#just the secret sauce dude

[cmiketbh]

die

i’ve been trying

#itxt #secret sauce #it’s the secret sauce #just the secret sauce dude #relax that’s my secret sauce

[xoxoladyaz]

Deep down, Steve knows that it's only a matter of time until he gets caught.

It feels like he's gone through the five stages of grief, like, twenty times. He can't count how many hours he's spent rationalizing it: what Eddie doesn't know won't hurt him, this is normal, people do it all the time, and besides, Eddie would feel completely betrayed if he knew and their relationship is so new that it's just not worth the risk. The absolute last thing he wants is to upset Eddie and this will just make him upset so really, Steve is doing the honorable thing by just not telling him, by pretending that he's not hiding anything, that everything is fine.

But it's not Eddie that catches him; hell, it isn't even someone in the Party; it's Jeff, Eddie's friend/Hellfire Club member/Corroded Coffin bandmate who shows up too early for D&D at Steve's one day and sees something he shouldn't have.

"This isn't what it looks like."

Jeff walks into the kitchen and frowns, like he's confused by what he's seeing and why Steve is so anxious, why he's sweating like he's just run a marathon. "It looks like you're blending a bunch of veggies together in a blender."

Shit. "Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

Jeff still looks confused. "And this is a big deal because - "

"Because I haven't told Eddie that the 'special pasta sauce' that I've been using the last three months whenever we have spaghetti and meatballs is actually entirely made of, like, ten different kinds of vegetables," Steve rushes out, and Jeff's face smoothes in understanding.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. The dude has a weird vendetta against veggies."

Steve groans, slumping in relief. "Tell me about it. Do you know how hard it is to hide veggies in every single meal that I make for him? Because if I don't, then he's never going to eat them, and I'm worried about his health enough as it is."

Jeff nods. "It's the smoking, right?"

"The smoking, and the drinking, and I know he's sneaking out to smoke with Jon and Argyle, but he doesn't exercise and he only eats highly processed cereal with loads of sugar and I just don't want him to have a heart attack before the age of forty!"

"Hey, hey, Steve, man, your secret's safe with me." Jeff holds his hands up in supplication. "And for the record, I'm on your side. The dude is like a feral raccoon."

"I know," Steve sighs. "But he's my feral raccoon."

That makes Jeff start laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom and I have been doing the same thing for years now. If you want, we could exchange recipes sometime."

"Really?" Steve perks up and now, now he's excited. "That would be great!"

"Sick. Need some help with the meatballs?"

"Please!"

And that is how Eddie and Gareth and Phil and Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica and Will find them later, chatting and laughing while Steve tosses his homemade noodles into his now-simmering pasta sauce, Jeff sitting on the kitchen island and drinking a beer.

This time, it's Jeff who looks like he's seen a ghost. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh?" Eddie asks, and his voice is totally controlled, which means that Jeff is screwed. "So you're not hanging out with my boyfriend and making him do that cute little blushy giggle that is my cute blushy giggle?"

"Eddie!" Steve scolds, but it's too late, Jeff knows his fate is sealed.

"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

(Jeff's rogue is caught in the blast zone when Dustin's ranger kills a large acid toad. Still, he can't feel too mad when he sees Eddie smirk and then lick the veggie sauce out of his pasta bowl.)

#Eddie isn't jealous #okay Eddie might be jealous #okay Eddie might always be jealous of anyone who isn't him who has Steve's attention #Steve is too besotted to notice #and so begins the one-sided war between Eddie and Jeff #Gareth is definitely just here to make things worse #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #Eddie Munson vs veggies #Eddie might be a feral raccoon but he's Steve's feral raccoon

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients. 

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously.  “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes.  Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind.  He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk.  “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving.  And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends.  Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes.  “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her.  Christ, she was relentless.  Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends.  That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair.  She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret?  I need to know all the facts first.  Especially if I have to keep it from my brother.  And Steve.  And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose.  She was right.  Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly.  “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention.  And truth be told?  Harrington needs a break.  So does my niece.  And your friends?  They need some time with mom and dad.  You do, too.  But right now?  You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them.  And quite frankly?  I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them.  Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding.  She pursed her lips, considering this.  Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.  Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him.  Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams.  There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast.  She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe. 

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve. 

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up. 

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world. 

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom. 

Hopper and Murray were out of the question. 

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it. 

And Argyle?  Well, he’d said about as much as he could say.  Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.  

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket.  Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly.  “It’s uhh, yeah.  Plagued at this point.  Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk.  “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, Vecna.  Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see.  She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything.  After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it.  And the way she and Robin had started off?  Not great.  Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck.  Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house.  But they weren’t exactly best friends.  Friends for sure.  But not like Nancy and Barb had been.  Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused.  “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there.  Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained.  “You two were thick as thieves.  She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness.  “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled.  “Always.  Saved them on little flashcards and everything.  She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’  Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that.  She shook her head, grinning widely.  “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip.  Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time.  As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted.  “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly.  “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.  

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky.  “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know?  Not just to tell her how sorry I am.  For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off.  Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook.  “So many questions, like…like the way we used to.  As best friends.  About — everything.  Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know.  Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter.  Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state.  Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington.  Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant.  The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life.  However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.  

Barb had been that for Nancy.  But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked.  She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip.  “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to.  Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant.  She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together.  It just…just...worked.  Clicked, made sense.  Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real.  Really real.  Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy.  But I didn’t really.  Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for.  Ever.  Not once.  He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him.  Not the other way around.  All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight.  But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept.  And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly.  “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone.  And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was.  The way that I still am.  But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”  

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it.  H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him.  Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.  

Robin knew she meant Barb.  She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry.  For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone.  All the time.  And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside.  Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice.  “He loves her, and s-she loves him back.  S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him.  And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…?  Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with?  I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her.  “It’s not selfish.  It’s human.  Steve is amazing.  But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now.  She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes.  They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset.  “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it.  “You’re right, I did.  We did.  Me and Eddie.  But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically.  Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers.  “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey.  You had each other.  Steve?  Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman.  Because back then, he didn’t know yet.  He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly.  “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly.  “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once.  Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do.  On his own.  Dustin was the first to reach out to him.  Well, he basically forced himself on Steve.  And Steve needed that.  He’s an only child.  He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him.  You have Mike.  Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued.  “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults.  He got left behind to watch the kids with her.  They went through…a lot of shit that night.  You did, too.  But so did they.  They fought off Billy Hargrove.  They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels.  They survived the night together.  You know what that feels like.  You and Jonathan bonded that way.  Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing.  Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids.  And that was great.  Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth.  Like, some sort of femme tomboy.  Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way.  At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze.  “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright?  You know you’re beautiful.  You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years.  That’s not even a question.”  

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.  

“...but Steve had to move on.  Or…find ways to convince himself that he could.  And Bauman?  She was there for that.  She was around, during all his growth.  And trust me – it was ugly.  You have nothing to envy there.  God, the way that they argued?  The way Steve talked to her, honestly?  Honestly.  You would’ve slapped him.  I sure as hell did a few times.  Mostly verbal slapping.  But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie.  You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth.  You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it.  She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now.  And she owned up to her shit, too.  It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault.  But hey, she took the hits.  Many times.  And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over.  Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture.  Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it.  But still, they got through shit together.  They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians?  She and Steve honestly kept me so sane.  And they kept us safe, too.  Me, Dustin and Erica.  They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world?  They did.  They didn’t even think twice.  Steve grew into a way better person because of her.  And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids.  She didn’t grow up with siblings either.  That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression.  Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot.  But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone.  Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it.  Shit, we didn’t know it either.  That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray.  Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed.  “I know that.”

“Of course you do.  We all do.  He does, too.  Especially now.  Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that.  She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast.  “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him.  Or him.  I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up.  Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her.  “Because who he was then, is not who he is now.  And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised.  “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently.  “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive.  “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused.  “But…what about after he got back?  What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.  She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started.  “...we just…moved past it.  We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly.  “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped.  “I’m so sick of it.  I always have to push him to tell me things.  He just — shuts me out.  Clams up, retreats.  He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods.  “That’s definitely on him.  But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.  

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers.  “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens.  “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles.  “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.  

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair.  “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did.  That he would.  That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms.  They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle.  Nancy has said enough for now.  It would all unravel itself more over time. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.  

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica.  They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.  

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying.  She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier.  Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin.  He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool.  “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected.  She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while.  It terrified him, making his anxiety spike.  Had he lost her?  Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table.  Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable.  So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water.  Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in.  Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle. 

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin. 

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously. 

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone.  Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that.  Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden.  Out of sight.  Quiet.  On high alert.  It’s a gamble.  Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread.  He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there.  And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold. 

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering. 

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against.  We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there.  Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look.  They knew this wasn’t going to go well.  At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick.  This also meant leaving Will behind.  “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly.  “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time.  El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back.  She can’t.  I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes.  “But as far as the rest of you kids go?  No more.  It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here.  But if this is how it’s gotta go down?  You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense. 

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just��really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit.  He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low.  “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce.  And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side.  Those kids are going to raise hell.  All of them are.  And this plan is not changing.  It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot.  Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is.  Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table.  “I’m counting on you.  I know that’s not fair, but I am.  You’re tough as nails.  You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends.  Your friends.  You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him.  I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it.  Whatever you have to say?  Say it.  And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me.  Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression.  But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said.  “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence.  Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us.  She can’t be now.  And Steve cannot hang back.  He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle.  And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it.  She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce.  “Tell me.  If she tries pulling a fast one?  You tell me.  Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.  Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son.  “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically.  “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms.  “We’ll have to be scarce about it.  Selective.  Nowhere is safe.  It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety.  Leaving you behind?  The kids?  Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you.  He was an extension of you.  The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked?  Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?  

