#i was saying i wanted breadsticks and i need water

[fanciestghost]

I love the sillies (ignore their nicknames)

#fwends #vebjrpgrg #my stomach kinda hurts #but at least im wearing my barbie shirt #ouija board ghost #i was saying i wanted breadsticks and i need water #btw

[polarisjisung]

cherry flavoured

12— ME AND MY GIRLIES

SYNOPSIS: y/n, the campuses notorious heartbreaker, had never been one to settle down, running from the word commitment since the concept had first been introduced to her, but one smile and a little cherry coke seems to do just the trick when she runs into captain of the dance team, park jisung

PAIRING: dancer!jisung x fem!reader

WARNINGS: swearing, manipulation

NOTES: I feel like this chapter is sorta difficult to format in terms of the story stuff and the written parts so it's kinda confusing 💀

girls' night meant games, laughing until your stomach hurt, smiling until your cheeks began to ache, drinking to the silliest of promises, celebrating all things good, blocking out the bad

no thanks to the whole ordeal of a locker littered with notes, and being completely overwhelmed with such hurtful words, y/n had found it specifically difficult to move on from her conversation with the choi as if his every statement rung loud in her ears

each glimpse she'd catch of herself in the mirror causing her to gulp harshly, the glares she'd received at school making her feel small in a way she never had before, even after reaching her apartment, like there were eyes on her everywhere she went

but despite her initial rigidity, y/n had taken the night head on, ratatouille playing somewhere in the background as the girls began to form the dough needed for their chosen baked goods, milk chocolate chip cookies, with extra chocolate chips of course

"1 cup of butter" yunjin had yelled from somewhere across the kitchen, throwing the two sticks of butter at yuqi who failed to catch them, one hitting her in the eye, the other y/n's arm

the two girls laughed it off, but not before offering a sharp glare towards the ginger who only sheepishly smiled back, half apologetic as they haphazardly attempted to bake

"so y/n, spill" the smirk on yeonhee's face was enough for the redhead to know what she's referring to, regardless she asked

"spill what?"

"tell us about mystery man, I can't live with those faceless instagram stories of yours" yuqi whined, sitting up on the countertop as she bit into a breadstick, crossing her legs

"I don't know what you want me to say" she gave an honest answer, not knowing where to begin with the boy she found herself thinking of time and time again, "he's sweet" she says

"sweet? that's it?" yunjin huffed disappointedly "well we knew that, he sent you flowers and cupcakes for gods sake, and they were in your favourite colour, tell us something we don't know" she lifted her palm to her face, half frustrated as she laughed at the new side of her friend.

but y/n could't find a starting point, each time a random thought of the once blue haired boy popped into her mind the trajectory of what she'd intended to say would change, a smile beginning to form over her lips, unbeknowst to her

"we all know this is just a long talking phase" yeri walked across the room to the fridge, grabbing a glass of water "y/n will find someone new in no time"

the girl in question chose to ignore the comment with a roll of her eyes before continuing, reaching over to mix the batter seeing as yeonhee had grown tired of doing it

"I don't know, he just, he confuses me" the hesitation was clear in her words, the foreign feeling something she was still struggling to understand, "like he makes me feel comfortable and he makes my breath catch in my throat all at once"

they nodded, urging her to continue

"I think I like him" she sighed, unsure of herself, not knowing what it meant to like anyone at all, "I kind of want to ask him out on a date" she half whispered, worried at the possibility of rejection— her last attempt of a date having never felt extravagant enough for her thanks to the project they'd been working on

her statement was followed by instant hums of support and a shrill whistle from yuqi, though yeri has only scoffed at the sight

"y/n chasing a man? how odd" the sarcastic tone hadn't gone unnoticed by the girls again, nothing said in response under the assumption that the oldest simply had the habit of speaking this way, but for some reason, tonight y/n had felt a certain edge to her words through the blunt delivery and plain careless expression she wore

the redhead shrugged it off again, pouring in a bag full of chocolate chips as yunjin took over the stirring, popping a couple into her mouth

"I don't see why you shouldn't ask him" yuqi began, "you'll never get anywhere just thinking it, and from what I can tell, there's no reason he'll say no"

yuqi, like always spoke honestly, offering advice despite her usual carefree nature— one of the signs that reminded her friends just how much she truly cared for them

though, the inch of confidence that y/n had gained from her words seems to be cut down in an instant. yeris voice loud from across the kitchen

"I mean, if I was you, I'd reconsider. You've known him for all of what? 5 weeks— you move on quick y/n. Are you sure this is the right time?"

the doorbell rung before anyone could respond, or even fully process her words, the girls rushing towards the door, knowing the pizza they had long awaited had finally arrived.

y/n felt the way yeri let's her eyes trace up and down over her, scoffing loudly again with a disgusted snarl on her lips— she felt small, insignificant.

"dating has never been your strong suit, I don't know why you're trying now" and with that the older had walked out to the living room, taking a seat on the couch where the rest of the girls had opened up the red cardboard boxes and set then on the table, but y/n found herself frozen, stuck in place as she inhaled a deep breath

thought it came out shaky, the first few times she finally settled into a half steady pattern of breathing, a hand resting on her chest, heartbeat erratic

"y/n come, the food will get cold" yeonhee shouted, tapping the seat next to her, and the girl followed, yet again, forgetting the words her friend had uttered, or at least trying to

thought it had intially seemed easy to let go of, the girl found herself pondering over the words late into the night, when everyone had comfortably made their way under the covers and curled up tight, y/n rested one arm on the ledge of their apartment balcony, looking over the city

maybe she wasn't cut out for dating, to like somebody.

if she couldn't tell what it was, that knocking feeling in her chest at every sight of the boy, the mere thought of him, surely she didn't actually like him, liking someone wouldn't leave her confused. if she really liked him, she would have known, perhaps this was all a silly little crush that would die down later, just like yeri had said.

After all, yeri had had her own fair share of relationships, yeri had a first love, and y/n knew those were experiences she hadn't yet learnt from, believing yeri suddenly made all the more sense.

she sighs, watching the cloud of breath condense in front of her, the quiet sound of a busy city below bringing her to reality, soft footsteps becoming increasingly louder behind her

"you know, I meant what I said earlier" yeri leans up against the boundary of the balcony next to the girl, "as a friend, I care about you y/n and I just don't think you should do this"

y/n listens, hoping to find solace in her friends words, an explanation to her feelings at the very least.

"you're the girl who hooks up with people, drops one guy and moves onto the next, you've practically had every guy in school wrapped around your pinkie at some point or another but you're not the girl who can love anyone, you weren't built that way"

the saliva seems thick as she gulps, her throat dry as a nauseating pulse rose in her chest

"really?" her voice was hoarse, cracking as she found herself sniffling, the cold now getting to her and the thought of how she was perceived by those closest to her nothing short of mortifying

she nodded.

"don't lead him on, you know you're not capable of love" is the last thing yeri said before disappearing past the sliding doors again, and returning to her own bed.

y/n sighs, maybe she was right.

tying her hair back and slipping out the door with the orange ball in hand, the girl turns back to face her friends, sprawled out across the floor half asleep, feeling suffocated by the thought of whether they all saw her the same way jiung did, jeno did, yeri did, the way she was beginning to see herself.

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#nct smau #nct x female reader #nct x y/n #nct x oc #nct x you #nct x reader #nct jisung #nct dream smau #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x oc #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct dream jisung #nct jisung x reader #park jisung x you #jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #jisung x you #jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung #park jisung au #park jisung texts #nct dream texts #nct texts #nct imagine #jisung #jisung park au #cherry flavoured 🍒

[vodika-vibes]

Just read some of your Bly stuff. Ahhhh love Bly.

So I have a request, you and Bly are best friends, and he thinks he likes General Secura, so he asks you for advice and you offer what you can despite the fact it kills you. He even goes on a date with the General and he realizes she's not who he wants. They both realize it's not what they want. All Bly wants is you.

You Make Me Happy, When Skies Are Grey

Summary: When Bly comes to you for advice on asking General Secura out on a date, you’re happy to help, even though every word rips your heart to shreds. You want him happy, even if that happiness isn’t with you.

Pairing: Commander Bly x F!Reader

Word Count: 1513

Warnings: Reader is heartbroken at the beginning

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry this too so long! I hope you like it! Also, I now have a super sad post-Order 66 continuation based off of this because I just had to name the story this.

You sit in your apartment, in the dark, your eyes locked on the ceiling. You trace the stars on the ceiling, while you try your hardest to ignore the burning in your eyes and the lump in your throat.

Three weeks ago, Bly came to you for advice on asking General Secura out on a date. 

Though it broke your heart, you still helped him. 

You planned the perfect first date for him and General Secura. From dinner to dancing to wrapping up at a local cafe that had a good first date ambiance. You even helped him out by buying him nice clothes for the event and giving him tips on good conversation starters that don’t revolve around the war.

You even gave him advice on the best way to ask her out, warned him about putting her on the spot and making her feel pressured to say yes.

And every word, every plan, added another crack to your fragile heart.

But, more than anything, you want him to be happy. And if his happiness comes at the expense of your own…well, so be it.

After all, Bly deserves someone as amazing as he is. Someone as gorgeous as he is. Bly and General Secura deserve each other, they’ll be great together. 

He deserves better than some IT girl. Especially some IT girl who was too nervous to admit her feelings towards him.

To give yourself some credit, your heart didn’t completely shatter until you got a comm late last night saying that he asked General Secura out on a date and she agreed, and that he was going out with her the following day.

Going out with her now.

You cried yourself to sleep last night. And you spent the whole day in bed today.

You’re allowed to be a little heartbroken. Just so long as you put the happy smile back on your face when Bly inevitably tells you how his date went.

You can be happy for him. You can.

Just…later.

You trace the constellations on your ceiling, and swallow hard to try and force the lump in your throat to go away. Bly helped you hang them when you moved into this apartment. He spent hours here, with you, helping you turn your house into a home.

You hoped…

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?

Annoyed, with the situation and with yourself, you push yourself up into a sitting position, and swing your legs off the bed. You’re going to shower, wash your hair, and then order your favorite pasta from the too expensive restaurant just down the street.

And then you’re going to watch your favorite animated movie from when you were a kid, and you’re going to ignore any comms that you get from Bly tonight, and you’ll be happy for him in the morning.

That decision made, you half-heartedly make your bed, and step into the fresher to start the water. 

45 minutes later, you don’t feel better, but you do feel a little more like you. And you absently drop on the couch to place your food order.

You order your favorite, and then scowl at the app that said that you needed to order more food for it to be delivered. 

“Dumb. Why is there a minimum delivery-” You bitch to the empty room, just in a bad mood in general, but you also order a second meal as well as some breadsticks and a dessert. 

At least you won’t have to worry about making dinner tomorrow.

You drop your datapad on the table, and turn to the holo. Time to find your favorite movie. You’re sure you saw it in here not that long ago-

An hour later, when you’re half way through the movie, there’s a knock on your apartment door. And you huff out a sigh as you push to your feet. It’s about time your dinner arrived, you’re starving.

You cross the apartment and push the button to open the door, “Thanks for the deliv-” You stop as you turn to look at the person on the other side of the door.

He is definitely not the delivery droid you’ve been waiting for.

“...Bly?”

Bly smiles at you, nervously. He looks nice, dressed up in the casual clothes that you bought for him, “Hey there, sunshine. Can I come in?”

You automatically move to the side, “I thought you were on a date?” You ask as he steps into your apartment and removes his shoes, “What happened?”

He glances at you, “Ah, yeah. Well, I was. And now I’m not.”

“It…” He walks deeper into your apartment and you allow the door to slam shut as you chase after him, “Bly, your reservation was half an hour ago-” You fret as you follow him into the living room.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You did show up, right?”

Bly’s gaze is directed to the cartoon on the holo, “Having a bad night, sunshine?”

“I…what?”

“You told me once that this is your Bad Day movie.” Bly clarifies, as he turns to look at you, a small frown crossing his face as he scans your face, “Sunshine, have you been crying? Your eyes are red.” He says as he steps closer to you and lightly tilts your head back so he’s able to see your face better.

You blink at him, “Bly! What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“Ah. Right.” He releases your chin and takes a step back, “I did go to the restaurant with General Secura, at the time for the reservation, and we sat down and…” He trails off.

“...and? And what?”

“It didn’t feel right.”

“Bly, you’re not making sense. I did all of that work for you-” You seethe, “And you couldn’t even stay for the whole dinner-?”

He holds up his hands to try and calm you, “I realized, as I was sitting there with General Secura, that I didn’t want to be there with her.”

You blink at him, twice, “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, I hope you didn’t tell her that? That’s so mean.”

Bly laughs, “She also told me that being there with me felt awkward and weird.”

“Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. She helped me figure out who I did want to be there with.”

