy neck. He swept it all up onto the pillow, as though he were posing Felix to look like he was underwater, hair drifting out behind him.

Felix’s brows gathered as his bones began to throb in time with the pain in his head, already missing the warmth and weight of the blanket.

“How much sleep did you get, boo?” Elliott asked.

“Gosh, I don’t remember, darling,” Felix mumbled, gulping as he realised that the spit pooling in his mouth was also seeping through his lips and onto his pillow. “I was… asleep.”

“Mmm, very funny,” Elliott hummed, though Felix wasn’t sure he’d been trying to be funny.

Regardless, he wrestled one half of his face – the part that Elliott could see, that wasn’t buried in the pillow – into a weary excuse for a smile. As much as he despised mornings, he also despised dampening his partner’s mood.

“I know you’re not going to the nursing home until later this afternoon, and… it’s a beautiful morning outside.”

There was a wistful note in Elliott’s voice now, and Felix could already tell where he was going with this. His voice was like a warm blanket that made Felix want to wrap it all around him, but his words were like a draught creeping through the knitted surface.

“I thought we could take a nice, relaxed walk by the river and end up at the bakery that makes those scones you like.” Elliott’s fingers brushed against Felix’s temple. “We could have a little picnic breakfast. Er, I mean, you can. I’ll be there to… observe. And to scare off seagulls.”

As sweet as the whole plan was, and as much as Felix enjoyed the image of Elliott scowling at brazen birds who wanted to steal the food right out of Felix’s hands, Felix’s stomach and throat clenched at the thought of eating.

Oh, but then again, something dry and fluffy like a scone might have helped to soak up the bubbling goo that was currently nipping at the base of his oesophagus. His throat and his lower organs both tingled with dread, neither one of them wanting to be the one to deal with whatever was brewing in his stomach.

“What do you think?” There was no impatience, no rush, in Elliott’s voice this morning. There was just sheer curiosity, a simmering desperation to understand what was going through Felix’s head that he wasn’t telling him.

I don’t deserve him.

“I don’t… feel good, Elli.” A twinge of guilt mingled with Felix’s nausea. In the rational part of his brain, he knew it wasn’t his fault that he’d ended up so sickly, so weak as a vampire. He knew it wasn’t his fault that Elliott held onto the guilt of instigating his abnormal transformation. And yet, he couldn’t help picturing how different Elliott’s life might have been if his partner had been as strong, as adventurous, as energetic as he himself was.

“Mmm. I know, boo,” Elliott frowned.

Relief fluttered in Felix’s chest, but only for a split second.

Elliott bent forward, smoothing a portion of Felix’s hair flat against his scalp before pressing a kiss – then a second one, for good measure – to the same spot. “We don’t have to go to the bakery, or out for a walk. All I want is to cheer you up somehow, or just… show you some of the light that’s waiting for you on the other side of this.”

Felix shut his eyes, shivering under the pressure of Elliott’s fingers massaging over the back of his head and along his neck. He wished it were a soothing touch, not one that intended to rouse him from bed.

“But… you know something?” Elliott said with a boyish twist to his lip. “You're always so beautiful first thing in the morning. Must be the way the sunlight hits you. It’d be a damn shame to hide that beauty from the world.”

Gosh damn this boy who always knows how to make me blush.

Felix sighed in resignation and pushed himself upwards. The world tilted on its axis as he reached a seated position. His hair dropped to his shoulders, sticking once again to the cool layer of sweat on the back of his neck.

“See? You’re halfway there.” Elliott gave an irritatingly handsome smile as he slid from the bed.

Swaying with the spinning in his head and the roiling of his stomach, Felix turned onto his hands and knees. “M-my belly feels funny.”

“Well, it usually does, unfortunately,” Elliott said, “after you’ve had a rough night. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, because your brain is adamant on convincing you otherwise, but you always feel better with some sunshine on your skin and some food in your stomach. Always. I’ve seen you transform right before my eyes, boo, after just a tiny bit of effort.”

Felix groaned, his eyes stinging with frustration because he wasn’t sad.

He had been sad; beneath everything else, his throat was scratchy, and his eyes felt like they’d been scraped dry from how frequently and hard he’d cried the previous day. But right now, the only thing making him sad was the fact that his stomach was rebelling against him, and his head felt like it’d been hollowed out and stuffed with bees.

Maybe Elliott was right. Maybe it was all just the aftermath of crying and feeling too much. An emotional hangover of sorts.