Was there actually an end to this nightmare?  A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe.  Yes.  Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing.  It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered.  Every little girl does.  In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination.  The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want.  The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after.  The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl.  How could you not?  It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much.  You’d been made to grow up from a very young age.  Your grandmother had been there for you enough.  She kept a roof over your head.  Food on the table.  A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work.  You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely.  You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so.  She was gone a lot.  She wasn’t very old.  Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time.  A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant."  You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it.  She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support.  Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted.  You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city.  It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife.  It was cool, for the most part.  But it definitely meant being able to hold your own.  She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far.  He was home a lot.  Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much.  He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that.  It meant consistency.  His spare room basically became your room.  It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over.  You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it.  The two of you got along effortlessly.  His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray.  That’s where you got it from.  But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his.  He was all over the place.  You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often.  Your uncle was definitely an oddball.  But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied.  You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world.  It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself.  It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start.  A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time.  Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one.  There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.  

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin.  Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds.  But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love.  In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them.  But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together.  It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again.  Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon.  He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright.  Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch.  As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody.  Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards.  Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her.  He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max?  Always.  

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear.  He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve.  Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together.  Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.  

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.  

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh.  “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected.  “I got a better idea.  Tell your most embarrassing story.  One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering.  “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy.  “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed.  “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink.  “Trust me.  She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand.  “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn.  “One time?  I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand.  “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him.  “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time.  El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled.  “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard.  It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high.  All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too.  Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk.  All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy.  It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots.  Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright.  You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving.  And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end.  Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group.  Technically, Erica was too.  But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space.  She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door.  That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him.  After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you.  His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be.  But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses.  Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you.  “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it.  The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have.  But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out?  All of them wanted this. The two of you together.  They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable.  “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot?  It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively. 

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered. 

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready.  Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.  

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts. 

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas. 

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered. 

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. 

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?” 

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper. 

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party.  (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends.  Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.”  (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way.  It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe.  In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other.  He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago.  Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving.  You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.”  Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing.  You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress.  It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you.  Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined.  There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets.  And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once.  Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit.  He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head.  Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts.  And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them.  Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world.  Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him.  All of you were there.  Will was there, next to all his friends.  You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper.  Even your Uncle Murray.  

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique. 

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her.  She was alive, as were the rest of you.  Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.  

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together.  You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you.  It's been light.  Hopeful. 

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift.  It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling.  You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you.  A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze.  He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room.  Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully.  “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent.  He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye.  “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes.  He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind.  You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin.  The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.  

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar.  But you could really get used to it.  It’s new.  And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well.  Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him.  Likely because of Hopper.  Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn.  Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil.  Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind.  Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug.  She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand.  You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy.  Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost.  But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see.  She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room.  For Nancy, that had been…hard.  Necessary, but hard.  For multiple reasons.  For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting.  Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong.  But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night.  Not yet.  Not after everything that had unfolded.  So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart.  But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed.  Just what the doctor ordered.  Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist.  Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon.  But he was the much simpler kind.  Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting.  Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed.  A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends.  Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy.  Robin was very different from Barb.  However, her heart was just as loving.  She loved hard, and it showed.  She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return.  And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him.  And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve.  And she even began to feel some happiness for you.  Not completely.  Not yet.  She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time.  A very long time.  But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.  

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions.  Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast.  And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet.  The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household.  Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens.  It wasn’t like all the other times.  This was different.  Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them.  Comfortable.  It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others.  And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks.  Their faces were somber, a bit grim.  Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands.  Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous.  Maybe even afraid. 

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed.  And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got.  Tension spread around the room.  It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound.  They hadn’t uttered a single word.  Not one of them.  The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards.  They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines.  The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils. 

One list of names would be hiding out here.  The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk.  Both teams could die.  Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat.  His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish.  His mind races, but his lips don’t move.  Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards.  The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him.  And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened.  Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now.  You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group.  With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did.  He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control.  He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards.  Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud.  He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica.  Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue.  He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother.  He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance.  Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated.  He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride.  But even so, he looked conflicted.  Really conflicted.  

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie.  She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it.  You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards.  Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs.  While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently.  As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious.  Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy.  Did they know this was coming?  Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them.  The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly.  “Truthfully, it’s not owed.  I know that.  Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me.  Not those guys out there.  Hence why I’m here.  And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things.  Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned.  Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense.  He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before.  There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were.  “If it were up to me?  None of you would be out there.  I’d be out there on the frontlines.  But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here.  Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect.  The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this.  We’ll be surrounded from all angles.  No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.  

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman.  I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction.  It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear.  He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self.  He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught?  What do we do?  Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward.  “We’ve thought about that.  Right now, there’s only 2 options.  But they’re solid.  The best we’ve got right now.  One more than the other.  See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up.  And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life.  His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed.  Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter.  They had him beat, and he knew it.  He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen.  It was so unexpected that he did as she said.  But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion.  As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t.  Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend.  Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense.  That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike.  Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement.  Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop.  “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled.  “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”  

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown.  Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him.  Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them.  All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this.  After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes. 

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack.  He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand.  Please Steve, please, let me go with you.  Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug.  The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time.  Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley.  She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf.  You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well.  His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.  

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end.  She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame.  “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs.  Jonathan watched her go, panicking.  He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading.  You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated.  You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side.  Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.  

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life.  Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest.  He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them.  He couldn’t.  If he did, he’d failed them.  But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway.  He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them.  For them. 

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed.  The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him.  He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.  

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first.  Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul. 

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him.  I understand.  I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand. 

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language.  I love you and I hate this.  But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast.  He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain. 

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.�� 

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El.  They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.  

This plan was not open for discussion.  

This plan was not open for debate.  

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #mishas masterlists #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut #joe keery #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman #murray bauman #jopper #jim hopper #jonathan byers #stancy #sorry stancy

[twiixr4kidz]

literally so obsessed with young neil it's not even funny HERE HAVE SOME HEADCANONS :DD

this dumbass's only hobbies are sleeping, playing video games, and ordering door dash

he's the kind of guy to shmoke weed and become intelligent

like yknow how he's very "no thoughts, head empty"?? he gets one hit and "have you ever thought about how we don't actually know anything for sure becomes humans made it up?"

does kinda progressive things without realizing they're progressive if that makes sense

"wait what do you mean painting my nails is breaking gender norms?? i just like this color........"

doesn't know the quadratic formula or how to use it, but he can show you all the secrets in legend of zelda: ocarina of time

he's the guy who always order chicken tenders and fries at any restaurant (his go-to sauce is ranch because he's correct)

he's insanely good at drawing dragons

he fucking loves dragons

definitely autistic

he's kissed more dudes than he has chicks

his first kiss actually was a dude

he has like, the world's most incredible luck and he doesn't even realize it

him n todd kick it sometimes

being on the movie set together made them become homies

also todd's a talker and neil is a great listener :3

#young neil #young neil headcanons #young neil hcs #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim takes off #spvtw #spto

[sugarpasteltmnt]

i am currently catching up on neon void, and it is a delight to read. your descriptions of leo’s mind is mesmerizing and grabs the reader’s attention so well. it’s very diverse and unique compared to other interpretations and fics♥️

i’m curious to know what your thinking process was like while writing leo’s insanity and his own thought processes.

(spoilers for ch11) the scene that stuck out to me the most was when leo was about to infect donnie. it felt so vulnerable and raw ahh

anyways i just want to dig into your mind a little to know how it works.

keep up the great work, you are doing wonderful.

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭 you are so sweet thank you!! 💙💗‼️and ohmigosh what a fun ask.

tbh i sat on this one for a while to think of how to dive into it-- beware of my (VERY) long ramblings below!

this question really got me Thinkin' and i kinda popped off but!! If i may indulge myself, here's sort of a wild explanation of how i approach Leo's Insane Brain for this specific fic:

does it meet R.I.S.E???

R - Realistic? I - Interesting? S - Silly? E - Existential?

R - Realistic

"How the hell do i make this sound realistic" is often an obstacle i run into. but it's also the Secret Sauce. What really gives the thought process direction. Given Leo's current situation, he's battling between what he wants and what he needs to do. Which is often a very real problem real people have. Exaggerating it helps create a fun back-and-forth dialog that can make his thoughts seem muddled.

With Leo in this fic’s setup, there are about five main key factors i rely on with his decision making:

Happiness The root of Leo’s general personification. He’s the guy who beat Krang One. The one who escaped a place worse than Hell. After years of missing home so much he’s FINALLY home. He’s drunk on happiness. He was finally home. And that relief and joy is what makes him so jubilant and goofy.

Awareness of his goal Though Rise Leo is a very funny dude, he's still a Leonardo. Throughout the series, Leo is the voice of reason when things are getting out of hand or are potentially dangerous. Leo's had nothing but time to think. Wishing what he'd done different. Wishing he had been more serious. After five years obsessing over his mistake and missing his family, the moment he see's the opportunity to make sure this never happens again he'll latch onto it. And when the stakes are high, accentuating that tension can help with frantic impact of his thinking.