You feel a sharp pang of hurt, though you do your best to make sure that he doesn’t see it. “Okay. So you need my help to ask this new person on a date?”

“No. I don’t, actually.” Bly replies, his gaze still locked on your face, “Sunshine, why were you crying.”

“I…watched a sad movie.” You lie, badly.

Bly takes a step towards you and very gently reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek, “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Yeah. I know.” You mutter, “It…it’s not important, Bly. Really.”

“It’s important enough to make you cry.” Bly counters.

“Bly-”

“Is it my fault?”

You stare at him, stunned, “I…wha-...why would you ask me that?”

“It is then.” Bly murmurs, “I didn’t think…” He rubs a hand over his head, “You seemed so happy to help-”

You sigh, “I want you to be happy, Bly. No matter what.”

“And…what about your happiness?”

“Unimportant, in the grand scheme of things.” You say with an awkward shrug. A moment later, the doorbell rings, and you pull away from him to get your food from the delivery droid.

You tip the droid, and take the food, before you return to the living room, and set the bag of food on the table. “Um, so I have extra food, if you want some. They changed the minimum for delivery-” You trail off when you see the look on his face, and you shift nervously.

He looks mad. Like you said something to make him angry.

“Bly?”

His gaze locks with yours and he smiles. He steps closer to you and lightly taps your chin, “Sunshine,” Bly almost coos, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“You…wha-” Your words are cut off by the gentle press of his lips against yours. The kiss is very chaste, very respectful, and Bly breaks the kiss soon after he instigates it, and he presses his forehead against yours.

His dark eyes scan your face again, and then he smiles wryly, “That was inappropriate of me, I suppose.”

You blink at him, dumbly, “...you can be more inappropriate with me. If you want.” You offer shyly.

He grins at you, “I might just take you up on that offer…later.” His lips graze yours, and he pulls back, “But how about, we eat this food you bought us and restart this movie and turn this into our first date.”

“...you want to date me?” You ask.

“Is that so surprising?”

“But I-”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yes?”

“General Secura is so much prettier than me-”

“I disagree. And even if she was,” Bly says, “You’re my Sunshine. How could I possibly be happy without you by my side?”

Your face heats, “...I’d like to date you,” You whisper.

“Great! Then let’s start now!”

#star wars #tcw #commander bly x reader #bly x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[finniestoncrane]

💜🍴 Finnie's 1.5k Follower Event 🍴💚

CLOSED by health inspector

even though it felt like this took forever it really didn't because i've only been on here and writing for just over a year, and i'm so grateful that people still follow me despite my personality as a whole lmao, i wanted to do something silly and goofy so here's my prompt list for my milestone ;-; hello and welcome to the vill-inn, gotham's newest restaurant (and definitely 100% not a money-laundering front for nefarious rogue activity no sirree u-u) please come on in and peruse the menu and let us know what you want to eat!! send in your order + reader/insert gender/pronouns/genitals too! the restaurant is now closed as well as writing headcanons and drabbles, i'm also doing a little give away! so anyone who asks off anon (or not, check the specials menu below) i'll enter into a little silly draw for a 1k commission and pick 3 winners u-u 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block)

Hello, welcome to Vill-Inn, how will you be DIE-ning with us today?

Sit-In [drabbles/short fic]

Takeout [bullet-point/free form story/headcanon style]

Delivery [surprise me]

Great! Wonderful! What can I get you to drink? And don't say fear toxin! (I'm this close to quitting...) (pick 1)

Water [hurt/comfort]

Soda [angst]

Milkshake [fluff]

Signature Cocktail [smut/pwp]

Black Coffee [doesn't matter/surprise me]

And what will you be having for your MAIM course? (pick 1, feel free to specify the version)

Question Mark Shaped Nuggies [riddler]

Sushi Platter [penguin]

Pumpkin Ravioli [scarecrow]

Surf and Turf [two face]

Arroz con Pollo [bane]

Steak [victor zsasz]

Cucumber Sandwiches [mad hatter]

Garden Salad [poison ivy]

Gut Buster Burger [harley quinn]

Gazpacho [mr freeze]

Plain Noodles with Butter [john doe]

Gumbo [killer croc]

BBQ Platter [captain boomerang]

And what loyal side(kick)s are you having with that? (pick up to 4)

🍟 Regular Fries [waking up with them]

🧇 Waffle Fries [sex in a public place]

🍠 Sweet potato Fries [visiting them in Arkham/Blackgate]

➰ Curly Fries [only one bed]

🍁 Poutine [slow dancing]

🥔 Potato Skins [at a party]

🍕 Pizza Bites [tending to wounds]

🍗 Chicken Wings [confession/confessing feelings]

🍔 Sliders [exacting revenge]

🌭 Mini Dogs [hate/angry sex]

🍤 Popcorn Shrimp [hugs from behind]

🐔 Chicken Strips [oral sex/how they give and receive]

🍿 Cheese Popcorn [bite marks/marking kink]

🥒 Deep Fried Pickles [sloppy kisses]

🧅 Blooming Onion [being rejected]

🍘 Rice Crackers [choking]

🍞 Bread Rolls [blood play]

🧄 Garlic Bread [straddling]

🥖 Breadsticks [neck/wrist kisses]

🥪 Half Sandwich [giving/receiving praise]

🥣 Soup [argument]

🍜 Noodles [cuddles]

🍚 Steamed Rice [denial]

🦪 Oysters [rough sex]

🍣 Sushi Sampler [edging/orgasm denial]

🌽 Corn on the Cob [instructional masturbation]

🥕 Honey Glazed Carrots ["open your mouth"]

🥗 Green Salad ["do you need a hand?"]

🍅 Tomato Salad ["i have to go"]

🍏 Fruit Salad ["i shouldn't have to ask"]

🍆 Roasted Veg ["i've never done this before"]

🥦 Seared Broccoli ["i hate you"]

🧀 Cheese Platter ["it's too late"]

🍖 Meat Plate ["i've never wanted anything more"]

🍄 Sauteed Mushrooms ["do you want it rough or gentle?"]

🥑 Guacamole ["please don't leave"]

🥜 Toasted Peanuts ["i want to hear you"]

🥓 Bacon Bits ["i didn't say stop"]

💚 Specials Menu 💚

I'm Here For A Blind Date [tell me a bit about yourself and i'll do a character pairing for who you're having lunch with]

Can I Get A Seat At the Buffet? [i don't have an idea/want to ask off anon, but i want to be included in the draw - this message won't be answered]

thanks for visiting, and please feel free to tip your wait staff 💜

#finnie1500 #I’m hoping this inspires me to write a bit more!! I AM EXCITED #NOW LET US NEVER SPEAK OF MILESTONES AGAIN FOR AT LEAST FOUR YEARS HOPEFULLY #I kept looking at the follower account too much #finnie shouts into the void

[steddieas-shegoes]

Headcanon sentences!;

1. "You're going to be a good sad someday, Teddy bear" teddy bear = Eddie's nickname

2. "Saying yes to you was the best decision of my life"

3. Based on me playing Steddie in the Sims 4: Steddie playing Sims 4 and "How do you keep setting the stove on fire making Mac and cheese?!"

🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🐼

Okay assuming that's a typo and you meant dad this one's gooooood shit

No one had expected Max to be the first one with a baby, or a baby at all for that matter.

But here she was, 22 years old, Lucas by her side, holding their newborn baby boy with the biggest smile on her face.

She'd only given birth a few hours ago, Lucas' family coming in to visit before she even got a chance to take it in.

Eddie had never held a baby. Not once.

But he knew how to comfort Max, had been the best at it for the last 8 years or so. She looked exhausted, and he immediately put his arm around her shoulders and let her rest her head on his shoulder.

"Proud of you, Red. Look at this little gremlin. Poor thing looks like Lucas. Hope he grows out of that."

Lucas interrupted his own conversation with Steve to glare at him.

"You wanna hold him?"

Eddie couldn't exactly turn that down, not when Max looked like she was kind of asking for a break without actually asking for one.

She gently placed the sleeping baby in his arms.

He felt it immediately: the why someone would put their body through this, the why people choose to throw a specific type of fun out the window to have kids.

"Decided on a name?"

Max leaned her head up from where she'd rested it on her pillow.

"Yeah. Steve? Stop talking to Lucas and come look at my baby."

Steve did as she asked, like he always did. It was no secret she was tied for favorite kid with Dustin.

"Steve, Eddie, this is Andrew Steven Sinclair."

Eddie and Steve looked up at her together, equally surprised by the name choice.

They both cried, and Max rolled her eyes, but didn't tease them about it, probably already warned to be kind by Lucas.

Steve held him for a few minutes, walking around the room and gently rocking his arms to keep him asleep.

Eddie watched until it was his turn again.

He held him for nearly 30 minutes before Steve finally told him they needed to go and let Max and Lucas rest and bond with Andrew alone.

As they left the hospital, Eddie kept rambling about things he wanted to buy for Andrew, things he wanted to do with him as he got older. It continued on for the entire drive to their apartment in the city and even over dinner that night.

Finally, Steve kissed him, effectively shutting him up long enough to talk.

"You're gonna be a good dad someday, teddy bear."

Eddie blushed.

He saw it now. He saw what Steve wanted so badly and now he wanted it too.

He'd make sure they had it somehow.

--------

2. This could be so sappy but what if it was funny instead

It was late.

They were tired.

Food didn't make itself and they were way too exhausted to do it themselves.

"I could just call in pizza."

Steve had turned down takeout already because of their budget or whatever, but Eddie was too hungry to care about a budget now.

"Fine. But just a small. No drinks or breadsticks."

Eddie jumped up before Steve could change his mind.

Because it was so late, the pizza was delivered quickly. Weird how no one else wanted pizza delivery at one in the morning.

They both let out loud moans at the first bite, smiling at their pizza slices like they found long lost loves.

"Aren't you glad I convinced you to order pizza?"

"Saying yes to you was the best decision of my life."

"And they call me the dramatic one!"

"Shut up and eat your pizza."

-----------------------------------

3. Okay but actually funny story one time I did forget I was boiling water to make mac and cheese (I was in like 6th grade leave me alone) and nothing caught on fire but the kitchen sure didn't smell good for a while

In a strange turn of events, Eddie took on a nanny job when they moved to Chicago. It paid well and he was guaranteed off for any shows his band played, plus all the major holidays and half of summer.

It paid so well, in fact, Steve could focus on his college classes instead of also having to work.

Every Monday, instead of going to the family's house, they dropped their five year old daughter, Emily, at Steve and Eddie's apartment.

They'd have a full day of walking to the park at the end of the block on nice days, or playing with Eddie's "for fun" guitar, or laying out tons of paper across the kitchen floor and finger painting, or playing princess and dragons.

Eddie was great at it. Except for the whole cooking part.

Usually, meals were prepped already when he went to Emily's house. But on Mondays, he had to make lunch and dinner for her.

He stuck to sandwiches for lunch, but dinner could get rough.

He managed to do okay with microwaving chicken nuggets or cooking frozen pizzas.

But he'd gone through two stoves from trying to make mac and cheese.

He was persistent though, knew if he just focused on only the mac and cheese, nothing would burn or catch on fire or break.

Unfortunately, Emily chose to have a Code Red Emergency just when he added the pasta to the pot.

It's fine, I have 8 minutes to fix what she needs me to.

Emily had broken one of the minifigures that Eddie used for D&D and she was heartbroken. Eddie explained it could be fixed, he'd just glue it tonight and she could play with it again next week, but she was inconsolable.

Naturally, he got distracted trying to help her and the smoke alarm started going off.

"Shit!"

"That's a bad word!"

"I know!"

Eddie managed to handle it before the fire got big, but their mac and cheese was burnt and he would just have to settle for some fish sticks.

Emily got picked up and her parents smirked at the smell and slight haze to the air, but didn't comment.

Steve, however, wasn't going to ignore it.

"Oh my God, you did it again didn't you?"

"Did what?"

"How do you keep setting the stove on fire making mac and cheese?!"

"Emily was having a crisis!"

"We're going to have a crisis if you don't get to it in time and burn the whole apartment complex to the ground!"

They made a new rule that night that he wasn't allowed to make any kind of pasta anymore unless Steve was home to watch.