“I’ll get the shower going for you, shall I?” Elliott sauntered into the ensuite, as though he hadn’t bothered framing his intentions as a question at all.

“Okay,” Felix croaked. Gosh damn that man and his confidence. Elliott could sell fake fangs to a vampire at Halloween, Felix swore.

But he couldn’t deny that the clamminess of his skin was contributing to how bad he felt, so a shower couldn’t hurt. He held himself, hands clamped on opposite shoulders, as he wriggled out of bed and onto his feet. The light that streamed through the window cast weak pulses of warmth through his skin where it touched him, which only made the chill in the rest of his body all the more miserable.

As he attempted to steady himself in the centre of the bedroom, Felix felt his stomach give a low, squelching sound, and his diaphragm twitched tightly, painfully. He moved his shivering hands down from his shoulders and held his belly. He really had been out of it yesterday, and as a result had eaten very little – certainly too little for his stomach to feel so bloated, pushing against the elastic in his shorts.

Now that he was standing, and his body was adjusting to the effects of gravity on a vertical human body, it felt like the unsettling sludge in his belly was congealing, gathering mass by the second.

Oh, gosh. How had he been able to – even momentarily – convince himself that he was just psychologically drained?

He could barely hear the hiss of the shower starting over the piercing sounds that swarmed in his eardrums, but it guided him as he began to shuffle his unsteady feet in the direction of the bathroom.

Next thing he knew, his knees were smarting something awful, his throat felt like it was being wrung like a wet cloth, and his nose was full of the scent of toilet bleach. This new state of being lasted for about… two seconds, before the nausea that was coiled in his stomach promptly uncoiled, and a torrent of foul liquid spilled from between his quivering lips.

“Felix!”

Felix flinched. For Elliott to call him by his proper name, he must have given him quite a shock. Elliott clamped his hands around Felix’s waist, as though he thought he might pitch forward and disappear into the depths of the sewage system forever, along with the lining of his stomach.

The shower was still hissing, slowly filling the room with steam that felt even worse on Felix’s skin than his own swear. Felix choked on a sob before heaving again. Such a waste of water. But if he had the mental stability to worry about the environment, was it at all credible that he was really, truly sick?

“Oh, boo,” Elliott hushed, sliding one hand from Felix’s waist towards the small of his back. “Alright, let’s get the toilet seat up. Give you a fairer chance…”

Felix blinked in sheer confusion, though he couldn’t deny that it was nice to feel himself being scooped towards Elliott’s tree trunk of a body, momentarily letting go of the responsibility of keeping himself upright. He clung to the fabric of Elliott’s shirt out of a desire for comfort rather than necessity. The fabric softener scent of Elliott’s clothes was a giant improvement on inhaling toilet bleach.

“There we go,” Elliott murmured, wiping toilet paper across the toilet seat, which Felix had evidently managed to swear with acidic yellow vomit. “Man, you’re really not well, are you, boo?”

Felix shook his head. He lifted a hand to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, and remembered he didn’t have any sleeves. All he could do was blearily try not to get anything on Elliott’s lovely, clean-smelling shirt. Although he’d probably already tainted it with his clammy, half-naked body…

“I can still help you into the shower, if you’d like?”

Felix nodded, which he reckoned was the right call, since the sheer act of nodding made him aware of the sticky portions of hair that were stuck to his neck. Whether they were stuck with sweat or something more viscous –

His stomach roiled again, and he scrambled out of Elliott’s light embrace and belched deeply over the toilet bowl. The bleary sight of everything he’d already heaved up made him gag again, this time digging up a thick, sticky string of vomit.

“’N a minute,” Felix murmured, spitting and blowing through his lips while bile and saliva stuck to them.

“Take your time, gorgeous,” Elliott whispered. “Take your time.”

___

“Felix, I will now take your temperature.”

“Mmrrbbuh?” Felix pushed through the cotton-like fog of sleep, almost batting away the plastic cone that was being directed inside his ear. His hand brushed against cold, almost too smooth skin that made his heart feel warm. He curled both hands around the wrist joined to the hand that was holding the electronic thermometer, and hummed in both pain and contentment. The hand of his saviour. His protector. His guardian.

“Well,” Ryan murmured, “it’s certainly been a while since you’ve shown me this much affection…”

Eyes fluttering open, Felix felt a flush in his face, beyond even that brought on by the fever. Ryan’s gaze was piercing as she looked down at him, as though he were a scribbled-upon piece of paper, or some unidentified lizard she’d happened upon.