His desire to see his family This desire often clashes with point number 2. Writing his internal struggle between the two helps with the “overwhelmed thoughts” vibe. It’s hard for him to choose! And he doesn’t wanna have to choose! Playing out the conflict between his 'want' vs his 'need to do' helps me bring out his nervous thinking process.

He's self-reprimanding thoughts We all love an Angsty Leo. It was hinted in the show that he had some self-esteem issues, but who doesn't love ramping it up to 11 for a fic??? That, and he was trapped with Krang this whole time. After hearing he was nothing but trash for five years PLUS the guilt of nearly ending the world, the guy doesn't exactly see himself in a great light you know? This can help clash with point 1, again helping with that 'what he wants' vs 'what he needs to do' inner conflict.

Instinct to Survive / Feral Tendencies This one is super fun. I love feral AUs/tropes. With little to no socialization in the Prison Dimension, Leo's sanity started to slip, leaving his body's natural instincts to become more profound. Plus, with the Krang Parasite, I like to exaggerate how feral/dangerous he could be outside of 'turtle' instincts. (Seeing that parasite hosts in the movie were very violent). Sprinkling in feral moments is just a delicious thrill I love adding, and it makes the insanity factor skyrocket and it's so fun to write 🩵🩵🩵

I - Interesting

Is Leo's thought process interesting to read??? Honestly, I just gun for what I think is the most interesting; Leo's relationship with his brothers (especially Raph), and the cause and effects of his shenanigans.

Also, I liked to experiment with wonky texts to help emphasize key moments or words to grab attention. Mostly because it feels like a fun surprise to read them in my opinion. Though not necessary in writing, I thought using some funky fonts might entice and excite 💙

S- Silly

THE BIG ONE!!! EVERYONE'S FAVORITE!!! 🎉🎊🥳🎉 Something I really love love love about Rise's style is that it's silly It's unique! It's fun! I love that Leo and the others are goofy and have some slap-stick moments. And I wanted to keep that with Leo despite everything. Plus, I ADORE that in this iteration of TMNT, the characters are such showmen. They are DRAMATIC. They are SILLY. And that's something I wanna celebrate!! Plus, as much as I love angst, writing nothing but pure angst is exhausting. (And I'm sure reading pure angst isn't enjoyably to everyone.) Throwing in Silly moments is like a little moment of refreshment to me 🩵

I also like to believe that Leo kept his sense of humor out of sheer SPITE. The 'wipe that stupid grin off your face' line in the movie really stuck with me. I feel like Leo would smile through his fear and still be a clown just to spite Krang One.

E - Existential

At the end of the day, Leo is dealing with a VERY big issue. I felt like the Rise movie did an excellent job portraying the severity of an alien invasion for the setting Rise had. And the weight of the situation would be too great for one person. And this is often what I refer back to to make Leo snap. A relapse in clarity of mind. A moment for the panic and PTSD to come back in full force and make him rely on his instincts. Usually the feral instincts he became more attuned with while fleeing/fighting Krang One. It also goes hand-in-hand with his awareness of his goal (as mentioned in 'Realistic' above).

And that's kinda a word-vomit of how it goes!! Honestly??? The tug-o-war between conflicting thoughts helps me write the madness in his head. It's been super fun and interesting, and I hope it's been fun to read!!! (Though I'm telling you now I will NOT be doing those floating text tables again OOF)

Thank you again for the ask it was super fun to think about ;w; 🩵‼️

#thank u for coming to my Ted Talk #long post #sorry i kinda Went Off (affectionate) on this lmao #does this make sense??? only Pizza Supreme knows 😔 #pastel prattling

[bad268]

Truth or Hydrate (ElasticDroid X Streamer! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous 

Requested: Nope

Warnings:  Language (as always), alcohol, sexual jokes, chat calling reader a “pick me,” basically word for word of the video just in a different order.

Pronouns: None used (First person) but menstruating reader

W.C. 1916

Summary:  During the Truth or Hydrate stream, everyone gets a little too drunk, but it's all fun and games until someone's feelings get hurt.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Screen shot from a video idr which)

“What’s up gamers? How y’all doing today?” Droid started off as people began flooding into the stream. I was grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge as the guys bantered back and forth before taking the spot on the ground between Droid and Grizzy. “Someone wanna explain bruh? It’s a lot.”

“Bitch, it’s your thing!” Grizzy laughed along with Puffer and Pezzy while rolled my eyes and cracked open a Mike’s. 

“Geez, we’re doing truth or drink,” Droid explained, going into deeper detail. Puffer, jokingly, started snoring, so Droid said, “Aye, quiet down in the back, yeah?”

“Chat says it's a slumber party,” I laughed, pointing out the one message I could see from my spot. 

“Guys, take your shoes off, stay awhile. Slumber party!” Pezzy joked, enthusiastically. “Are your feet stinky?”

“Mine aren’t, but I’d rather Droid keep his shoes on,” I pressed, pushing his feet away from me with a laugh as he tried to smell them. He put them toward Puffer to which he gagged before pushing Droid’s feet away. 

“I can smell them from here actually! Those actually smell,” Puffer complained. Droid tried to smell his feet again, and he made a face before putting his shoes on.

“You realized they stink?” I asked rhetorically, plugging my nose and leaning away.

“Don’t act like yours smell like roses,” He retorted, pushing his feet toward me.

“I showered today, so they smell like my soap, dumbass,” I cringed as I shoved his feet away. 

“Okay, what are we doing?” Pezzy asked.

“This is the dealio,” Droid started. “Truth or drink. If someone doesn’t want to answer a question, they have to take a shot.”

“Oh, this was meant to be hot sauce?” Grizzy asked, looking at the box.

“Yeah, wanna try it?” I asked, jokingly pulling out a mini Tabasco from my pocket and offering it to him.

“No,” Grizzy said skeptically.

“He’s a pussy, dude,” Pezzy stated.

“Y’all keep it at 89 fucking degrees in this house. You think I want hot sauce right now?” Grizzy emphasized.

“That’s all Pezzy, bruh,” Droid muttered.

“Bitch you were just freezing before the stream,” Grizzy pointed out, and Droid agreed before putting his hand on Grizzy’s arm. “WOAH!” Pezzy and Puffer grabbed his hand, feeling how cold it actually was, in shock. 

I held out my hand because I wanted to see as Pezzy asked, “Are you okay?”

Droid put his hand in mine as he responds with, “I am now.” I jokingly ripped my hand from his as chat exploded. 

“Okay, back on topic. Who are we asking the questions to?” I asked, taking another drink and leaning back to look up at Droid.

“It’s a group thing, so everybody in the room pretty much,” Droid responded, handing me the box to look it over. 

“Shit, we’re gonna need more alcohol,” Grizzy and I muttered.

“How many secrets y’all got, dog?” Droid asked in shock.

Puffer drew first, and his question was, “The most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”

“I shit my pants in a car ride home with my friends,” Grizzy said immediately. We all started talking over each other until Grizzy interrupted us, “I was like 8, bro!”

“I got one,” Puffer paused as Droid said that he knew it. “I fell in the San Antonio River.”

“OH! What the fuck?!” Droid shouted. All of us started laughing as Puffer told the story of the bike breaking and flinging him into the river. “There’s no ladder, so once you’re in, you’re in.”

“My dad took me to the track,” Droid started, going into a long story about how he shit himself immediately after arriving home. “I think I was just relieved to be home and I made it far enough.” 

“Jesus, mine’s not nearly that bad,” I laughed. “I bled through my pants at a guy’s house like a year ago,” I paused as they started laughing. “Dude really hit me with the ‘did you spill Hawaiian punch on my couch?’ and I have not talked to him since.”

“Fuck man, mine was when I was in school and I trusted a fart too much,” Pezzy began. “I had to call my mom and say I shit my pants.”

“Bro, why did all of you shit yourselves? Do y’all not have control of your bowels?” I laughed, taking a casual drink. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Droid, Grizzy, and Pezzy shouted into their microphones.

~ “How much do you make annually?” “Less than these bitches! The wage gap definitely exists!” I shouted.

“You won’t actually say it,” Puffer challenged.

“For 100 gifted, I will! I expect a good payout if I out myself like that,” I laughed.

~ “Who would you trade lives with?”

“Puffer?” Droid and Grizzy eyed him.

“Nah, I’m good. My answer is I’m good,” Puffer said fast. 

“I am at a crossroads here,” I laughed. “On one hand, I get paid more. However, I have a dick. I think that’s a deal breaker.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a girl,” Pezzy said, nonchalantly. 

“Have fun on your period, Pezzy. You’re a bitch when it comes to pain,” I checkled, taking another drink.

“Ah shit, nevermind,” He cringed.

~~

A few cards in, and a lot of drinks and shots later, the chat could tell we were feeling it. All of us were kind of letting all of the juicy details out.

“Who have you fantasized about in your life that you shouldn’t have? No celebrities allowed,” Pezzy read. 

“My sophomore year math teacher,” Grizzy said off the bat. “I forgot that motherfucker’s name, but I remember that ass like it was yesterday.”

“If I said someone in this room, I am not clarifying,” I laughed, downing my fourth Mike’s.

“WHAT?! We need details,” All of the guys shouted over each other.

“Maybe at a future card, but I am not drunk enough yet. Does that mean I should take a shot?” I asked, already pouring a shot without waiting for an answer and throwing it back. “Okay, what’s the next question?”