He'd feel stupid if it wasn't such a good idea.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

[bubblingbowie]

distracting me | argyle x reader

no use of pronouns, feminine terms(boobs and skirts and such), plus sized reader

summary: you work two stores down from argyle. he always sees you and sometimes talks to you. he wants to look away from you sometimes, but you look so good.

warnings: argyles a perv i’m ngl to you lmao, reader is plus size and talk about body image n such, smut but no actual full on sex, just booby sucking, but like descriptions of him jerkin it to you lol, you can call the reader dom but they just take charge, it’s a cliff hanger oh noooo. i think that’s it??

words: 2.3k

you always walk through the strip he works at. a cute babe trotting their way to work two stores down from surfer boy pizza. and every time you walk by the window, he looks.

he doesn’t have the strongest grasp on social awareness, especially when he’s high, so he gawks. jaw dropped, his eyes doe eyes, arms heavy. you’re beautiful. every time he sees you he gets hot. his cheeks and nose gets bright red, a compliment to his bloodshot eyes. he can’t help but want to know what you feel like. how plush your thighs are in his grasp. how your breasts spill out between his hands while holding them. he thinks about it a lot. and gets hard at work a lot.

the first time you come in on your lunch break, he practically begs the cashier to let him take your order. he just wants to know how you sound. what your voice is like. is it high pitched and light? is it low and deep? either way, he could bet at least $10 that he’ll love it.

“welcome to surfer boy pizza, the best pizza you could get, unless you count dominos but do you think you’ll get as good service? no. you need some water? we got you dude! if you need anything at all we’ll get it for you! i mean we can even get you other things than pizza! except money cuz that’d be considered stealing, man.” he looked at you, feeling his cheeks get hot when he found your eyes not bored like most people when he rambles, but intrigued. he doesn’t get that often, accept with jonathan.

“that sounds great thanks man. i’ll just get uhhh two slices of pineapple pizza. i’ve always wanted to try it ever since i saw the sign for it outside. my friends say it looks weird but honestly“ he was cut off by his thoughts. you’re perfect. he could listen to you for hours. but the worst part was, he could feel his pants tightening. you bent over slightly while talking to him made him go crazy with the sight of your tits in front of him. “-so yeah that’s how i thought pineapple was a vegetable.” a small pause ”wait i was ordering right?”

“y-yeah. pizza.” he stuttered. “that’s all we do here.”

“and breadsticks.” you smiled. his length twitched at that smile. he’s so glad you can only see him waist up right now. he didn’t acknowledge your comment before turning around and telling the order to the people in the kitchen. he looked over his shoulder slowly to see you still staring at him, making him quickly look away. he needs you so bad.

“yeah the pizza will be out soon. could i uh..have your name..to call out?” they don’t call out names, just the order. he just really wanted to know your name. you said yours looking at the kitchen behind him curiously.

“whoa..uh chill name. very cool.” he smiled brushing off the clear cloudiness in his mind from the thought of fucking you. he wants to feel weird about it. but he just wants to feel you.

you just nodded and walked off to the side. he didn’t want to talk to anyone besides you so he walked away. from the counter, from everyone, from you and locked himself in the bathroom. what was he doing to do with himself?

the second time you went into the shop was three days later. it was lunch rush and argyle was already busy with other customers to notice you walking in. he can’t lie, he missed talking to you. missed seeing you. he had already jerked it 7 times to the thought of you since he last saw you.

you walked to him ready to order. he spun around and was shocked, expecting anyone else but you.

“hey dude welcome to- oh shit…hey man you’re back.” he looked you up and down at your outfit. it was so fucking tight on you. your thighs were extruding out and it was all he could focus on. he could beg for you to turn around right now. that would be some real eye candy.

“yeah i’m back! can’t really go anywhere else here. i’ll have the two slices of pineapple pizza again. i gotta say you got me hooked on it.” he shouldn’t be so happy he had an impact on you for something so small but for now he sees you as a goddess. and it’s truly an honor to be talking to you.

“always live by the rule of try before you deny!” you laughed at that and went to get your wallet to pay. he shamelessly gawked at your chest. thank god you weren’t looking at him, but once you did, his eyes shot up at you.

“how much is it?” you asked

“huh?”

“the pizza. how much do i owe you?” you have a sweet smile, waiting for his reply.

“oh! four thirty seven.” you help out a five and he took it. “that’ll be out in a minute” he paused before saying your name, he loved how it sounded. he’s said it so many times before, just with his cock in his hands. but you didn’t know that. that’s what made it fun.

the third time was when he was closing. the kitchen was cooled and down. tables sanitized and chairs put away. but somehow you came in.

“oh crap you’re closing. sorry, i had the munchies.” you said, not even inside yet. wait. did your clothes get any tighter? or was he loosing blood in his head from the raging boner he had by seeing your top. thin. you weren’t leaving anything up to the imagination. and he wasn’t angry. he bathed in your body’s light. people would scoff and laugh at your stomach. make fun of your rolls. of course he didn’t think anything was wrong with you, because nothing was. but the fact you were confident enough to ignore them or even say something back? that’s what made him rock hard every night.

that’s what made him think about how you’d feel in his lap. looking all pretty, smoke around you. half lidded lust catching up and you bounce up and down on him. how do you moan? are they more like whimpers? either way he’d drink them up like nectar.

“no hey! you can stay man. the uh..the drink machines still going if you want something. a coke or anything.” he tried desperately to convince you to stay. he wanted to be alone with you. you didn’t even have to do anything. just sitting with you and talking to you would be enough jerk off material for him later.

“oh yeah sure! that’s fine i suppose.” you walk in and set your stuff down on the counter. “mind giving me a cup?” he scrambled to say ‘sure’ and ran to the back, searching for the red plastic cups they use. he looked at you through the small window from the kitchen. what if he made his move? what if…he did something with you? oh god. he can’t even think about it.

“here you go. get whatever you’d like, man. you have the luxury here.” he gave a small laugh looking down at you as you smiled at him. you quickly turned around and walked to the machine and. there it was. he’s been waiting for you to turn around and flaunt that ass for weeks. he almost moaned from the sight of if. you were so plump. so full and he couldn’t handle it. the thoughts of taking you to his van and making you his was almost unbearable.

“is it alright if i sit on the counter? the chairs are all put away and ive been standing all day” you look at him, sipping on your straw from your drink.

“no yeah go ahead dude. we can stay here as long as you want. actually maybe after 9 would be good. but even after maybe i could take you in my van. i know a good road to just drive on and…it’d be neat to..drive..” god help him you looked too tempting. again, with no social awareness, he stared. your cleavage hypnotizing him like some sort of sex crazed middle schooler. although he wasn’t far from that.

“you alright, ari?” that nickname. when other people say it, it’s always just kind of nice. when you said it, everything in him wanted to lay you down on the counter and put his face between your legs.

“dude…can i be honest?” he said, putting his hands on the counter on each side of you. you had a worried sick expression.

“yeah go ahead. do you want me to leave? oh shit i knew i was over stepping i always do this! i’ll leave you so-“ he couldn’t think, he just wanted you to know he wants you. he slowly moves his hands off the counter and onto your hips.

“you’re the hottest thing i’ve ever seen. and i work around pizza ovens” you want to laugh at his horrible joke but the way his hands are glued onto your mid hip, just meeting your thighs.

“dude..what are you-“

“your tits are unbelievable, man.” he interrupted. he wasn’t even listening to you. he just wanted to grope and feel and squeeze. now you knew what’s up with him. the man is horny. because of you. argyle saw a grin on you and looked up at you, not moving his head.

“you think so? i think they’re alright.” you shrugged, looking back at him. the tension was like rubber, if one of you let go of one end, it would snap and who knows what would happen.

“just alright? i’ve seen many but dude these make shannon tweeds look like nothing, man.” then he stopped with words and movement alike. “hey if you don’t wanna do any of this, no hard feelings. i’m a man and i’ll back off if you want.” in shock of him not picking up hints, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“touch me more ari.” with a slow nodding of his head he placed his palms back into your waist. moving up and up and up until…jackpot. he started slow with holding your chest. soft light touches. then when he saw there was no discomfort, he squeezed. and there was a whine from your lips.

there was the snap.

“holy shit…” he gasped, feeling the tightening feeling in the pants once again.

“enjoying yourself babe?” babe? ari wants to do so much to you just to say that again. he nods eagerly. he puts his finger just slightly into your shirt, signaling he wants to pull it down. with a quick nod while looking into those glossy eyes, he pulls and your tits fall out.

it was like christmas for him. this angel before him and their even more angelic boobs right in front of his face.

“you just gonna stare at them?” you tilted you head to the side and gently put your hand on top of his head. he knew what you meant. and he couldn’t be more eager.

he leaned forward and put his lips around your left bud, earning a groan from you, the vibration traveling to his lips. he’s done this before but he’s never been this needy. he’s drooling all over your tits and all you can do is enjoy his deprived licks and prods and your chest.

he didn’t once take his lips away from your skin traveling to the other mound, just kissed his way over. he was gentle with his touching but his kissing and sucking? harsh.

“ari come here” you softly spoke to not startle him. he looked up and detached his lips, a string of drool following. you urged his head gently up to your face and kissed him. yup. a harsh kisser. but who can blame him? he likes you so much that he can’t believe this is even happening! “how long have you wanted to do this hm?” you spoke as you pulled away and he sighed.

“i think..since you started working where you are. you always walked by where i could see you. dude i gotta say..you’re gorgeous. not just hot but beautiful. you’re still hot but i want you to know it that you’re both.” he saw your expression of confusion. wide eyed and eyebrows furrowed. “am i making sense?”

“perfect sense” you kissed his forehead, accepting his confession of a crush. then moved for another kiss on his lips. “what do you want to do to me babe?”

“i can choose?” he said sitting up more straight to look at you, he wanted to be more leveled with you.

“unless you want me to. i can take control.” you said with a grin, giving him infamous ‘fuck me’ eyes. it’s like the more you do, the more he shuts down and want to be taken care of.

“w-well…maybe i could…see what between” he drifted off as he leaned down just above your thighs, placing his hand on top of them. “these sweet babies” he was sweating with anticipation.

“you wanna taste me?” you said pure raw need laced within your voice. all he did was nod his. “come on words babe”

“yeah. id love to.” a grin was placed onto your face.

“then get to work.”

#argyle stranger things #argyle x reader #argyle x y/n #x plus size reader #plus size reader #argyle x reader smut

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 15: Stop, You're Losing Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael needs a stapler, but you realize too late that you told him to check all the drawers on your desk, and he finds something you never wanted him to see.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, protective Michael

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: I wanted to wait with finishing posting this, but I had a really shit day and I probably won’t get to write for this series for a while now, anyway, so this might be the only Mikey snippet you get to see for a while :( My life’s all over the place and once I pass my last final (which I’m counting on) there is a lot more stress coming toward me. Mikey is gonna move to the background a bit. But it also gives everyone time to catch up with the updates. That being said though, the angst train has arrived. Hop on!

You settle in at home later that night, pizza cartons in front of you both as you indulge in the dinner you agreed on that you would have. 

You’re happily chewing on your breadsticks and sipping your wine while Michael is having a glass of water (when he told you he doesn’t drink, you reminded him that he did when he came to visit you at the café the night you were both having a bad time, and he told you that he decided not to drink anymore after that, so you let him be). 

Work wasn’t as exhausting with him there. You had fun. And when you saw him and Sarah talking about your little spider incident, you found yourself smiling because you could tell she was trying to accept him, and Michael was kind enough to respect her boundaries.

Whatever happened between them while you were getting milk, you’re not sure, but you’re glad they found common ground. Whatever that ground might be. She doesn’t know everything about you, so she couldn’t have shared truths about you that you don’t want him to know. Whatever they talked about, it doesn’t matter because you’re happy now. 

You watch Michael as he eats, his hair standing in all possible directions; he ran his hand through it a few times before, trying to ease the tension in his scalp. He did a lot of heavy work before prison, in prison, and with Amanda, but today has been exhausting in a much different way–positively so. His bones ache, but he feels good about it, and that makes the soreness and the exhaustion so much more rewarding. 

He looks endearing like this. Even though he’s slightly sweaty, disheveled, and tired, he is still so endlessly beautiful to you. Like an antique vase adorned ihr paintings not many understand; that’s what his scars are too you, and everything else he might hate about himself.

He looks content–happy, almost–and you want nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. He deserves to feel this way more than anyone else in this godforsaken world, you think. He deserves to be loved and happy, and he deserves to move on the way he wants to.

You reach for one of the breadsticks and point it in his direction. “Breadstick?” you ask. 

He snaps out of his thoughts, smiling tiredly at you as he leans on his hand. “That’s the last one,” he says. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m offering.”

“They’re yours.”

“You want it or not?”

“You’re still hungry–”

“Want me to feed it to you?” You get up. “You know I will.”

Michael chuckles. You approach him with the breadstick, your lips curled up into a smile. His eyes meet yours. “Ya really gonna feed me?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. 

You shrug. “You look a bit tired, I'm just trying to help.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then why do you act like one?”

With a playful huff, he opens his mouth slightly. You hold the breadstick in front of him, pretending to contemplate for a moment before bringing it closer, closer, and just as it reaches his lips, you swiftly pull it back. “Hmm, or maybe I changed my mind,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Playin' hard to get with a breadstick now, are we?” he retorts. “Tha’s low, love, even for you.”