He groggily let go of her arm. She remained like a statue towering above him, clad in all-white as though carved from marble, until the thermometer bleeped for her to remove it. Her heavy-lidded expression didn’t shift at all as she took the reading.

“Standard norovirus, by all appearances,” she said, “largely due to Felix’s diminished immune system. Undoubtedly a consequence of having been turned by an inferior member of the strain.”

“Love it when you rub that in my face,” Elliott’s voice came mumbling from somewhere beyond Ryan’s shoulders. Felix shifted his head for a better look – a better squint, more like – and saw that his partner was standing with his arms folded, mouth turned down in a subtle sulk.

“I am merely making observations.” Ryan paused, folding her slender arms. “However, if my assessment of Felix’s condition also happens to reiterate and reinforce a crucial point, then perhaps its function can be twofold.”

___

“Seriously, man, do not come in here,” Elliott droned, spinning his desk chair around and looking as though he was about to send himself rolling across the room to tackle Shayne in the doorway. “This thing Felix has is contagious for humans, and I cannot deal with it if both of you are vomiting your guts up.”

“Alright, whatever.” Shayne held up his palms, half-turning to leave already. “Just wanted to tell you guys that I went to see Trish, and she’s… I don’t know, she’s fine. She’s doing fine.”

“Hear that?” Elliott said softly, squeezing Felix’s thigh.

Felix smiled, a shiver of relief undoing some of the knots in his back and legs. He swallowed over the urge to ask Shayne if his mother had inquired about him, but with the day he was having, he thought it’d be better to spare himself the disappointment. If there was any fantastic news to share – they found an instantaneous cure for Alzheimer’s today, and your mother has been selected for the first round of treatment! – surely Shayne would already have shared it.

The main thing was that she hadn’t been left lonely for the day just because Felix’s belly was too upset to make the journey.

“I-I… really appreciate that, Shayne,” Felix said. “Thank you.”

Shayne blinked and seemed to be somewhat infuriated at being thanked. He hesitated as he turned to leave, pausing to shrug and glance back at the floor. “Yeah, well, I’m glad you appreciate it, Fee, because those buses are the fucking worst. Honestly.”

Felix’s stomach burbled uneasily at the thought of the motion, and the heat, and the smell of human beings packed into an enclosed space.

“Oh. Feel better, or whatever.”

“Thanks, bud.”

___

“Elli?”

Elliott blinked away as soon as he heard his name. He sat up as quickly as he could without jostling the bed too much.

A little of the colour had returned to Felix’s face, but not much. He was supine in the bed next to Elliott, eyes open and brighter than they’d been in days.

“Yes, my boo?” Elliott whispered, reaching over to smooth a hand over Felix’s hair out of pure habit. “Are you alright?”

The corners of Felix’s lips twitched upwards at the touch. “I don’t feel entirely well, but… I was wondering if you might do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

Felix’s hands – mere bulges in the duvet from Elliott’s point of view – moved lightly over his own belly. With his attention drawn towards it, Elliott became sharply aware of a low, consistent burbling sound coming from it. Shit. Was Felix nauseous again? Was he going to ask for stomach rubs, or a bin to vomit into, or some medicine –?

“As soon as it’s past the opening time,” Felix said softly, “could you go to that bakery and get me those scones I like?”

Elliott raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Listening again, he realised that the noises coming from Felix’s body must have been the painfully empty hunger growls of a stomach that hadn’t eaten in almost two days, due to a combination of stress and sickness. Elliott’s own lack of a human appetite had stopped him from anticipating this.

“Of course I will.” He glanced over his shoulder, searching for the streaks of light through the curtains that would give him a sense of the time. “It might be a while. Are you sure I can’t bring you something from the kitchen?”

A somewhat guilty grimace split Felix’s face as he shook his head. “Those scones are all I can think about.”

“In that case, try to get a little more rest, gorgeous,” Elliott smiled, draping himself close to Felix’s swaddled-up form. He rested a hand over Felix’s belly, surprising himself as usual with how small Felix’s torso always seemed when he touched it, even with the added bulk of the duvet between them.

“Thank you, darling,” Felix murmured, eyes fluttering shut, already beginning to drift off again.

#sickfic #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #emetophilia #vampire emeto #vampire sickfic #vampire whump #emeto whump #StW Felix #vampire OC

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