“What is your biggest online screwup,” Grizzy read off.

“This,” I laughed as I got up to make a new drink as I ran out of Mike's. As soon as I stood up, the room started spinning, so I immediately sat back down. “Holy shit, I am fucked. Can someone make me a Jack and Coke? This was the last Mike’s.” 

“I’ve got you,” Pezzy said as he was already getting up to get a new drink.

“Cool, I’m gonna pick a card while you do that,” I shouted to him, reaching over Droid’s legs to grab the deck.

“Woah, we got a magician over here,” Droid muttered after I flattened out the cards to pick one. I looked up at him, confused, before he said, “Take me to dinner first.”

“I have,” I pointed out, “multiple times. You’re just not giving.”

“Hey woah, no need to call me out like that!” He objected.

“She’s wined and dined you so many times. When are you going to fuck her?” Puffer joked.

“Exactly my point,” I muttered before grabbing everyone’s attention, “But, this is getting out of hand, moving on! Who is your hottest friend?”

“Y/N,” Grizzy and Droid said without hesitation. Everyone’s attention snapped to them as we all started talking over each other. 

“I think Droid,” I whispered into my microphone as I winked at the camera. 

“Who is the friskiest?” 

“I don’t know if I can or want to answer this,” Grizzy said as he took a shot.

“What was your most recent porn search?” Droid asked. Everyone started complaining, saying they were going to take a shot, but I pulled out my phone to check chat before pulling my microphone super close to my face.

“I walked in on Pezzy doing some shit,” I admitted. “That shit scared me for life.”

“When did you walk in on me, and when was I going to learn about that?” Pezzy shouted.

“Like a week ago, you asked for Whataburger, and I was bringing it to your room like a GOOD ROOMMATE!” I shouted toward him as I checked the chat. It was going too fast for me to actually read it while the guys kept pestering me to tell them what he was watching.

“Wait I got a question,” Droid brings the arguing to a stop, “Do any of you dabble in the hentai?”

Immediately, the boys responded with “Yes.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as I cringed at all of them. “Y’all are fucking gross. Do y’all feel disgusting afterward because damn thats actually nasty.”

“I have gone so far down that rabbit hole, it is not even funny,” Pezzy admitted. 

“You are really feeling those drinks, huh” Grizzy laughed. 

“Yes, I am,” Pezzy responded definitively.

“We did not need to know you that personally, Pezzy,” I laughed, taking a shot.

“No wait, we’re not just gonna glaze over the fact that you didn’t answer,” Droid pointed out.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t watch porn,” I laughed defensively.

“Who doesn’t watch porn?” Puffer asked rhetorically.

“Me, duh,” I deadpanned as the boys kept arguing. I looked down at the chat and chat was loving the interactions. That is until the part where I said I admitted that I do not watch porn came on. Everyone transformed into calling me a ‘pick me,’ saying I was lying, or making sexual jokes about me being innocent in chat. Mods were not able to keep up as some were still coming through. I did not even notice that the guys had moved on to another question as I got up, swaying slightly, to leave the video. “Hey, I’m gonna head out. I’m hella drunk.”

“No, this is when it’ll get good,” Droid tried to persuade, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit here on stream. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve already ruined my reputation enough for the night,” I forced a laugh, moving toward the kitchen off camera. I put my glass in the sink and grabbed a water bottle before just sitting on the floor in the kitchen. I heard the guys talking quietly for a second before footsteps started approaching the kitchen. I looked up to see Droid standing over me before he took a seat next to me.

“What happened? Too much?” He asked.

“No, I can handle my alcohol,” I laughed. “Chat was saying shit, and I didn’t want to give them more ammo.”

“What were they saying?”

“Shit about how I’m a pick me for not watching porn or how I’m innocent or how I’m lying for attention. Nothing I haven’t seen or heard before, but I didn’t want to deal with it.”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” he said as he moved to put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “I’m sorry chat’s bullying you.”

“Again, not like it isn’t something I see everyday,” I sighed, leaning into his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss the crown of my head. “And again, you shouldn’t have to. You were literally telling the truth,” He responded. After a moment of silence between us, minus the murmurs of the guys in the living room, Droid pulled away slightly, still keeping me in his arms. “Plus, why would you need porn? You have me.”

“And why do you need amateur porn?” I retorted, “You have me.”

“wHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Oh, Puffer didn’t know. Oops.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#elastic droid x reader #elasticdroid x reader #elastic droid x you #elasticdroid x you #streamer reader #x reader #elastic droid #elasticdroid #bigpuffer #grizzy #pezzy #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ꜰᴏᴜʀ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Getting kidnapped was not on the checklist today.

Saving an old lady from a speeding car? Check.

Show up to class barely on time? Check.

Grab a burrito on the way to meet the girl who needed his help from yesterday? Check.

But getting kidnapped and signing a contract he never wanted? Not on the list. Never was it on the list.

Miles stares at the girl before him for a second, then down at the contract in her hands. He contemplates using his webs to grab and tear it up so it’d be rendered useless. 

Unfortunately, she seems to have sensed his intentions because she turns around and waves the contract in front of him with a teasing smile. 

“Sorry dude, I already took a photo and sent it to all my emails. Living in the twenty-first century really has its perks.”

Damn it.

How did he even get into this situation in the first place? Maybe it was when he didn’t knock on wood after he talked about nothing bad happening with Ganke. Yeah, it was probably that. But it still doesn’t completely explain how you found out about his identity. He’d been so careful too!

“How’d you even find out?” He finally voices his curiosity, unwrapping the sub in his hands and taking a bite. He pauses, looking down at it with intrigue. It was given to him as an apology after you had both left the store, and it’s surprisingly good. He recalls the bemused glance the owner had given them both when he opened the door, only to let her go without another word or further question.

It was almost impressive.

Then again, this is Brooklyn, after all. He'd probably seen weirder. 

Now, he and the girl are on the rooftop, the latter sitting down a short distance from him and starting to sketch absentmindedly in her sketchbook. He’s still guarded, having intended to treat her coldly for how she had borderline kidnapped and blackmailed him. 

Scratch that; he did, in fact, get kidnapped and blackmailed.

But her calm demeanour throws him off. What was one supposed to do in this scenario? He’d never encountered this before, not even once in the three months or so that he’d been Spiderman.

“Y’know, the usual.” 

“The usual?” He repeats, raising a brow before taking another bite. He still has half the mask on, not fully taking it off around her even though she knew who he was.

“Yeah, just did a little digging. Y’know, you’d think you’d be more careful for a superhero.”

“I was!” He defends himself, a sharp edge to his words. 

She chuckles, lips pulled into a half-smile as she looks up at him with amusement. “Then you might want to be more careful about how you sneak in and out of your dorm, Morales.”

He flinches at the use of his last name. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

His dorm? Since when was she around his dorm? 

“Did you stalk me?”

She looks up again from her sketchbook with an offended gasp, holding her hand over her heart with a frown. “I would never! The only time I ‘followed’ you was when you basically revealed your entire secret identity by very openly crawling into your dorm window. Literally anyone would’ve found out if they were around the area.” 

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “So much for secret identity.” He mutters to himself, taking another bite of the surprisingly addicting sub. The bread is fluffy, albeit slightly soggy from the sauces that coat the vegetables and meat. He tastes a hint of cinnamon, arching a brow in intrigue. 

Little odd, but it works. 

“It’s good, right? Mr Perez does the best in the city.” 

He merely shrugs in response. He hears a soft sigh, choosing to stare at the citizens on the sidewalk below.

“I’m sorry,” He hears her speak up, turning around with a sceptical frown. An apology? Now?

“If you’re sorry, you’d forget my identity and tear up the contract,” he mutters. 

“Yeah… I can't afford that.” 

“Why not?” He’s taken aback by her sheepish smile. 

“Here’s the thing… I kinda need you to be my model regardless. I’m an art student in need of a muse. I’ve been in such a slump lately, and I’m a little…desperate.”

“And I’m that muse?” He questions, oddly flattered yet still wary of her true intentions.

She shrugs. “Yeah. Look, you’ll get it once you see this.” She rifles through her backpack, grabs a large sketchbook and hands it to him. Instead of taking it from her like a normal and trusting person, he uses the web shooter on his wrist to spray a thin line, tugging it toward him. It dangles from the web, and he double-checks it in case it’s another trap. 

“There’s like, a mustard stain from years back, and the white powder is chalk.” Her comment makes him scoff, already having recognised the powdery residue. He flips it open, scanning through the pages. 

The first few are rather good, with sketches of people he doesn’t recognise. The shading is done well, putting his own to shame, actually. He continues to turn the pages, the next few a lot more colourful with the added use of watercolour pencils and charcoal. A soft coat of bright dust rubs off on his fingers, and he rubs it off quickly before continuing to look through the sketchbook.

He notes the slight wince on her lips in his peripheral, taking great care to ensure he doesn’t accidentally tear the pages. If she’s really an art student, then from one artist to another, allowing someone to view their sketchbook — containing their most private thoughts and inspirations, is practically sacred.

And just for that, he pauses eating his sub, wrapping it up and stowing it away for later.

Miles recalls his own sketchbook at home, the first pages already occupied by a half-finished sketch of Gwen. He subtly shakes his head to rid himself of the lingering nostalgia, focusing instead on the drawings before him. He frowns from the sudden and apparent lack of motivation. Though details were technically accurate, it was as if they had no life, just flat, one-dimensional drawings against the blank paper.