You giggle and give in, bringing the breadstick back to his waiting lips. He takes a bite, savoring the flavor, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting in front of you.

“Taste good?” you ask.

Nodding, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. You chuckle. As soon as he has successfully swallowed, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips that are still oily from the grease of the pizza, and you both taste like garlic and onions, but he’s still too sweet to resist.

You hold his head up with your finger under his chin, tugging a little at his beard, and he deepens the kiss. Your finger moves from his chin to his cheek now, and you pull him flush against you. His hand strokes leisurely over your back, and you sigh happily into his mouth. 

Breaking the kiss for a quick breath, you rest your forehead against his. His hand is tangled in your hair now, gently massaging your scalp. It’s an instant snooze button for you. You could fall asleep like this in his arms and it wouldn’t matter, but you’re sweaty and your mouth tastes like pizza, so you eventually need to clean up. For now, though, you can rest together at the table, and share some more kisses until one of you starts getting drowsy enough to cut it short. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. 

He nuzzles his nose against yours. “I love ya too,” Michael murmurs. 

You press your lips on his cheek. “I love you,” – you kiss his other cheek – “I love you,” and you continue pressing your lips all over his face until his nose scrunches and he giggles when it tickles.

“You know what I do?” you ask.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Let me guess,” he says, “ya love me?”

“Mhm, I love you.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Michael lets out a soft sigh when you start stroking his hair, and another confession slips past your lips, followed by the same three words as many times as you can say them, and he returns them every single time. 

Eventually, you start yawning. “We should get washed up,” you tell him. 

He kisses your collarbone. “Yeah, we should.”

“Did you fill out all the insurance forms?”

“Yeah.”

“And your forms for the solicitor; got them, too? I don’t remember what they’re called.”

He nods again. 

He got an appointment with his solicitor fairly quickly after he begged the secretary to put him through. He feels good about his chances in the case with Anna–a case that isn’t even a real case yet–he just needs a professional to tell him if he’s right. He needs to hear that he’s not getting his hopes up but that he actually has a chance.

The past few meetings had been awful, but he feels more positive this time around because he has proof of his efforts to be better now, and you promised you would vouch for him if someone required proof that he is in a relationship–you promised you would provide all he needs you to provide and more, and he’s thankful for that.

Michael offers you a soft smile. The forms are on the living room table; he left them there after filling them out while you were waiting on your food and you decided it would be a good idea to clean your cupboards–he wasn’t allowed to help.

“Yeah, I just need to staple ‘em,” he says. “I’ll take care of it when I’m home.”

You rub your eyes. “Or you could use mine,” you say.

“Or I could do tha. That’d be grand.”

You get off his lap and make your way to the living room with Michael in tow. “It’s in one of the drawers on my desk. Knock yourself out.”

You’re not conscious, you can’t be because if you had been in your right mind, you wouldn’t have offered him to check your desk for a stapler, let alone your drawers, instead of doing it yourself.  

Michael moves over to your desk. There is no stapler on the top, so he pulls open the first drawer. The one with the lock. He doesn’t think about it at the moment because it opens, but then he feels the lock on the outside and he remembers all the times he watched you lock it in the morning before you left for work.

Your eyes widen. “Not that drawer!” you call out, but it’s too late.

You made a mistake and now his eyes are focused right on the newspaper clippings and brown paper file you are so careful to keep locked away at all times.

You forgot to lock it and it’s your fault he‘a seeing them now, but you still find yourself feeling so violated. This is your privacy and he is staring directly at it, not moving an inch away from it. He doesn’t pretend he didn’t see them; he stares at the contents as if he has every right to.

It starts slowly breaking your frozen heart. It doesn’t thaw, it breaks, and ice is a vulnerable state of consistency. Either it melts or it breaks, and when it breaks, it hurts. You’re fragile. This is hurting you–he is hurting you–and the glass shards start digging into your soul as they nick artery after artery.

Michael’s eyes fall inside the drawer, and it’s then that he realizes that your secrets run even deeper than the phone call he overheard–they run deeper than anything he could have expected and more. It’s earth-shattering, to say the least. 

He takes the papers out of the drawer, his fingers tracing over the brittle newspaper clippings. But there is more where it came from. 

“Love,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “What is this?”

He doesn’t want to accuse you of anything. He wants to give you a moment to explain, to tell him what you’re hiding and who hurt you, but when his eyes fall on you, he is met with a brick wall. 

‘3-year-old killed in a car crash’

‘Car accident leaves 3-year-old dead, two more injured and police baffled’

‘What really happened on December 13th?’

And the file he’s holding carries your last name. The first name, he doesn’t recognize, but the surname is undoubtedly yours. There is a post-it on one of the pictures; a little girl next to a bigger yet still little girl. Eleanor, it reads, with the year 2015 written underneath it. He was still in jail back then.

Six years ago. 

Your eyes are glued on the papers he’s holding, and his shock mixes with yours. 

“You weren’t supposed to find this,” you whisper. 

“What the hell happened?” Michael asks. His eyebrows furrow and his hazel eyes fill with the purest form of concern, and when you look into them, your heart tears open a little more. “Why– who is Eleanor?” He asks out of genuine curiosity, which is precisely the problem. 

You snap out of your daze, and the trap snaps shut around your ankle as the steel curtain closes, trying to keep the smoldering fire out.

You tear the file from his hands, hugging it tightly to your chest. The wolves are circling in on you and you have nowhere to run. The walls of your apartment start caving in. The ticking of the clock sounds deafeningly loud in your ear, the voices screaming out of every corner of your mind, and you just want to scream.

You want to scream because it hurts so much, and yet you can’t ask for help or talk about it because there is still a part of you inevitably holding you back. You’ve been forced to shoulder it alone from the beginning, and now that Michael caught a glimpse of the truth, you feel like he has torn the bandaid off your scars, but they weren’t fully healed yet, so you’re bleeding out internally all over again until you die a slow and agonizing death. 

His eyes soften and he takes a step forward. He knows he crossed a line, but he couldn’t help it. It was instinct to grab the documents. He had hoped you would tell him, but he should have known that you would start feeling cornered by him. You’re not the most open person out there; you remind him of a frightened deer, almost, and he is supposed to protect you from heartbreak rather than cause it. But here you are, close to crying, and you curl in on yourself. 

“I didn't mean to–” he whispers. “God, I’m so sorry, love. I wasn’t thinkin’…”

You shake your head, hugging the files tighter. He knows too much. The more he knows, the more danger he is in. The more he knows, the more vulnerable you grow. And the more he knows, the more real the truth becomes and it starts eating you alive the same way it did four years ago. You wanted nothing more than to be happy. You were happy for a moment, but it was torn from you in an instant.

A few seconds is all it took for everything to change. 

“But–“ he takes a deep breath, finding some composure left in him. “If you talked to me, I could help ya.” Michael’s hazel eyes hold a hopeful glint that hits you like a knife. “I know ya’ve been hidin’ some things from me and I get it, but… if yer in danger,” he says, “I need to know. Ya don’t have to carry everythin’ alone. You told me tha.”

You bite your lip. “You shouldn’t have opened that drawer,” you say. 

Silent anger. He knows your defensive response all too well. 

“I was just lookin’ for a stapler,” he reminds you softly. “Ya told me to, remember? For my documents. I didn’t mean ta– I would never invade yer privacy on purpose.”

Not on purpose and especially not out of malicious intent.

He thought about it, but thinking and doing are two entirely different things. He’s not that type of person. You’re supposed to know that. You know him better than he knows himself, but right now, neither of you seems to have really known the other. Or so it feels like, anyway.

Michael is defeated, and now he is the one cornered because curiosity got the better of him. He should have ignored it.

“It wasn’t your place,” you repeat. “You weren’t supposed to find it.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He takes another step forward, his hand reaching for you as he tries to pull you back from the edge, but you recoil. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” he says. “If you don’t wanna talk, that’s alright, but… but this seems serious, love. Please, talk t’me. At least tell me that yer safe or- or that I’m overreactin’, and I promise, I’ll drop it. Just please…Give me somethin’, anythin’, to know yer alright and this isn’t as serious as I think it is.”

Your jaw tightens. You’re being unfair, and you know that before you even open your mouth, but you’re raging inside, you curse yourself and the world and your father, and you think about Maya and all that you could lose, and you can’t do this to him. He was never meant to find out, especially not like this; that’s on you and you alone. 

If you had put in just a little more effort, or if you hadn’t let him in in the first place…

“You know you shouldn’t have seen that,” you say, your tone growing a lot more stern. “You know you shouldn’t have seen it and yet you took it out. I told you, I struggle with commitment, with trust, and you abused it! Michael–”

“Hey,” he interrupts you. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he matches your tone. “I was worried,” he repeats. “I was worried ‘bout ya, that’s all. You can’t blame me for wantin’ the woman I love to be safe. That’s not fair.”

“It wasn’t your place!” your broken voice roars across the room. “You violated my trust. You could have just let it be. You–” You break off to take a deep breath. The lump in your throat gets stuck.

You want nothing more than to step forward, fall into his arms and cry, but you’re stuck. You are physically unable to move, and it is all your fault. 

“I could tell somethin’ was off,” Michael takes another step toward you, “and I’m sorry for lettin’ my curiosity get the better o’ me. I know this is your life and your privacy–believe me, I do–but… somethin’ isn’t right here. Something’s botherin’ you. I told ya, I’d do anythin’ to protect ya. I wasn’t jokin’ when I said tha, pet.“

Something about the look in his eyes tells you that he was honest then and he is just as honest now. Deadly serious.

But you’re too caught up in whatever poison is infecting your bloodstream with its ideology to see things clearly. “No,” you whisper. “This fucks up everything.”

“What does it fuck up? Tell me.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t… you weren’t supposed to happen, but you did anyway, and so I tried keeping it from you, but I failed again, and now everything’s so fucking fucked up. Fuck!”

“Yer not makin’ any sense right now. What’s goin’ on? Talk t’me, please. I can see yer hurtin’ and it breaks my heart–“

You take a step back when he comes even closer. “No,” you say.

“Does it have anythin’ to do with your sister?” he asks, and by now, he’s not even trying to hide what he did anymore. “When she called ya this mornin’ and you went to your bedroom to talk. Does tha have anything to do with it?”

“What?” You look up to meet his eyes.

He didn’t… did he? You were being careful. You went into a different room. You whispered. You made sure he wouldn’t hear. 

Did he hear you? If he did, you’re beyond fucked, and the worst part would be that he kept it to himself the whole day without admitting it to you. 

Liar, a voice in your head calls, and your defenses become stronger, the alarm blaring and you want nothing more than to run. 

Michael takes a deep breath. The guilt in his eyes is answering enough for you, but you are too stiff to move anywhere, and he is coming closer by the second.

“I wanted to check on ya ‘cause ya didn’t look alright, and I overheard the phone call with your sister,” he admits. “I didn’t mean ta, but… I did.”

“Oh, my God!” Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you swear you can feel your heart stop. 

So he knows. He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough to draw conclusions, and now that he’s found the file, he knows even more, and your whole life suddenly crumbles at your feet like paper that has burned to ashes. It hurts, but the pain isn’t good or pleasurable this time; you’re in emotional peril with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. You’re Jesus nailed to the cross. You’re stuck in a maze full of thorns. You can’t get out. 

He’s right in front of you now. “Someone’s hurt ya,” he says, “In more ways than one. I can tell. They’re still hurtin’ ya. And… I think I know who it is, I just need ya to tell me so I can help. I promise, I won’t let anyone come near ya. I love you so much,” he says your name, and his hand lifts in the air to cradle your cheek. “Just tell me and I’ll raise fuckin’ hell.”

The touch that made you feel safe before feels like a deadly brush of wind now.

You recoil, and Michael’s heart joins yours on the floor. “Don’t… don’t touch me,” you say. It’s not just words, you’re pleading him to get his hands off, and you have never done that before.

Your voice breaks. Tears start welling up in your eyes, but your body is so wound up, they won’t fall. 

You know you can’t be close to him. Even the thought of his touch hurts you. You need to be anywhere but here, and he needs to be somewhere far away from you, too. 

Michael pulls his hand away. God, you hate yourself. He looks like you just reached into his chest, grabbed his heart, and squeezed it in front of his eyes. The blood coats the floor along with the frozen pieces of your own heart, but it is his essence that paints the saddest picture. Maroon spills on the carpet, but this time there is nothing and no one to clean it up and pour it back into the glass. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You take a deep breath. “Maybe you should go.”

“No,” he doesn’t move, “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I can’t leave you like this.”

“Michael…”

He shakes his head. “Not before you let me in.”

“Stop,” your voice breaks again, and you can merely hold back the treacherous tears. 

He reaches out but stops himself this time. You look so broken and he can’t help you because you won’t let him, and he has never felt so torn inside. Being burned alive is nothing compared to how you’re making him feel now, and he should probably pull away for his own sake, but you wouldn’t be like this if you didn’t need help. 