His breath hitches when he turns the page to see a full sketch of him leaning against the wall. He subconsciously leans in close, studying the details on his suit he hadn’t even noticed. It’s good. Really good. It’s only half-coloured, but even then, the way she did it can’t help but draw your attention, as if he’d step off the page and give himself a playful salute.

“So?” Her voice is calm. He senses her thoughtful gaze. 

“It’s good.” He replies simply. “Was this on the day we met?” He turns the book around to show her the drawing he's referencing. She nods, and he hums in response.

“I need your number, by the way. To schedule our next meetup.” She holds out her phone for him, the keypad on her screen and waits for him to key it in. He stands up, walks over, stops two feet away, and hands her back her sketchbook.

He reluctantly puts his number into her phone. He has half a mind to put in a random number instead, just to inconvenience her. He decides against it, however, and taps away at the keypad. 

She’d probably find out his number somehow if he did that.

“May I at least have the pleasure of knowing my kidnapper's name?” Miles asks sarcastically, keeping an eye on her as she continues to tap away at her phone. 

“The name’s Ray, Ray Paynt.” 

He chokes on his drink. 

“What?” He asks through the tissue he grabs from his pocket, wiping his mouth of any orange juice that had spilt from hearing her name. Unique is one way to describe it.

“But you, however, can refer to me as Ray.” 

He doesn’t know how to feel. 

“Ray, short for Rachel?” He asks. She nods confidently.

“Right.” 

She stands up, brushing off the dirt on her pants before sending him a halfhearted grin, and he nods in response. “Well, this has been…fun. But I gotta get home for dinner. I’ll text you when our next meetup will be. See you soon.” She says briefly, heading to the door that leads to the staircase. She opens it, pausing to glance back at him.

“Also, you might wanna check out the side of your head just in case,” she adds sheepishly before shutting the door behind her.

He reaches up to the left side of his head, only to wince when he massages the slightly sore spot. Right. He forgot about that.

Swinging back to his dorm room is peaceful, crossing the familiar well-lit streets and the occasional pickpocket on the way. In contrast to the chilly night air and calm breeze, his thoughts overlap like crashing waves on a once-calm shore.

Who really is she?

What kind of person is she?

Why him?

Even though they had spoken (rather begrudgingly on his behalf) after she knocked him out and made him sign a contract that was surprisingly in his favour, he knew next to nothing about her. 

Besides her name, he supposes. But where is she from? How did she find him in the first place? Did the store owner know her? 

Is she an enemy?

He sighs, walking under the subway bridge. Whatever she is, he has to figure out if her intentions really are as simple as she says. From one artist to another, he understands having an art block. It’s one of the worst things in the world.

But from one superhero to a civilian, she’s an enigma. 

All this thinking was making his head hurt.

“Yo, one pack of the usual painkillers, por favor,” Miles requests upon walking into the small convenience store he frequents. The owner looks up from his phone, reaching down and handing him a palm-sized red box. 

“Thanks, Lenny. How much do I owe you for this?” He reaches into the suit’s concealed pocket for his wallet, eager to return and get some well-deserved rest.

“Ten bucks. What’s got you so roughed up?” Lenny asks curiously, leaning over the counter after taking the cash he hands him.

Miles sighs, shoulders slumping at the question. How was one supposed to explain the series of unfortunate events that happened to him in fifty words or less? 

“Nothin’ much, just a little tired, I guess.” He chooses his words carefully. 

“Ah, I hear ‘ya. I got one regular who’s always walkin’ in here looking for energy drinks.” Lenny chuckles. “Man, the bags under her eyes were insane. Haven’t seen her in a while, though. I’m tellin’ you, kids these days have to rest more, not stay up all night studying. Y’all gotta have fun.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Miles nods vigorously, agreeing with the sentiment a little too deeply. He exits the store with a final goodbye, continuing to swing his way back through Brooklyn.

He crawls up the wall back to his dorm, pausing near the window as his fingertips brush over the edge. He takes a moment to look around and survey the area. His eyes land on the alleyway nearby, in clear view from his current location. If he could see it from here, then that meant whoever was there could see him, too. 

“The only time I ‘followed’ you was when you basically revealed your entire secret identity by very openly crawling into your dorm window. Literally anyone would’ve found out if they were around the area.”

He groans, hanging his head.

“Damn it.”

— — — — — 

A brand new day always means a brand new start.

In your case, it takes the form of a signed contract, framed and hung on your bedroom wall. You stare at it in satisfaction, smiling giddily at the fact that you had finally, finally, secured your muse. 

Even though the method used was a little unethical.

But that didn’t matter, because he signed the contract!

He. Signed. The contract.

It’s set in stone now, and this particular reminder sends a rush of adrenaline through you, the physical contract cementing this fact. It had been a couple of days since the incident, and this had become your new routine every morning. 

“Honey, it’s time to wake up!” You’re startled out of your thoughts when your mother calls you from the kitchen, having already almost finished getting ready. All that’s left is to get out of the bathrobe you have on into proper clothes and brush your teeth.

Once done, you enter the kitchen cheerfully, patting the leftover bits of moisturiser into your skin before greeting your mother with a big hug. She laughs as you pull away, raising her brows curiously. “What’s got you in such a good mood today?” 

“Not much,” You hum, taking the bowl of stew she hands you and sitting down at the dining table. You begin to dig in, alerted to your father's presence, who walks into the kitchen with a groan.

Your mother hands him another bowl of piping hot stew, the scent of spicy chilli flakes helping to clear his head. He sits down opposite you with a soft grunt, your mother sitting beside him with concern. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask through mouthfuls, blowing on the spoonful of tofu in your hands to cool it down. 

“Someone accidentally hit me on the head with a binder at work yesterday,” Your father replies with a wince, sending your mother a thankful smile when she starts to feed him spoonfuls of stew. You watch his hand massage the spot on his head with a tinge of guilt, recalling how you had gotten Morales to be your muse. 

You should probably get him a gift as an apology.

“Get well soon, Dad. You should go see the doctor if it gets worse.” You add, placing your now-empty bowl in the sink after the last mouthful. 

“Will you be back home for dinner today?”

You pause, tilting your head in thought. “I don't think so. I’ll message you guys if anything comes up, though,” You promise, grabbing your bag and heading toward the door. 

The walk to school is as usual, nothing out of the ordinary besides the weather being a little sunnier than normal Brooklyn weather. Luckily, you have your trusty portable fan, using it to stay cool in the heat.

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you take it out to see a new message from Morales.

Ray (Paynt) [ 10:00 PM ]: Yo, you free tomorrow at 3 for our first session?

Morales [ 10:30 PM ]: When you put it that way, no.

- [ Morales ] has changed your name to [ The Kidnapper ] -

- [ Morales ] has changed their name to [ The Kidnappee ] -

The Kidnapper [ 10:30 PM ]: Boooo. I’ll take that as a yes, though. Anyway, meet me at Fort Bridge Park at 3. I hope you like waffles :)

The Kidnappee [ 07:50 AM ]: Who doesn’t?

Ray Paynt. You have to admit, few can come up with such a good fake name on the fly. You mentally pat yourself on the back for it, grinning at how easily he had believed you. Ray, short for Rachel? Absolutely priceless.

“Are you texting your crush or something?” 

You yelp at the sudden hand around your shoulders, instantly shoving your phone in your pocket and glaring at Michael’s mischievous smirk. You push your elbow against his rib, but he’s already prepared for your reaction, moving away before he can get hit.

“How’d you even meet, anyway?” He continues to ask, undeterred by your response. You shrug.

“Just ran into him and recognised his face,” You answer simply, entering the school gates together. 

“What’s for lunch today, anyway?” Michael changes the subject, already bored with your short responses. He’d probably try to dig deeper into it another time. 

“From what Greta told me, it’s lasagna for the special. I think it’s something else for the regular.” 

“I don’t know how you got her to do it, but you gotta hook me up with that staff discount of hers sometime,” Michael complains, sticking to you like glue through the crowded hallway as you make your way to your locker. 

“Just be better,” You say nonchalantly, reaching your locker and taking out the textbooks you need for the day. You huff in amusement from his eye roll, greeting Nicole with a smile when you spot her a few feet away from you both.

“Hey, you got something here.” You grab a wet tissue from your locker and lean down slightly, using your thumb to brush against the corner of her lips where a spot of grease is, wiping it off and tucking her messy hair behind her ear. You straighten your back with a soft smile, noticing the slight pink that coats the tips of her ears when you do so.

“Thanks.”

“Hang on.” 

Pausing at Michael’s words, you watch him lean down, reaching his hand out to try and replicate what you did. Instead, Nicole twists his hand, bringing him to his knees with a glare. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“But-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Nicole warns clearly, finally letting go as a sign of mercy. You smile sympathetically, helping him to his feet and massaging the sore spot on his wrist. He mutters his thanks, pulling his wrist away after. 

School passes by in the blink of an eye, and you find yourself at the gates ready to leave at Two P.M. Nicole had her chess club — she had a match coming up that she couldn’t afford to lose. You’re more than certain that she never will, having watched her break her opponent down mentally during a previous match. Michael had his neighbourhood basketball game that he rushed off to, promising to introduce you to a new cafe another time.

Cafe. Right. 