“I love you,” he breathes, “So let me love ya. Please. You just have to tell me what’s goin’ on and I promise I can fix it.”

You swallow. “You don’t get to decide what I should or should not tell you,” you say. “And you had no right to pull those papers out and confront me as if I owe you an explanation.”

He wants nothing more than to scream. “I would never do tha.”

“But you did.”

“That’s not what happened and ya know it!”

You flinch a little at the sound of his voice, and he curses himself for losing his temper.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just scared and- and worried. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ta yell–“

It hurts that you won’t talk to him.

Your warmth disappears completely. Centimeters turn into a meter, and soon you’re standing right by the front door, your back turned to him as your hand hovers above the handle. 

“You should go,” you repeat.

“You can’t mean tha,” his voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I yelled, but please–“

“It’s not because of that.”

“Jesus, I know! I– What happened? Everythin’ was fine five minutes ago, we had dinner, we kissed, and now– why can’t ya just talk to me? I thought we trusted each other well enough by now ta know that there is no judgment. Ya know there isn’t, love. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Don’t push me away–”

Your voice cuts through the air like a knife, and it lands right in his chest. “I want you to leave,” you keep on insisting. 

He shakes his head. Standing behind you, he turns you around and grabs your face with his hands. You whimper. It hurts. He isn’t being harsh; his fingertips just hurt because they’re so gentle, so careful, and you can’t stand it. 

“Please,” he presses his forehead against yours, “don’t do this. Not over a fuckin’ stapler.”

But it’s more than a stapler, and he knows it.

Your nails dig into his wrists. “You have to go,” you say. “Please, you have to. I can’t…”

Michael clutches onto you, refusing to let go. “No. I love ya, and I'm terrified that if I leave, it's over for us. Just tell me we can survive this and tha... tha you still want us and I’ll go and give ya space, but I need to know that you won’t leave me.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can't offer him any reassurance. “I don't know–”

“I can’t live without you anymore. I need ya, love. Just think about this.”

“Please, Michael,” it is your turn to beg. “Right now, I need you to go. I need… I need you to leave. So please just do me a favor and go.”

In a moment of desperation, Michael leans in and kisses you. Even his lips burn.

You find yourself moving against him, but only for a brief moment before you gently push him away. “Stop it!” you snap. “This isn’t– I told you to leave.”

“I’m so sorry–” He lets go of you. 

You open the door.

Michael's gaze lingers on you for a moment, his eyes pleading with you to change your mind. But he knows, deep down, that you're right. Reluctantly, he turns away. His emotions wear heavy on his shoulders, dragging them down to his feet. But he doesn't want to fight with you. So he grabs his coat and the unstapled documents on your living room table and walks through the open door into the hallway. You're standing there, across from him, but you're still so far away. You're unreachable. 

He glances back at you. “Are ya sendin' me away forever or just fer now?” The question is a hard one to ask, and the answer, he knows, is going to be a bitter pill to swallow no matter what you tell him. 

You shift from one foot to the other, too ashamed to meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” you whisper. 

He was right; it is a very bitter pill to swallow. 

He got you not so long ago and now he is losing you, and he doesn’t even understand why. 

“Just answer me one more thing,” he says. “Did I just lose ya?”

You look down, unable to answer. You lost yourself, but there is no way you can explain it to him in a way that would make sense.

Without another word, he nods and wipes his nose, and then he heads toward the stairs. Your eyes linger on him, but when he turns around to look at you, the door falls shut and you’re gone. Just like that.

Michael is tied to the ground, the roots of his pain keeping him tethered there. He hears you slide down your door and then you’re sobbing loud enough to fill the hallway with your sad symphony. 

He wants to turn around, run back to you, and kick the door down to take you into his arms, but he’s hurt too, and he knows that if he runs back to you, you will only push back harder, and so he straightens his shoulders and leaves. 

He loved and he lost you, just like everything in his life, and he can’t help but feel like this is his fault all over again. He wasn’t made to be loved. 

In a moment of desperation, he pulls out his phone and sends a text, ‘Need a ride.’

Only a few seconds later, Jimmy’s name shows up on the screen, asking for the address, and he lets out a shuddering sigh of relief. 

The road to your apartment isn’t long, and with Jimmy’s driving style, the black car pulls onto your street in less than thirty minutes. His brother lets down the window, eyeing him and the tears in his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. 

Michael opens the door to the passenger side and gets in, foregoing the greetings. He’s still mad at him, but Jimmy is his brother and there has never not been a time he called him when he was in trouble. Tonight is no different. 

Jimmy looks at him. “Ya wanna tell me why ya told me ta pick you up here?” he asks. 

Shaking his head, Michael looks out the window as the landscapes start passing by. He bites down on his thumb, trying hard to keep the leftover tears at bay when he thinks about you broken on your apartment floor, crying as if you’re in excruciating pain, and he is nowhere near to help. 

But you don’t want his help, he needs to accept that. He can’t fix everything or everyone. And he can’t help you if you don’t want him to. It’s sad and it hurts, but it’s true.

“What happened?” Jimmy once again asks. “Was it yer girlfriend? Did she hurt ya?”

Michael shakes his head again. 

“Then why do you look like yer about to drown this car in tears?”

“I just needed a getaway car,” he answers. 

“Getaway car from wha?”

He’s not sure. Your relationship, maybe, but he would never run away from that if it wasn’t necessary. You made the choice, not him. He needed to get away before his heart could break anymore, that’s why he called Jimmy. He needs to go home, whether he likes it or not. And his brother is still family, despite how many times they argue. 

“Michael,” Jimmy urges him. “If she hurt ya, tell me and I’ll make sure that little girl knows she messed with the wrong family.”

“No,” Michael says, and this time his tone takes a dangerous tone. “You don’t get to touch her. Stay out of it. It doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Then tell me the truth!”

“She lied.”

“About?”

“She lied,” he repeats, his eyes once again trailing over the landscapes and city lights. “She lied and kept secrets and then she told me to leave, but she didn’t hurt me on purpose. Shit happens. We’re over. That enough for ya?”

Jimmy sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

But Michael doesn’t really hear him. The cotton engulfs him and with it, your sobs fade into the distance and the loneliness makes its home in his heart all over again. Gone is the happiness and the butterfly effect; it’s just him now, and he figures that maybe, this is exactly how he is supposed to be–lonely and alone. 

You’re not sure how long you have been lying there on the floor. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, you don’t know. Your eyes are burning from the tears you shed and your voice is hoarse from sobbing. The door is locked, but you somehow still wish Michael might come floating through it.

You’re such an idiot, but you can’t take back what you said. You shouldn’t. It was the right choice. Maybe pushing him away the way you did wasn’t the best idea, but the choice itself was the right one. 

If it was the right choice though, why does it hurt so much?

You manage to lift your aching body off the cold floor and into the kitchen where you find the wine bottle from dinner. You’ve only had a glass and it was still full when you got it. There’s enough to get rid of the pain, and yet not enough to make you forget. You don’t want to forget. You deserve the despair that comes with remembering, but you need some balm for your soul, and wine seems like the best choice to knock yourself out.

Michael didn’t deserve any of the things you said, and you should have never developed that crush on him in the first place. If you hadn’t, you couldn’t have hurt him so shortly after declaring your love for him. You tore his heart out, twisted the dagger deeper inside, and then impaled his heart and soul, too. You saw him slowly dying inside when he left, and you feel so guilty for making him go through so much shit again simply because you can’t face your own feelings. 

You loathe yourself. 

The papers he retrieved from the drawer land on your coffee table with a thud. The bottle of wine is already at your lips as you take a big swig, and then some more. You stare down at the articles and the file, and your eyes turn from sad to dead. You shut them off, all these unwanted emotions, because you fucked up now anyway and everything else is fucked, so shutting it off and focusing on fixing what you can fix is what you would do.

You’re angry, and it’s not just the wine that makes it feel so much stronger. The feeling consumes you. You have a fire inside of you that turns into an inferno and is ready to burn every hurdle in your path to the ground. You never had that before, and it makes you more determined now than ever. 

It’s three in the morning when the cellphone in London rings and tears Maya out of her sleep. 

“Jesus–“ her sleepy voice sounds from the other end. “Do you know what time it is?”

You take another swig of wine, and the bottle is almost empty now. The papers are splattered everywhere. Chaos has ensued around you. You are nowhere near closer to discovering the truth, but at least you’ve found a bottle of tequila and some lime juice. The wine isn’t empty yet, but you’re almost there and then you will focus on the harder stuff.

You thought you would find something, but you’re still empty-handed and angry, and your finger pressed that call button without your permission. 

“Hello?” Maya asks again. She calls your name. “Are you there? Are you alright? You know I have to somehow find a way to hide that 3am call from Dad, right? It’s not funny if you’re not gonna talk to me.” 

“You know,” you finally speak up, your speech slurring, “he said they were on their way to dance rehearsals.”

“What?”

“The M25 was not the way to her dance studio, especially not the turn they took off of it.” 

You kick the picture in front of you aside. You’ve had enough. You should burn them. You should burn him. 

Maya hesitates before she asks, “Are you talking about Ellie?” 

“There were no other cars. He wasn’t speeding. He just stood there with the passenger side toward where the truck was coming from, and…” You trail off.

She says your name again, and this time tears are audible in your little sister’s voice. “Stop,” she begs you. 

“He wanted it to look like an accident by speeding before,” you say, a pained scoff leaving your lips, “but he can’t fool me.”

“You promised–“ Maya cuts off to take a deep breath. “You promised you wouldn’t dig. Why are you digging?” 

You empty the wine bottle with another large gulp. Your features don’t contort. You barely taste the alcohol anymore. It reminds you of water. You grab the tequila next, but it’s hard to open the bottle with one hand. You go for it with your teeth. It works. The taste is more potent, sharper, and more bitter, and it adds to the buzz in your head that makes everything seem less bad.

Oh, but the anger burns brighter than ever because everyone knows what happens when you pour alcohol or gasoline into the fire–the flame is only going to grow, and eventually it’s going to end up out of control. You can’t put it out without putting your life at risk, so you need a firefighter, but with a fire as large as the one inside of you, even a fire truck would come too late. 

The same way they came too late to save your sister.

You swallow. “It should have been me in that fucking car with her,” you say, your voice void of emotions yet so loaded at the same time. “Or with him, and then he could have killed me instead of her, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

You’re so empty, you can feel the tears in your chest, but they won’t fall. You have nothing left to give. You’ve bled out.

Taking a deep breath, you take another sip of liquor. “I’m gonna get you back,” you state as a matter of fact. “It’s what I should have fought harder for in the beginning.”

“By snooping around what happened six years ago?” Maya shoots back. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s gonna be the title of my biography.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Slightly buzzed. Doesn’t fucking matter. He killed her–“ you put the bottle back to your lips, “And he’s gonna suffer for it. You shouldn’t have to stay with him or Mom or anyone else. You belong with me.”

“I know he hurt you–“

“He abused me. He never touched you, but he touched me all the time and I am sick and tired of letting him control me. All of us. I’m gonna tie that accident to him,” you say, “and then I’m gonna watch as he burns. I’m gonna hurt him the same way he hurt me, and then I’m gonna get you back.”

Maya shakes her head against the phone. “He’s going to kill you,” she pleads, trying to somehow emphasize her words, but you’re too drunk and too angry to see clearly. 

You chuckle. “I’d like to see him try.” 

“I don’t want to lose you, why don’t you get that?”

“Oh, I get it. Why do you think I’m doing this? It’s not because I find some perverted enjoyment in reliving all of this shit, I do it because I love you. I’m doing this for you.”

“Please,” she calls out for you, “Think this through! Don’t do it. There has to be another way.”

As you put the bottle of tequila down, your eyes focused on the empty wall before you, and you sigh. “Take care of yourself. We’ll talk soon,” and with that, you hang up on her. 

You turn back to the files on the floor. The message with ‘I just threw up, can’t come to work tomorrow’ is quickly sent to Ava, and then you toss your phone aside. What’s left are you, your liquor, and the papers, and as you stare at the picture of the happy child and her little sister as they’re sitting in the garden together, your fist tightens around the neck of the bottle.

He might think he won, but you’re determined to cut his lucky streak short. He made you suffer twenty years, and you’re going to make sure he gets much more than that. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella #kin amc #charlie cox #x reader #chaos theory

[qvietflight]

I will say that there is something to be said for the seemingly inconsistent (or at least choppy) characterization of the MC. This is actually my first visual novel game, so I just assume that the technical reason is the need to balance all 3 back stories with who theyre trying to portay the MC as...

However, my favourite watsonian reason for this is actually that the MC is a stressed out (ofc!!!) and hungry !!! So far I have seen them eat only twice in the game-- a breadstick and maybe a cookie if you go that route!