The plan for today is simple. Grab some amazing waffles from the cafe you’d seen people rave about online, and meet Spidey-Boy at Fort Bridge Park, where you’d chill out and draw him in different poses or something. 

You’re still not entirely sure how this muse thing is supposed to go. But that’s okay! You’ll figure it out along the way.

Public transport is a blessing to have. The thought of owning your own car in the future makes you excited. You’d never have to deal with other people’s bad body odour ever again. The lack of hygiene of some commuters makes you determined to push forth a project on personal grooming in the future. 

Standing next to a man grabbing the handles in the train, revealing the sweat-soaked spot under his shoulders, only reaffirms this resolve. 

You finally hear your stop being called out over the speakers, all but rushing out the doors and inhaling deeply. Your lungs burn from the shallow breaths you took standing next to him, grateful for the existence of oxygen. 

Surprisingly enough, Google Maps gets you to the cafe in only fifteen minutes, and you order your waffles to go, waiting patiently in the store while blissfully inhaling the smell of freshly baked croissants and ground coffee. 

You’ll definitely be coming here again for a study session. 

You hear your name being called shortly after, thanking the server who hands you your order before exiting and heading to Fort Bridge Park with, yet again, the help of Google Maps. Thankfully, you reach five minutes before the scheduled time, choosing to sit down at a random bench and waiting for your muse to show up.

The Kidnapper [ 02:55 PM ]: I’m sitting near the bridge. Hope you’re hungry 

The Kidnappee [ 02:55 PM ]: Are you the one looking down really intensely at your phone?

“I am not looking intensely, thank you very much.” You say with a lighthearted scoff once Morales plops down next to you seconds after you read his message. 

“Right,” He replies sarcastically. “Where’s the promised waffle? And my ten bucks?” 

“Here’s your waffle. Payment will only be made at the end of each session.” You hand him the waffle, and he takes it without complaint, though his eyes narrow at the last few words. 

“That’s not what you promised.” 

“It’s in the contract,” You reply with a hum, taking a bite and grinning in delight at the fluffy texture. “Eat, eat!” 

He reluctantly pulls up his mask slightly, unwraps the waffle and bites down at your strong encouragement, lips pursed as he chews. “It’s…not bad.” 

“Not bad? It’s insanely good! No wonder it got so many popular reviews. The kaya in this one is incredible. You gotta try this.” You hold up the half-eaten waffle to him, and he looks at you warily.

“Here,” You tear off a piece of your waffle instead, eagerly holding it out to him. 

He takes it. “I think this is better,” He holds up the one in his hand after eating the piece you offered. 

“To each their own,” You comment, finishing off your waffle in mere minutes while he’s still slowly enjoying his. You dust off the crumbs on your hands and pull out your sketchbook, making yourself comfortable and crossing your legs before turning to face him. 

You notice him stiffening from the sudden attention, chuckling at his reaction. It was kinda cute. 

“Just pretend I’m not here,” You assure him, smiling warmly. “Just do what you normally do when you relax or when you’re not off fighting crime in lovely Brooklyn.”

His shoulders are still tense, but he slowly rests against the bench backrest, watching the people pass by. They notice his presence but ignore him in favour of rushing off to their own destinations, as are the lovely people of your city. Some linger around but quickly get bored once they realise that there’s nothing exciting happening.

“So, what’s your favourite food?” You break the silence with a question. You need him to relax so much more than his current self, who looks as if he’d bolt any chance he gets. 

“Pasteles, they’re probably the best food to ever exist.” 

“What’re those?” You pause, looking up with interest at this new dish you’ve never heard of. 

“Oh, pasteles are like, this food. It’s got pork and adobo in it, and it’s just amazing. My mom makes the best,” He answers excitedly, animatedly using his hands to describe the food. You grin in amusement, nodding at his words. 

“I’ve never tried them. The closest thing I’ve tried is a rice dumpling.”

“Rice dumpling?” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yeah. Usually, when you hear dumpling, you think, like, gyoza or whatever, but these rice dumplings I’m talking about are on a whole other level. It’s basically pork or chicken, filling in sticky glutinous rice, wrapped in banana leaves in a triangle, and then steamed. It’s so good. I’ll bring some next time!”

“Cool, I’ll bring some pasteles too. But why are they triangle shaped?”

“That’s a good question,” You pause when you realise you don’t know the answer, pulling out your phone and doing a quick Google search. It proves fruitful, with Wikipedia being your one and only saviour. 

“Says here that they used to be in bamboo tubes, but they wrapped them in chinaberry leaves so dragons wouldn’t consume them. That’s actually pretty cool. I respect the dedication,” You remark, turning your screen to show him the Wikipedia page. He leans in, scanning the words with an intrigued hum before leaning back.

“Imagine having dragons, though.”

“I dunno, man. I’m talking to Spiderman right now. Dragons aren’t that far-fetched to me.” You crack, watching his shoulders shake with his laughs. You pick up the pencil and sketch as quickly as possible, satisfied with his relaxed state. Quickly finishing it up and polishing a few strokes here and there, you realise you’d gotten so absorbed in your drawing that the sun was already beginning to set.

He’s waiting patiently for you, scrolling through his Instagram feed. You pack your tools, feeling guilty for keeping him here for so long. “Thanks for waiting for me,” you say gratefully, zipping up your bag and standing up.

“Couldn’t leave without my ten bucks.” He quips. Your eyes widen at the reminder, patting your pockets and feeling for the ten-dollar bill stowed away in one of them. Once you find it, you pull it out and hand it to him. He takes it happily.

You’re both alerted to a food truck playing a short jingle over the speakers. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a gelato truck. 

“Their stuff’s pretty good,” He says, eyes trained on the sign offering a special discount from now till next weekend.

“Here’s a fun fact: I’ve never tried gelato,” You admit.

He scoffs. “And you call yourself a foodie.”

“I do not,” You defend yourself, lips pursed into a slight playful frown. He strides off to the cart, returning with two small cups. A single scoop of vanilla rests in one, and he hands you the other with a scoop of chocolate gelato inside. 

You take a quick bite, eyes widening slightly at the heavenly taste that greets your tongue. You take another spoonful, then another. 

“It’s good, right?” You nod vigorously in response, his lips tugging up into a satisfied smirk at your bright smile. The gelato is absolutely decadent and insanely creamy to the point that it feels like you’re just drinking it.

Wait. Creamy?

“Does this have dairy in it?”

A quick nod from him confirms your fear. You look down at the gelato in your hands, taking another small spoonful and sighing blissfully in your head. You sense his eyes on you, filled with slight worry. “It’s fine; I can deal with anything. I’m not that weak,” You chuckle with a dismissive wave of your hand. You both soon finish the gelato and part ways with a simple goodbye.

You’d deal with the consequences later.

At least, that’s what you told yourself before now, hunching over the toilet bowl while cursing out the inferior genes you had inherited from your parents. 

So much for being able to handle anything.

— — — — — — — — —

taglist:

@oh-kurva @brunnettiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas @horologiumwise @ken-zah @sockgoblin @itstooearly-its3am @anuncalledbridge @ditto737 @sophipet @mirophobic @dilucpegg3r @urmotherswhor3 @arraxthatsonjah @ameliabs-world @superiorbyfar @swaqlover @janyiahsucks-blog @choco-malk-blog @akemiixx01 @a-cult-leader @berryunderscore @scarletrosesposts @stargirlhayven @bellstwd @edgyficuselastica @psyche404 @sukisprettyface

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

[strangersatellites]

i’ve been missing the universe from my first fic lately, so enjoy this snippet (my best comedic work yet) from tip of my tongue, he’s pulling my hair; i’d do what he wants anywhere

“Henderson, please do not get pizza sauce on my carpet!” Steve yells across his house at the man-child balancing boxes reaching higher than his head.

“Geez, Steve, relax, would you?” Dustin chides, “Why are you freaking out anyways? I have never once seen your house this clean.”

Steve spares a moment to feel a bit caught out. “He’s right,” he thinks.

He follows Dustin into the living room carrying a stack of plates. He is met with a sight he has grown all too familiar with over the years of the kids using his home as their designated hang out. Coffee table pulled out to the middle of the floor so there is optimal seating around its perimeter; Lucas, Mike, and Will already seated and bickering about Will’s campaign; Max and El on his couch trying to choose a movie to watch; and more D&D paraphernalia then he even understands or knows what to do with. The only thing currently missing are the rest of the adults of the group, all of whom are en route, hopefully with beer and other substances so that Steve can get through another night of fifteen year olds screaming until three in the morning.

“No seriously dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what the hell are you being so weird for?” Mike asks about the time Steve realizes he’s moved the cups around the table three times.

Moving to stand at the head of the table Steve claps his hands together and places his hands on his hips in what the kids call his “mom pose”, deciding to make an announcement. They had originally planned on just introducing Eddie as a friend, and then getting a read from the kids before they told them anything more. But now that they have seemed to figure out that something is up, Steve is loath to keep the secret from them.

“Oh here we go,” Lucas whines.

Mike groans and Max and El perk up in their seats.

“Watch it Sinclair. Don't make me put you on trash duty.”

Lucas mimes zipping his lips shut.

“Thank you. Okay gang. I don’t usually ask you guys to be on your best behavior because my home is your home and all that shit. But today Robs is bringing over this guy that I have been talking to so I really need you guys to be cool.” Steve pleads with the group, feeling irrationally jittery even though he knows they can tell he’s nervous and would never do anything to actually jeopardize or invalidate his worries.