Now you do have a bit of beer, which in irl historically, was a general staple drink used because it is yeasty (mildly filling) and for water quality reasons. It had a variable alcohol content between almost no abv to about as much as is standard today. People drank A LOT of it, including children to some degree. I wonder which the writers wanted, given the... mutatative quality of the local water supply (3 eyed fish!)

Either way, even at standard abv, that 1 or less wore off long before we get a view of the senobium. At least theres some extra fuel on top of that 1 breadstick to get the MC through to lunch time, but then what? As a "hell hath no fury like me when Im hungry and mildly inconvenienced" sort of person (runs in the family funnily enough) I dont blame the MC for (possibly) getting a little snippy with Ais and some (potentially) poor judgement calls later!

AND THEN at the end of the day you have the option for another alcoholic drink. That is going RIGHT to your head.

So far, Ive only seen one interaction that seems genuinely out of place as far as the established characterization goes. I cant explain it with either hunger (which must be an underlying constant) or the second alcohol option (anyway its optional.) I havent seen everything yet, but a 1 off isnt too bad.

#tlk to text.exe #touchstarved theory #touchstarved game

[densi-mber]

In Your Darkest Hours, Part 2

A/N: The continuation of yesterday’s story.

***

When Deeks came back 30 minutes later, he looked marginally better, but completely wrung out. He’d thrown on grey sweatpants and an old t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame. Suddenly he looked noticeably thinner to her, and she wondered if he’d been eating regularly.

“Hey, I got some food from that Italian place you like,” she said, feeling unaccountably awkward. She’d felt the same last time, but she’d quickly pushed her discomfort aside in her concern for Deeks.

“I’m not really hungry,” Deeks said, lowering himself onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

“Deeks, you need to eat. Even if you don’t feel like it, you’ll feel better.”

“Fine.” He sighed, accepting a plate of reheated shells and cheese with green beans and a breadstick. Kensi settled opposite him with her own plate.

Since Deeks wasn’t maintaining the conversation like usual, she found herself taking up the mantle and chattering away. She was halfway through a story about the time she ate half a family size bag of skittles, when Deeks made a small noise. It was the softest of sounds, but she stopped talking immediately.

His eyes were closed, jaw clenched so tightly the tendons were visible, brows drawn together in a wince while his fingers curled tightly around a handful of his sweats. He inhaled through his nose, quick little breaths that became increasingly short and uneven. Her heart sank as she recognized the clear signs of an oncoming panic attack.

Shoving her plate to the side, she dropped to her knees in front of him as he fought for control.

“Deeks, it’s ok,” she said, internally hating herself for saying such a stupid thing. Obviously everything was the farthest it could be from ok. “Deeks, do you hear me?” While she spoke, Kensi curled her fingers around his, squeezing lightly.

He nodded once, eyes still closed, and tried to inhale kore deeply.

“That’s good, Deeks. I want you to focus on my hands, ok?” He nodded again, body shaking. “Good. Ok, breathe with me.”

After several minutes, the tension in Deeks’ body slowly eased, and he slumped against the couch. He cracked his eyes open, any lingering energy gone.

“Can I have some water?” he whispered.

“Of course.” Kensi rushed off to get it, returning with a full glass of cool water and pain medication. Deeks accepted both without a word. His hand shook when he took the glass, so Kensi stood close by just in case until he emptied it.

When he was done, she set it to the side, sitting next to him.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I needed a revision on one of my implants,” he explained softly, eyes dull and unfocused. “Because of the—the damage. Sometimes it hurts when I chew and,” his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip. “It puts me right back there.”

“Oh my god, Deeks. I’m so sorry,” Kensi apologized. “If I’d known—”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you,” he interrupted quickly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kensi couldn’t completely hide the the hurt in her voice. She’d thought he trusted her.

“It caught me off-guard.” He lifted one shoulder in a tired shrug. “I thought I could handle it on my own. Besides, it’s not exactly a good look if you’re constantly falling apart.”

“Deeks, we all care more about your well-being than your performance at work,” she said. Deeks gave her a sad, bitter smile.

“I wish that were true. I’m lucky I got to stay this last time,” he mused.

Kensi pushed down her outrage at the revelation; Deeks needed her support now. Confronting whoever had made him hide his symptoms out of fear for his job could wait until later.

“Well, if I have any say in it, you’re not going anywhere. You just need to worry about taking care of yourself.”

“I’m not so great at that,” he murmured.

“That’s why I’m here.” Giving into impulse, Kensi brushed his bangs off his forehead. “Is there anything I can do?”

Deeks turned his head slightly, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I’ve been having more nightmares again.” She could tell how much the admission had taken. “Could you distract me like you did last time?”

“Anything,” she agree immediately. Leaning forward, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table and switched on the TV. “The first step in a Kensi Blye distraction scheme is good garbage television. So, do you want to watch Monster-in-Law or a reruns of the original ‘Dark Shadows’?”

“Uh, second one,” Deeks decided. He pushed himself more deeply into the cushions while she flipped through channels.

“Ooh, it’s the 1890s era. The best ones in my opinion,” she commented.

“Mm, definitely.” She heard the hint of a smile in his voice.

A few minutes later, his head fell to her shoulder. She froze for a second, then when he didn’t move, she rested her cheek against soft curls brushing her skin.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #angst #season 5 era #hurt/comfort #densimber day 4 #by ejzah

[franklyshipping]

Sometimes Heroes Wear Monocles ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Here we have a fabulous prompt from the ever lovely Jameson/Marvin anon! You have been so so patient, so I hope you enjoy! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @jameson-lee-jackson and @jam-lee-jackson ​

Quiet footsteps padded through the manor in the midst of the night, the figure trying to be as quiet as possible. Then that figure slipped into the living room, reached the couch…and flopped onto it face first. Within seconds, Jackie-Boy Man was sound asleep. The septic superhero had been spending nearly every night out on hero duty, keeping people safe, stopping crimes, and generally being an incredible human being. But it was also gruelling and tiring for the poor guy, who now was quietly snoring as he curled up on the couch.

A few moments later, another set of footsteps came through the room. It was Jamie, with a glass of water he’d fetched himself from the kitchen. He was using his phone torch to light his way when he saw the snoring hero. He gave Jackie a fond, warm smile. Everyone knew how hard Jackie had been working, and how exhausted all his efforts made him. Jamie tilted his head down at Jackie, his moustache twitching a little as he thought to himself. Then, his face lit up as he made a decision. Tomorrow, after Jackie had enjoyed ample rest, Jamie was going to treat him to the cheer he deserved. He carefully put a blanket on the hero, and headed up to bed.

The next morning, Jamie got up early to begin his endearing plot of love. First, he made sure everybody knew to keep out of the living room where Jackie was sleeping, so that he could get as much rest as possible. Jamie also took over the nearest kitchen, and set about curating the most delectable buffet of sweet and savoury snacks. He made, from scratch, cheesy breadsticks, little garlic buns, jam donuts, chocolate marshmallows, and his ultimate snack… his famous chocolate chip cookies (Jamie had to whack Anti with a dishcloth to stop him stealing them!). As they reached the middle of the day, Jamie put a little of everything on a tray, along with a nice dark roast cold brew with vanilla milk foam, and brought it to Jackie. He put it carefully on the table beside the couch, and it wasn’t long before the delicious scents woke Jackie up.

‘What the…?’

Jackie mumbled, his eyes going wide at the sight of the amazing spread of food in front of him; for a few moments, he genuinely thought he was still dreaming! Then he spotted Jamie sat across from him, and the young man wiggled his moustache as he signed excitedly.

‘Surprise!’

Jackie let out a laugh as he sat up.

‘Jamie… did… did you make all this for me?!’

Jamie nodded, his eyes sparkling as he signed.

‘Yep! You deserve it, you’ve been working so so much and I wanted to treat you! This is your first surprise.’

Jamie’s reply made Jackie grin, his eyes lighting up like that of an excited child as he replied.

‘This is just one surprise, what’s the second?’

‘You’ll just have to wait and see, now c’mon eat up!’

Jamie signed playfully, making Jackie giggle as he got started on the banquet of goodies Jamie had put together for him. Needless to say, it was clear Jackie needed every last morsel of it. It had been a while since Jackie had been able to dedicate time to even a little treat, so to be able to have something of this scale was just… heaven! He ate every last crumb, and for the first time in ages the hero actually felt like a properly energised human being. He let out a sigh as he flopped on the couch, rubbing his stomach with a grin on his face.

‘Whew, man… you sure know how bake up heaven!’

Jamie beamed, his moustache wriggling.

‘Why thank you!’

‘So, what’s this second surprise?’

He asked, doing a little stretch as he let the baked goods sink into his system as he looked across at Jamie with a curious grin. Jamie grinned back… and then stood up. Jackie’s brows knitted together in confusion as Jamie came over to him slowly. Then Jackie’s eyes widened as Jamie stood over him, raised his hands… and wiggled his fingers at him. Colour flooded the hero’s face as he suddenly realised Jamie’s intentions.

‘Woah woah Jamie wait hold on–AH!’

Jamie jumped on Jackie, interrupting him gleefully as his chest shook with giggles. Then, without hesitation, he slipped his fingers into Jackie’s armpits and tickled them, his blunt nails scratching as the hero’s hollows as he winked down at him.

‘Nononohoho! Wahahahait! C’mahahan, thihihis ihihis mehehean!’

Jackie squealed, and Jamie merely giggled, especially when Jackie dramatically clamped his arms to his sides. This didn’t hinder Jamie one bit, his fingers still deftly wiggling into Jackie’s underarms as he sent him a teasy grin. Jamie’s nails showed no mercy, making the hero writhe and wriggle under Jamie as he exclaimed.

‘Thihihis ihihis hehehero abuhuhuse!’

Jackie’s words made Jamie mock-pout at him, making Jackie let out an indignant noise as he squeaked out his words.

‘Dohohon’t mohohohock mehe-AHH!’

Jackie yelped as Jamie suddenly dragged his scratching fingers down the hero’s ribcage, his eyes gleaming as he watched Jackie snort and kick his feet, now throwing his head back with his laughter.

‘Yohohou’re ehehevil! Ehehehevil mohoustache mahahan!’

Jackie yelped, his words making Jamie gasp as he raised his hands to sign.

‘Don’t you bring my moustache into this!’

As a punishment for Jackie’s insolence, Jamie dug his fingers properly into the hero’s poor ribs. Jackie’s eyes widened at the intensity, letting out howls of giddy laughter as he hurried to babble.

‘AHH! NOHOHO IHIHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHACK! I TAKE IT BACK I TAHAKE IHIHIT BAHACK!’

Jamie grinned, and kept on tickling his ribs. His lean fingers plucked at each of Jackie’s ribs playfully, as if they were cute little string instruments, as Jackie batted at his hands (though, not too strongly). By now Jackie was a mess of cackles and yelps and snorts, a veritable cacophany of boisterous ticklish reactions that Jamie enjoyed listening to. Jamie was certainly dedicated, ensuring that each of Jackie’s sensitive ribs got the exact, precise attention it deserved.

‘Coochie coochie coo!’

Jamie raised his hands for a mere moment to sign, before continuing the rib tickling with delight. Jackie’s face went red as the ticklish feelings surged under his skin; he was desperately wishing he hadn’t slept in his spandex suit, which just made the sensations so much worse!

‘OHOHOHO GAHAHAD NOHOHO!’

Jamie giggled warmly at all of Jackie’s reactions, thinking that they were just beyond adorable! After a few more moments he eased up on Jackie’s ribs, leaving the hero panting and giggling as he gazed up at Jamie.

‘Oh gohod, ahahare yohou dohohone?’

‘Not quite yet.’

Jamie signed in response, along with a wink. Then he teasingly wiggled his fingers above Jackie’s tummy, making the hero squeak and instantly hide his face in his hands.

‘Nononono not there!’

Jamie grinned, his face bright with fond teasing.

‘Oh yes there!’

Jamie signed, before his fingers descended to their fresh tickly task. He only used his fingertips against Jackie’s tummy, giving the hero the most teasy, fluttery tickles known to man… aka, a technique that was Jackie’s most endearing tickly weakness. The gentleness and teasing were almost unbearable! Jackie’s face was beet red beneath his hands, and he couldn’t stop kicking his feet as he giggled and babbled.

‘Ihihit’s nahahat fahahair ihit’s nahahat fahair!’

Jamie adored watching Jackie hiding his face, he thought it was so cute how he was flustered merely from the softest tickles at his tummy! Jamie curled and uncurled his fingers slowly, making Jackie let out a loud, embarrassed whine.

‘Plehehehease! Yohohou knohohow Ihihi cahahan’t!’

Jackie peeked through his fingers as Jamie pulled a mock-innocent expression, his eyes shining as he signed.