The girls on the couch both look like this is the best news they have ever heard. Meanwhile, Will, Lucas, and Mike all look shellshocked. Dustin is the only one who maintains some sense of a calm demeanor. Immediately diffusing the shock with an “Okay.. well we’re missing a D20, does anyone have a spare in a backpack or something?”

Steve just laughs as his panic is so quickly relieved with the normalcy of these kids, who all immediately take to looking under the table and under pillows for the missing dice. He takes a second to be grateful they all are so quick to support one another, himself included.

Steve, shaking off his shock, responds, “You know what? I think you guys actually left some here last time you came over to play, let me go grab them.”

“Sweet, thanks mom!” Lucas says to Steve’s retreating form, earning himself a middle finger over the shoulder.

On his way down the hall he hears the doorbell and the sounds of Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle joining the party and making themselves at home. Steve thinks the most home this house has ever felt is when it is full of these kids and these friends.

Walking into his spare room Steve rifles through the top dresser drawer that has turned into some kind of makeshift lost and found, letting out a victorious “aha!” when he lays his hands on Dustin’s missing D20 and the various other matching D-something’s.

He stops in front of the mirror one last time on his way out to give himself a pep talk before Eddie comes over. It's not that he’s nervous to see him, but the fact that Eddie is essentially meeting his family today, and everyone that's important to him. Logically, he knows there is literally no way they won't like him, but a little bit of fear permanently stays lodged in his chest these days and today it's chosen to take root in this situation.

Making his way back to the rowdy table he drops the dice in Dustin’s hand with a flourish and goes to check his phone to see if the rest of the group are almost here. He is broken out of his task to Dustin’s “What the fuck?”

Turning to see Dustin still standing stock still with the dice in his hand Steve makes to reprimand him for his language before getting cut off with “These are Eddie’s.”

Steve freezes. Approximately a million thoughts and questions start running through his head, the most prominent he asks aloud, “How do you guys know Eddie?”

By now the rest of the party has clued into the situation, Lucas chiming in, “Eddie’s our DM when we play at Hellfire. How do you know Eddie?”

Steve stutters, trying to connect the dots.

“Oh my god,” Dustin screeches, “Eddie said he lost his customs after he was playing with a hookup. Was it you?”

Steve has about three seconds to be offended that Eddie referred to him as a “hookup” and to think that he needs to text Eddie a warning before the doorbell rings.

This time, everyone freezes, Steve sees the moment that the kids all suddenly remember that Steve said Robin was bringing a guy over.

Steve, still in shock, is rooted to his spot while Mike runs to the door, flinging it open to reveal Robin and Eddie. If Steve had his wits about him, he would be most interested in the fact that Eddie looks really fucking good in his worn old Black Sabbath tee and ripped jeans with his hair up, but as it is he is too busy reeling.

Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie’s eyes flit to all of the people in the room and connect the same dots that Steve did only moments ago. Eddie’s eyes finally land on Dustin’s open palm with his apparently custom DM dice and he goes to say “Oh shit! You found-”

“Your dice.” Steve finishes for him.

Again, he sees the moment Eddie remembers what he told the kids happened to his dice.

“My dice... Yeah.” He brings a hand up the scratch at the back of his neck.

All of the kids shake out of their shock at once with shouts and jeers of, “STEVE was the hookup?” and “Oh my god I can’t believe this is happening,” and from the girls, hushed giggles, the remaining adults all putting two and two together themselves.

Robin breaks the panic with, “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Rather than rehash the entire event in front of the kids, Steve finally launches back into action and grabs Eddie and Robin and drags them into the kitchen.

“Oh my fucking god!” Steve screeches, dragging his hands down his face.

He feels Eddie’s presence behind him and feels one arm snake around his waist and another come to rest where his thigh meets his hip, and warm lips dropping a kiss to his neck.

“Why are you freaking out, baby? This is honestly the best case scenario. I’ve been so nervous all day about meeting your kids, come to find out your kids are my kids,” Eddie speaks lowly into Steve’s ear and honestly? He does have a point. But-

“I think I’m mostly freaked out that they figured it out before I got to tell them. I was fully prepared to make an awkward introduction and wait for you guys to hit it off. I was not prepared for all of them staring at me asking if I was the hookup you left your dice with.” And now that he thinks about it, maybe the world hookup is the part that is bothering him the most.

Robin seems to have finally pieced together the puzzle, “Ohhh, shit. These are the kids that always come to your D&D nights. You know, I honestly should have put this together earlier. Especially after that time you came into work talking about your dice getting you into some super kinky sh-”

“Robs!” Steve cuts her off.

“Sorry!” She squeaks. “This is just all so funny to me. Like how did none of us put together that the obnoxious kids that play at your house are the same obnoxious kids that play at Hellfire?”

Eddie laughs over Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t even have an argument for that one. This seems like a massive oversight.” He says rubbing circles into Steve’s hips. “Well, at least we know your kids love your new boyfriend already,” and Steve just rolls his eyes, able to hear the smirk in Eddie's voice, “Nice save, Master.”

Steve shakes off a slack-jawed Eddie and makes to go back to join the kids. “Well, we may as well rejoin the kids and suffer through the impending torment.”

Robin and Eddie cackle behind him as they make their way into the living room.

Upon seeing the kids already in the throes of their game Steve just stands and looks out over the room at all of the people he loves and is once again, so grateful for each and every one of them and their ability to make him feel so effortlessly comfortable even at his most nervous.

He should’ve known better than to think Eddie would ever let him win though. He’s struck from his reverie, when he hears Eddie, in what is undoubtedly his dramatic DM voice, say, “Hey anklebiters! Do you guys need a Dad? I’m trying to un-single your mom!”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #fin gin #fic tag: #tip of my tongue #shot of gin #this might be rough i honestly haven’t looked at it in months #but it deserves some attention again #bc they’re idiots who love each other #SO much #also this post is code for: #i’m working on my big bang and am not writing anything else new for the time being #so we’re recycling #author does not know shit about dnd #so if this is wrong i literally do not care

[songbird-oracle]

Live thoughts watching Fantasy High Junior Year episode 5

Spoilers ahead

Im so nervous already about Cassandra

These dudes getting swole

It IS spicy tonight in the dome

Screaming

I WANT A BOGGY KISS

OH FUCK SHES HOLD MONSTERING KRISTEN

THE SECURITY COMING THROUGH OH SHIT

“Do you want me to kill that guy for you 👀” vibes

OH NO PLEASE NO NIGHTMARE KING OH NO OH NO

I’m Shittering my pants rn

No not the girlies!

Located in the astral mall, This place has *everything*. Ripped valley girls, a goddess and prophet and familiar going through a very tumultuous time in their relationship, a frog wearing a paper hat, and a weird ass clock

I live for the hangman banter

Oml I love the Yarrbucks coffee art

LOU HOLY SHIT

BOX OF DOOM DC5!? The stakes are seriously so high though

Okaaaaaaaay 13 works ig

“Does she need scratchies?”

Wooo Murph!!

THE STAR TALKS!?

I love Emily’s reaction to “banging out a 1st level spell”

Riz sadly flossing

Oh no Kristen oh no Cassandra!

No stop attacking Cassandra!!!!

🎶non-a-crits🎶

Thank goodness no failures

Break it up guys come ooooooooon

Damn, man needs strudel with sauce at a time like this

Profiling the minis 🤣

NOT THE TAP DANCING

“I don’t think you’re scared, I think you’re mad. And that’s okay” I’m sobbing

YES THE FUCKING SECURITY DETAIL

Kristen is so low, oh no

A 0 initiative 🥲

FUCK THIS IS WHAT RAGHS MOM ABSORBED!?!? Gorgug is the greatest wizard of our time

Abjurative grammar is prescriptive. Iykyk.

I knew the DC would be high

NAT 20 BEARDSLEY IN THE FUCKING HOUUUUUUUSE

YESSSSS HEALED CASSANDRA 😭

Oh fuck oh fuck bad stars

Let it out Cassandra, feel your feelings

Oh my goodness, philosophers scone

OOP PAUL BLART INTERGALACTIC MALL COP

It’s not the nightmare king??????

41 damage each, damn Adaine

We aren’t even half way through guys

BAHAHAHAHAHHA playful picking on Riz

Mass dispelling?? Damn

????? TUMMY ACHE SURVIVOR????

THE SHRIMP!!!!!!

Why is Fig a walking embodiment of Murphy’s law rn???

WHAT THE FUCK

NO NO NO DID GILEAR STEAL HER LUCK??????

IS THIS QUADRANGLE FUCKERY??????

Okay it’s just a curse

WAIT WHAT???

Cloaca why 😂

Whoopsies, shattered the shatter star

Oh fuck, rage Adaine is scary dude

Is this some rage and revenge deity??

Anyone but Conor

BAHAHAHAHAHA “no no, this is gonna happen”

“Stay hot Conor”

NOT KALINA NO

RAGH??????

Not the shimmy

WHAT IS KALINAS AC

44 DAMAGE??

Old Fabian

Legend has it the wizard is still waiting for his strudel with sauce

WHAT THE FUCK NO NOT CASSANDRA NO NO NO

“Unfortunately stop flossing”

COMPELLED DUEL ON KALINA OH FUCK

3!!!!! Woooooo!!!!!

Worst mall cop ever, Paul Blart would never

🤣 “is that not property damage??”