‘Can’t what?’

He continued the evil, gentle tickling as Jackie whined even louder, his feet now kicking the couch as his voice got even more high-pitched.

‘Ihihi cahan’t tahahake thihihis!’

Jamie let out a soft, playful gasp.

‘Oh, am I being too rough? I can be gentler for you!’

He signed… and then Jackie squealed when Jamie somehow lightened his tickly touch even more. Now, Jamie’s stroking and fluttering were practically featherlight, which was even more tickly for the poor hero!

‘Ohohoho my gohohohod!’

Jackie soon descended into a stream of purely incoherent giggling and rambling as Jamie treated his tummy to the softest tickles for minute after minute. His fingers swirled over his waist, the little pudge under his navel, the sides of his tummy, the centre, all of it. No part of Jackie’s tummy was left un-teased. When Jamie was satisfied that he’d flustered the hero into the happiest and most blissful oblivion, he then had mercy on him. Jackie ended up consumed by giggles for another two minutes before he was able to catch his breath. When he slowly revealed his face he was completely crimson, practically matching his suit. His eyes glimmered as he gazed up at Jamie, his brain racing with a million giddy thoughts… but there was only one thing he wanted to say.

‘…thank you.’

Jackie’s whisper made Jamie beam. Indeed, there was nothing else that needed to be said. Jackie melted as Jamie gave him the warmest hug imaginable, both of them relishing in the happy snugness. As he hugged the hero, Jamie could feel the joy in him, the relaxation… and for once, a real sense of relief too. They cuddled and cuddled for what seemed like forever, only moving to get more snacks or slip in a movie. It was bliss. Truly, the most well-deserved bliss.

AHHH HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC, LEMME KNOW IF YA DID! WOOO LUV YOUS!!

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jameson jackson #jamie #jackie-boy man #jackie #sfw #prompt #platonic #ego fic #ego fanfic #tword fic #tword fanfic #tword #twords #twording #twordish #luv these bois

[autistpride]

Hi.. I hope you don't mind a bit of a long ask. So I've seen from your posts that you have autism, and I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something. More recently I've been questioning if I might have autism myself, but I'm really unsure about it and my family seems pretty adamant that I don't. The main reason that they think I don't is because they're used to stereotypes, and they don't think I could have it because I understand and use a lot of sarcasm, even though I've told them that it's a spectrum and everyone is different. Of course I know that your opinion won't make up for an official diagnosis, but as of now I'm too embarrassed to even mention that I MIGHT have it, because if I'm wrong I'll feel like one of those people who fakes disorders or something. So, if you're willing to listen, I was going to list out some of the traits that I've been called 'weird' or 'alien' over, and see if maybe you think they could possibly mean autism? I hope that's okay with you 😅

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•Speaking of those foods, I always eat them in the exact same order. The burger, then the fries, then the nuggets. The breadsticks, then the fish, then the shrimp, y'know? I don't know when or why I started doing this, I've just sort of always done it.

•I have a huge problem staying still, something that I get very self conscious about in public. I'm always tapping my feet, rocking back and forth, clicking something in my hands, chewing on water bottle caps, and just generally refusing to sit in one spot. I also love to pace when I'm trying to formulate ideas, as I feel it really helps me think.

•I can't stand wearing jeans. I mean I won't go crazy if I have to, but they always make me feel restricted. I thought for a while that it was just how restricting they were, but I've found that other tight pants don't make me feel the same way?

•I DESPISE nail files. I can't explain it, but just the sensation of that sandpaper-like stuff rubbing against my nails activates my fight or flight response, I just feel like bolting it gives me bad goosebumps all over.

•I hyperfixate on stuff hard, I pick things up quick but also drop them hard. Recently I picked up DC/Batfam as a hyperfixation and I've been fully leaning into it ever since, spending pretty much all of my time making art or stories about it (Or at the very least thinking about the characters in some way). However back a few years ago I was hyperfixated on Markiplier Egos, and then one day I just.. Dropped it out of nowhere, and haven't been able to pick it back up since.

•This one's really iffy but I feel like I get irritated a lot super super easily, and I used to think it was just anger issues but for one: It's almost never something to get upset about, and for two: It usually happens when I've been talking to someone for a little too long or when someone interrupts my quiet time. So if we're going with the whole maybe autism thing, it might be overstimulation..? Idk..

•I'm super light sensitive, pretty much every time I go outside I say 'Wow it's bright out there" when I come back in. It's so noticeable that I used to not only notice, but attribute it to an eye injury I had once. Except that injury wasn't serious and is fully healed, so that's probably not it.

•I have a lot of trouble speaking sometimes. I feel like my words never come out the way that I want them to, and I often end up slurring them around so much that what I'm trying to say becomes pretty much incomprehensible, which always makes me frustrated because I get misunderstood a lot.

•I don't really understand what other people are feeling most of the time, and I get annoyed when they won't just tell me what they want instead of vaguely hinting about it and expecting me to know what they need.

•I'm always being told to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable volume.

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

But yeah, those are just some of the thing that I've been jokingly called 'strange' for over the years. Like I said earlier, I know that your opinion is nothing like an actual diagnosis, but hearing your thoughts on whether or not I might have it would mean a lot to me since you're someone who's been diagnosed!

Hi annon!

Let me preface this by saying I'm so proud of you for really taking the time to think about all this and dig into your life and behaviors.

Then to ask someone about it is very brave!

I wish there was a way to reply without showing your entire ask message. I feel terrible sharing your private thoughts with everyone.

I'm not a professional so I don't feel qualified to say yes or no. And as much as I want to give you some reassurance, I can't give you something definite. Especially when I don't know you in order to form a proper opinion.

Yes many of those things are things that indicate you could be autistic.

There is a lot of overlap and they could be things related to other Neurodivergent diagnosis such as ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc and not just autism.

However, I will say if you're even questioning if you're autistic it's a pretty good chance you're autistic or some kind of Neurodivergent. Most neurotypical people often don't think this hard on if they could be autistic or not. 😉

You have put a lot of thought into this and my suggestion is to keep researching and doing what you're doing. Keeping notes also if you'd like. Why?

Because....

1. Keeping notes and continuing research allows you to have a record of everything.

2. The notes would also come in handy for if you ever seek an assessment.

3. With more time, you will become more self aware and confident in your thoughts on what you believe about if you're autistic. You can then sit down with your family and explain why you think you're autistic.

4. If the comes a time you'd like to try an assessment, you can talk to a gp or therapist if you have one and have them place the appropriate things for you to have that done. Your family needn't be part of the process if you're of legal age. But you may need adult permission for the evaluation if you are considered a minor.

5. Self diagnosis is valid in the autism community. Its valid because a diagnosis is very challenging for many to obtain, and in some situations dangerous.

This doesn't mean someone just wakes up one morning and says "oh I think I'm autistic today". No. They have done hours and hours of research and evaluated their own life, mannerisms, and behaviors, and said "I really think I'm autistic."

Self diagnosised individuals get the benefit of knowing themselves and finding support in the community without ever getting access to supports any official way. They can't get school/work accomodations, financial assistance, medical/mental health services, or really any supports put in place that require an official diagnosis to obtain.

Some would claim self diagnosis isn't valid due to exactly what you pointed out, making a claim of a diagnosis without qualifications and due to the huge overlap and other factors, but the wait times, cost, and unfortunately things like race and gender are barriers to obtaining an assessment and diagnosis. I know in the UK the current NHS wait time is 7-10 years unless you go private. I know in the US getting an assessment as an adult is challenging as most professionals won't evaluate people over 18 and the cost is upwards to $7k depending on location because most insurances won't cover it.

You are always welcome to continue messaging me. I'm happy to answer any questions and I honestly enjoy talking to people when I can.

And in case no one's told you

You're not broken, a burden, and there is nothing wrong with you!

Be your best and amazing self! ✨

#my asks

[writingmaidenwarrior]

15 Tag Questions, OC Edition

I was tagged by @sam-glade

Let's go.

You find Mika at a small family run Italian restaurant, already chewing on some breadsticks and with a coffee in front of her. Her asymmetric black hair frames her small, round face in a way it gives her a rebellious look. Her gaze finds you, and you got hit by a professional smile.

Are you named after anyone? Not that I am aware of this, on the other side my mother never spoke much of my relatives. I know her mother died when I was too young to remember, and I never met my dad or his side of the family until recently.

2. When was the last time you cried? Couple of weeks ago when I met my grandma on my father's side and my lil half sis.

3. Do you have kids? Nope, and so far I don't plan to.

4. Do you use sarcasm? Depends on the stupidity of the person in front of me. Some people deserve it.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? The way they smile and what their eyes tell. Guess it's some sort of job disease. As a bartender, you learn to read people because it is sometimes better to refuse someone their drink and make them have some damn water.

6. What's your eye colour? Green

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Phew, depends on my mood and what kind of happy endings? I don't like those sappy ones, but if things take a turn for the better in the end, it can be nice.

8. Any special talents? I would say I am a survival specialist in this stupid world. I know how to stay afloat.

9. Where were you born? My birth certificate and my ID say two different things, I am still trying to solve this mystery.

10. What are your hobbies? Believe it or not, I like to do brain stuff like chess or sudoku. Besides this, I need to be active. Jogging, swimming, whatever it is, I am in.

11. Have you any pets? Nope, but I always wanted a dog.

12. What sports do you play/have you played? I always wanted to play volleyball, but since we moved a lot when I was a kid, it never happened, and today I am too busy with my job.

13. How tall are you? 5'4 / 1,66m

14. Favourite subject in school? Biology and chemistry

15. Dream job? Veterinarian

I tag @captain-kraken @druidx @sunset-a-story

#writblr #15 question tag #moon daughter wip #wynne talks

[fatedwithmbc]

I should be celebrating a mostly good oncology appointment from this past Friday- but this nemesis of mine just finds ways to zap the joys (even tiny ones) out me.

The remainder of Friday was fine- I slept and that feels like my only release. After having a nap, I decided I wanted Dominos breadsticks, not the best thing to eat but I was feeling nauseous and bread always seems safe to me. I filled the bird feeder, said hello to my neighbor, sat with my feet in the grass in the back yard for a bit and talked to my Mom-Mom about the possibility of going out to Colorado. That’s about as much as I could muster for the day. So, it was back to my room, watching mindless TV until I had to take my meds. I’ve been putting them in applesauce due to the dysphagia and that’s been working. I then laid in bed until sleep found me or I found it- I’m not sure anymore.

Saturday I helped Mom-Mom put the wind chimes on the back porch. It’s truly “summer” now when the chimes make their reappearance. I watered the plants out front and the tomato plants out back. I also went to stand under the bird house to see if a new brood had started yet, but it was quiet. I was disappointed. But, I know there will be a new one eventually. Bailey and I sat in the grass again, but she doesn’t tolerate it for too long- so we were back inside shortly after she got up. I went to take a nap as I was truly wiped by that level of activity. I should have gone to the neighbors (our families have been friends since the 1950’s), but socializing wasn’t on the agenda for me. They had a graduation party for their son, Sean. Selfishly, I wanted to dodge the cancer questions. It was easier to stay home. Brian called and invited me to Father’s Day dinner with him and Terry next weekend. Which was so touching. I really think he is the best god father my Dad could of chosen for me. I was glad he called because I forgot to call him after my appointment on Friday. So, I was able to update him. I then took a nap until my Mom-Mom woke me up about 5pm and I grilled burgers for dinner. I was feeling off- like really off. I went upstairs to rest and lo and behold, my vomiting came back.

Sunday was a waste of a day. I slept all day. No eating, minimal drinking. I am still feeling nauseous and sick. I made myself take my meds and am praying they stay down. And now fear I’ll be awake all night because I have spent all day sleeping. My Mom-Mom woke me up at 11pm to check on me and I am glad she did because I didn’t sleep through taking my meds. I missed phone calls and messages while I was sleeping all day and I think some people get nervous when I don’t respond. But I’ll respond when I see the messages or the next day.

The only big bright spot in the weekend was that I finally got the courage to reach out to Brittany. We chatted for quite a bit Saturday night and I’m just glad that I will have someone to talk to who will understand the up’s and down’s of this cancer journey. I felt validated during our conversation and it was refreshing. I hope our friendship continues to grow. It sounds so silly to say I have a cancer friend- but it’s such a big deal. We’re very close in age if not the same- and we were just able to connect so much. I feel like this was the best part of my weekend.

Now, I’ll try to find sleep again. And hope it comes. I don’t need to be awake all night.

#fated with mbc #confessions of a cancer patient #stage iv deserves more #metastatic breast cancer #stage iv metastatic breast cancer #breast cancer

[myrandomautistichouse]

Hi.. I hope you don't mind a bit of a long ask. So I've seen from your posts that you have autism, and I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something. More recently I've been questioning if I might have autism myself, but I'm really unsure about it and my family seems pretty adamant that I don't. The main reason that they think I don't is because they're used to stereotypes, and they don't think I could have it because I understand and use a lot of sarcasm, even though I've told them that it's a spectrum and everyone is different. Of course I know that your opinion won't make up for an official diagnosis, but as of now I'm too embarrassed to even mention that I MIGHT have it, because if I'm wrong I'll feel like one of those people who fakes disorders or something. So, if you're willing to listen, I was going to list out some of the traits that I've been called 'weird' or 'alien' over, and see if maybe you think they could possibly mean autism? I hope that's okay with you 😅

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•Speaking of those foods, I always eat them in the exact same order. The burger, then the fries, then the nuggets. The breadsticks, then the fish, then the shrimp, y'know? I don't know when or why I started doing this, I've just sort of always done it.

•I have a huge problem staying still, something that I get very self conscious about in public. I'm always tapping my feet, rocking back and forth, clicking something in my hands, chewing on water bottle caps, and just generally refusing to sit in one spot. I also love to pace when I'm trying to formulate ideas, as I feel it really helps me think.

•I can't stand wearing jeans. I mean I won't go crazy if I have to, but they always make me feel restricted. I thought for a while that it was just how restricting they were, but I've found that other tight pants don't make me feel the same way?

•I DESPISE nail files. I can't explain it, but just the sensation of that sandpaper-like stuff rubbing against my nails activates my fight or flight response, I just feel like bolting it gives me bad goosebumps all over.

•I hyperfixate on stuff hard, I pick things up quick but also drop them hard. Recently I picked up DC/Batfam as a hyperfixation and I've been fully leaning into it ever since, spending pretty much all of my time making art or stories about it (Or at the very least thinking about the characters in some way). However back a few years ago I was hyperfixated on Markiplier Egos, and then one day I just.. Dropped it out of nowhere, and haven't been able to pick it back up since.

•This one's really iffy but I feel like I get irritated a lot super super easily, and I used to think it was just anger issues but for one: It's almost never something to get upset about, and for two: It usually happens when I've been talking to someone for a little too long or when someone interrupts my quiet time. So if we're going with the whole maybe autism thing, it might be overstimulation..? Idk..

•I'm super light sensitive, pretty much every time I go outside I say 'Wow it's bright out there" when I come back in. It's so noticeable that I used to not only notice, but attribute it to an eye injury I had once. Except that injury wasn't serious and is fully healed, so that's probably not it.

•I have a lot of trouble speaking sometimes. I feel like my words never come out the way that I want them to, and I often end up slurring them around so much that what I'm trying to say becomes pretty much incomprehensible, which always makes me frustrated because I get misunderstood a lot.

•I don't really understand what other people are feeling most of the time, and I get annoyed when they won't just tell me what they want instead of vaguely hinting about it and expecting me to know what they need.

•People always tell me to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable level.

•The last time I got told suddenly I was going to have to go on a trip, I cried so hard that they just cancelled it lmao

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

But yeah, those are just some of the thing that I've been jokingly called 'strange' for over the years. Like I said earlier, I know that your opinion is nothing like an actual diagnosis, but hearing your thoughts on whether or not I might have it would mean a lot to me since you're someone who's been diagnosed!

First thank you for the ask.

So when I read your list, I see that you can be autistic. I don't like certain fabrics. I can also be quickly irritated by people.

There are some that can be both for autisic people and ADHD.

When it comes to words. When I have a hard time speaking, I'm either tired. Or I'm having an emotional start of a bad day

When I read the list. I think you are autisic. If you want a diagnosis, find one who listens to you. Getting one is hard. I was lucky with my parents and a good doctor

Also, I don't mind the long text. You can always ask me stuff .

#myrandomautistichouse #ask annon #thanks for the ask

[postwarlevi]

Hi Eliza 💜

I hope you're doing well!!

3 & 16 for the F/O ask game please!

Enjoy your day off 💜

Hello!! It's all good, thought I'd be a bit more productive today haha that's okay. Hope you're well!

3 What was your first date like?

So, in my main au, Jean and I meet and keep meeting every Sunday at the grocery store. He bets I don't eat unhealthy and I tell him to put a large cheese pizza in front of me so he says "I know of an Italian place we could go together if you want" and that leads to out first date! We meet at the restaurant and are both dressed kind of nice and maybe a bit nervous and get breadsticks, soup, water, pasta and later dessert. Jean pays attention and anytime my water runs low or we need more breadsticks he calls the waiter over. We talk and relax pretty quick and he's very attentive to what I was saying even if I feel like I'm rambling but he doesn't make it seem that way. We keep it mainly casual then over dessert open up a bit more and it's clear we are getting along quite well. I don't argue when he wants to pay. On the way to walking me to my car he asks if we can meet again outside the grocery store and I of course say yes and we share a very tiny intimate moment :D

16 What was your worst date like?

answered here

So, I will say another we just didn't enjoy was going out with my coworkers to bar karaoke which I didn't even want to go but when I told Jean he said he would come cause it sounded fun, and it wasn't. Coworkers were partying way more than I was comfortable with and one tried hitting on Jean even and it didn't take long for him to make an excuse for us to get out of there. We never got to karaoke and he helped me decompress with drive thru shakes and fries and joking about what song we should have sang. This guy really knows how to take care of me. Also we have since hung out with the same people in a completely different setting and it was fine LOL.

Self ship asks

#ask game answers #self ship #self ship ask game #jeliza #jean x eliza

[haley-writes]

Sooo I started writing an Eddie Munson fic..

I'm not too good at writing but I had thus concept stuck in my head and I just needed to write it out. I've posted it to wattpad, my user is @haley-writes if anyone wants to take a gander at it. If you do, please leave a comment, and if you have suggestions or any advice please don't hesitate to let me know! I just ask that you be kind to me and anyone else who comments 💜

I'll post the first chapter here, let me know if you'd like to see more!

the dungeon master's angel

chapter 1

"Rosie! El! Guess what!?" Joyce Byers called out to her foster daughters, excited to finally give them some good news for once. El dragged her sister out of their bedroom and bounded down the little hallway of the house, "What is it? Is Mike here?"  El asked, looking at her with a grin. "No, he's not here, but you'll see him Monday... At school! You're enrolled in high school!". The girls shrieked with joy. They had been stuck inside the Byers residence for far too long. Joyce had finally gotten the 'okay' from Dr. Owens to let them live normal lives.

"Hopper would be so happy," Joyce thought to herself as she watched them jump around and giggle. Her eyes watered as she remembered what he'd done. He saved Hawkins and was rewarded with death. She was broken away from her thoughts as she realized Rosie was talking to her, "Can we buy some fabric Joyce? I want to make an outfit for the first day!" Joyce nodded her head fondly, wiped her tears, and grabbed the keys. "You're right. We have lots to buy before your first day! Maybe we can pick up some pizza for dinner, too."

Later that day...

Jonathan and Will were sitting at the dinner table, waiting on their mother and sisters to get home. "What's taking them so long? I'm starving." Will complained while banging his head on the table. "Mom said they'd be home at five o'clock, its only five minutes past be patient man." Jonathan rolled his eyes. Will had been acting different lately, more irritable and whiny, which was a complete 180° from his usual sweet and understanding self. "Maybe he's just nervous about school," Jonathan thought, but his thoughts cut off when he heard the roar of his mom's car approaching the house. "See, told you they'd show up soon." He chuffed to his brother.

Rosie and El burst through the front door, and Jonathan prepared himself for the inevitable loud voices of his sisters. Rosie ran up to him and shoved a bag in his hands. "Look, J! Joyce bought me the pretty fabric I wanted." Opening the bag, he saw sheer green fabric. "Wow, Rosie, this is beautiful. Are you gonna make something for school with this? Do you want my help?" She grinned and nodded, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. "Alright, we'll get started after dinner. If we don't eat soon, I think Will is gonna implode."

The Byers and the Hopper girls sat around the table, munching on pizza and breadsticks. Joyce called the table to silence and said, "Okay, we need to talk about a few things before you start school. In the words of Hopper, we need a few ground rules." A small smile appeared on the girls' faces as they were reminded of their Dad's antics. "I want you to know that I'm only asking this of you to be safe. I don't want anything to happen to you, okay?" Everyone nodded, Joyce continued, "Number one, Jonathan will drive you to and from school. Make sure you have everyone before coming home, okay?" Jonathan nodded, "I promise Mom." Joyce smiled at him, "Thank you, okay number two, girls. If anyone asks where you came from, tell them you transferred from a private school in California. If they ask how you wound up with me, you tell them you're my nieces. You say your mother passed away, and you were sent to live with us. Lastly, no using your powers whatsoever." She gave a look to El, knowing she was a sucker for using her powers to defend her friends, especially Mike. El sighed and nodded.

"Okay enough with the heavy talk. Are you guys excited? Will you're gonna be a freshman! You're all grown up." Will, with a blank look, shrugged his shoulders and said,"I guess." Joyce gave him an exasperated look and glanced over to Jonathan, who shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, "I don't know."

Dinner wrapped up, and Rosie practically yanked Jonathan out of his seat and dragged him to hers and Els room. Soon after moving in with Hopper, Rosie found an old sewing kit in the cabin and would play around with it. Hopper had given her some old clothes and let her cut them up and make something new from the scraps. Of course, in the beginning, her creations were not considered good. After seeing how much she enjoyed making clothes, Hopper bought her some fabric and sewing patterns. With practice, she became pretty good.

Jonathan doesn't know much about sewing, but he would do anything for Rosie and El. And if that meant taking measurements or cutting fabric or helping Rosie get the thread through the tiny ass needle, he'd do it in a heartbeat. When Rosie and El first moved in, they were timid and uncomfortable. Granted, their foster father had just been ripped away from them, and they'd been tracked down by a massive monster made out of human body parts and rats. They were traumatized, but El, being the strongest of the two, had been doing a bit better than Rosie. Mainly because she had Mike to lean on, but Rosie had always kept to herself and only depended on her sister and Hopper. With one of them gone and the other only focused on her boyfriend, she felt alone. So Jonathan put on his big brother pants and made sure she knew she could come to him for help.

That's how he wound up here, cutting out the sheer green fabric along the lines of the pattern. With Huey Lewis and the news playing in the background, Rosie was in her element. Flitting around the room, looking for ribbons and accents to add to her dress. El was lounging on the top bunk of their bed reading a Wonder Woman comic.

"Rosie, Max asked me if we want to go to the arcade with her tomorrow. Do you want to go?" El asked. Rosie tossed the idea around in her head. She did miss Max, but if she went, the chances of Billy being there were pretty high.

Earlier that summer, Billy had been possessed by the Mind Flayer, making him terrifying and dangerous. He tried to hurt her sister several times. She can still remember the sound of El's screams as he dragged her by the hair across the locker room floor.

She remembers the way he pinned El down in the mall, with his hands around her neck. She shivered as the nightmare decended upon her. She ended up saving his life shortly after the monster stabbed him through the back. The only reason she did it is because of Max. No matter what Billy had done, Max didn't deserve to lose her stepbrother.

As Billy lay there quickly bleeding out, Rosie ran from behind the banister she'd been hiding behind. She shoved Max away from Billy and hovered her hands over his wound. The blinding yellow light of her healing powers covered his torso, as she made his pain disappear. He gazed up at her, thinking he was already dead. He whispered, "it's an angel." While she was healing him, the Monster crumpled. Whatever Joyce, Hopper, and Murray had done worked. Billy was completely healed soon after, and Rosie collapsed.

Rosie hadn't talked to Billy since, only seeing him in passing while dropping Max off at the Byers or the arcade. But every time she saw him, the horrific memories came rushing back. He seemed better, though. He didn't shout at Max when she got out of his car, instead waving at her with a smile.

"I guess, how are we getting there?" Rosie questioned, coming back to reality.

"Jonathan, can you drop us off?" El asked with a sweet smile on her face. Jonathan shook his head, "sorry girls, I'm hanging out with Nancy tomorrow. Why don't you ask if Billy can pick you up?"

Rosie panicked, "Uh, no, let's ask Joyce."

Jonathan gave her a comforting look, "I know you're still afraid of him, but Max says he's better now. I've even talked to him. He's not like he used to be Rosie. You're going to have to talk to him eventually. He goes to Hawkins High, and you'll see him all the time there. Just ask Max, okay? If anything goes wrong, you have El."

Rosie shook her head, "I'm not ready. Just go without me, El. I'm sorry."

She went back to her sewing, lost in the music and pretty fabric.

Authors Note:

And that's chapter one! I hope its not too cringe 😬 please let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions at all. Also, please be kind 💜

See you in the next chapter!

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things #max stranger things #lucas stranger things #dustin stranger things #will stranger things #jonathan stranger things #eleven stranger things