I’m so scared for Cassandra guys

Kristen and Cassandra are down oh no 🥲

BARDIC SHRIMPSPIRATION

NO NAT ONE NO NOOOOOOOO

Somewhere Katja Cleaver is raging because Conor Counterspell said he hates horses

A ball. Not *the* ball

ARMOR ZOMBIE AND LICH IM LIVING FIR THESE NAMES

Bards and Noble 🤣

Kristen coming in with the hugs

Box of doom has been working hard this episode

Shake out the bad ones

Screaming crying throwing up

I can’t look

Dammit Murph

Ecaf again

“What are you talking about girlieeeee?”

Brendan’s stare scares me

FUCK

Strudel for the win Girlie!!!

“One more roll girlie 🤪”

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no circle of death oh no

COUNTERSPELL MY BELOVED

“How old are you” “45” “gross”

WAIT WHAT TIME REVERSE TO- TEN SECONDS

Conor, you’re the best secret service agent ever

WHAT????? WHERES CASSANDRA??????

WHAT????????

I’m so fucking scared right now

Wait is Cassandra a triple goddess? Like how Hekate is a triple goddess, is Cassandra one? Cause Cassandra, Nightmare king, and a divine thing that isn’t a different divinity?

I want to enjoy “we got that bad boy buttered” but I can’t 🥲

Dead stare 🥲

I love Hangman 🥹

Feral Murph

NAT 20 SHRIMP JUMP

Thousand yard stare

Best shrimp jump ever

Maximum legend

That’s right, kick flip the system

Fuck KandyKorn Lullaby

See you at Basrars, I’ll be sobbing into my ice cream

#d20 fhjy #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 fhjy #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #Cassandra #d20 fantasy high #d20 #fantasy high

[grimtruthes]

Simon “Ghost” Riley

These are my head cannons for this bitch. Fight me if you don’t like them, my 4’11 ass will beat you into submission :)

Proof read but I make mistakes and 9 times out of 10 I miss them

Have fun reading

Simon “Ghost” Riley

This dude snores, and loudly or not at all and it doesn’t even sound like he’s breathing, or alive at that matter.

This guy’s sleeping schedule is all over the place as well, like he cannot get a normal 8 hours rest without waking up at least once. It has gotten to the point where he just expects it and sets his alarm to wake up that early and train before going back to bed for a little later.

Simon Riley has a hidden sweet tooth, he will eat anything slightly sweet just for the hell of it. Cookies? Gone. Brownies? Inhaled. That slightly sweet treat you were saving? You bet your ass Simon got ahold of it.

Simon definitely has gotten his clothes at Spencer’s or Hot topic before no doubt. Those gloves? Got them from Hot topic. and he has a secret matching pair of boxers 🤫

Simon absolutely hates coffee with a burning passion. He is only a tea drinker through and through. He tried drinking Price’s coffee once and he was sick for days. He vowed to never try any coffee ever again.

This guy loves dogs. So so much, if he ever were to retire I see him becoming a dog owner of multiple different breeds. All of their names would be after loved ones. Like Johnny, Kyle, Tommy, etc.

Simon swears he hated cats but the moment one comes up to him he’s a huge softie, picking them up and placing the cat into his sweater and keeping it warm and cozy. Without a doubt he would own a cat eventually and probably give it some stupid common name like “Luna” or “Garfield” or something like that.

Simon hates salty food, he isn’t too sure why himself but he just using a huge fan of salty food. Saltines and soup and stuff normally with a little salt is fine, but he won’t go out of his way to go and eat like soy sauce or any fish either. Or any type of salty meats like Ham, salami or specific types of sausages. He hates ham more than the dirt in his shoes.

Simon wears strictly black clothes if given the chance. Black to light gray are his favorite to wear without a doubt. He loves the color black so much all his gifts from other people always have something tied to the color black.

Simon has the music taste of a teenager who just found out who LINKIN PARK is: Breaking Benjamin, Staind, Three Days Grace, Skillet etc. if he could he would strictly listen to 2000’s rock music strictly

Simon is pretty gentle with kids surprisingly, he loves them actually. Always wanted kids himself but he never really got the chance considering he became a soldier right out of his butchers job and never cared much about romance or caring for another person besides his teammates.

He loves giving gag gifts all the time. It’s dumb but to him it’s the most hilarious thing ever, random non matching Socks, random shinny stones or bullet casings he found, gifts tied to inside jokes. He loves it all and gives them to the people he likes. On the other hand if he’s made to give a gift to some he hates, he will get the most generic brand cookies that are years old off the shelves of your common store and give them to that person.

Simon fucking Riley, will eat anything under the sun (given it’s not coffee or too salty) your mom’s cooking? He loves it, your burnt water ramen? He’s had worse. This asshole will steal you’re food then point and laugh at you.

His comfort food is mashed potatoes and gravy. He doesn’t even like gravy?? But yet gravy and potatoes are his favorite. Literally no one knows why.

#call of duty #cod #simon riley #headcanon #cod headcanons #Simon Headcannon’s #cod modern warfare #cod mw2

[neophele]

Mission: Glazed ~ haechan

Genre: homecook!haechan x gn reader, college!au, non idol!dreamies, fluff!!!! Words: 5k Warnings: none ! uhhh I can't cook so food and cooking descriptions are lacking ... I just described food I got from cafés recently >,< req: hi! can i make a request for haechan? say he’s a home cook or just really enjoys cooking as a hobby, reader/oc belongs in the same circle of friends as his and he invited his friend group for dinner at his place, and he kind of stresses out over the food he’s gonna cook cause he likes oc and really wants to impress them with his cooking. bonus if reader also likes pastry and desserts and has a hobby of making them as well, and haechan goes as far as asking the others what’s reader’s favorite dessert and “discreetly” makes that for everybody he says, but he really only did that for the reader and just really wants to impress them. i’m sorry this was so long 🥹 thank you so much! p.s. i love your works they make me giddy and smile hehe 👉👈

“Damn, Hyuck, that smells good,” Jeno inhales exaggeratedly through his nose, letting his senses enjoy the delicious smell wafting up from the tinfoil his friend is unfolding. Donghyuck can’t hold back the proud smirk on his face as his friends watch him, teasing them by unfurling the side of the tinfoil before wrapping it over again, eyes glinting with mischief as they deflate at his refusal to reveal the dish. 

“Just show us,” Renjun groans, smacking Donghyuck’s hand.

“Please,” you pout, and Donghyuck’s smirk drops into a genuine smile as his fond eyes fall on your pleading face. 

“Fine, since you asked nicely,” he grins at you, shooting you a wink as he reveals the neatly folded, though rather plain-looking, wrap. Everyone’s excitement drops at the reveal, a snigger coming from Chenle’s mouth as Donghyuck pouts disappointedly. 

“That’s it?” Jisung asks, eyes zoning in on Donghyuck’s lunch. 

“Well, yeah,” Donghyuck answers. “It smells good, though, right?” He grins, wafting the wrap around so that everyone gets a quick waft of the aromatic spices and secrets wrapped in the unsuspecting flour tortilla. 

“Four-hour marinated chicken, gently fried, my own kimchi-inspired secret sauce, on a bed of succulent salad,” he teases his friends sitting around the table, who can’t help perking up at the scent. “It tastes even better, I promise you,” he grins, watching as you lick and Jeno your lips; Renjun and Jisung gulp ever so slightly; and Mark makes no secret of his hunger with the pleading frown on his face. 

“Dude, just one bite!” Mark begs, hand reaching out across the table. “Hey! If he gets a bite, I want one, too,” Jeno groans. 

“Me too!” You pipe up with an eager voice, and Donghyuck wishes he could think of a good enough reason to let only you try it. 

“If I let everyone try it, then there won’t be any left for me,” Donghyuck holds firm, enjoying all eyes trained on him as he takes a large bite, the succulent meat and juicy sauce – if he had to say so himself – perfectly cooked with a blend of ingredients that gave it the right amount of kick to perk up his afternoon.

“Please,” you whine, pout still on your lips, Donghyuck’s heart almost bursting at how wide your sweet eyes have gone, the way your tongue darts across your lower lip as you salivate at his cooking sending another puff of hot air directly into his ego. Swallowing the bite, he pauses for a second as if thinking, though he’d never admit he’d already made up his mind and was just waiting for the perfect moment.

“How about this?” He offers, and everyone’s attention is forced onto Donghyuck yet again, the way his friends’ bodies are already leaning forward making him smirk yet again. “Everyone comes round on Friday, and I’ll cook a meal.” He 

“Oh,” Jisung says, deflated,  and everyone seems to lean back, realising no one’s getting a chance at tasting the dish in front of them. 

“What?” Donghyuck pouts, disappointed by the reaction. “I’m offering you all free food; be grateful!” 

“That’s suspicious,” Renjun glances at Donghyuck, eyebrows knitted. 

“You never cook for us, and we live with you,” Jeno adds, agreeing with Renjun.

“And Friday’s, like, four days away,” Mark groans. “I’m hungry now.” 

“That’s really nice of you to offer, Hyuck!” You, his saviour, burst into the scene of disappointment. With a bright smile and shining eyes, your excitement is a warm breeze coming through to drive away the grey clouds. You nod enthusiastically, smacking Jeno, who’s still bitterly pouting next to you, urging him to join your enthusiasm.

“Oh, yeah, uh, yeah!” Jeno fumbles, looking to you for the correct response before nodding along. 

With a dumb smile plastered on his face, Donghyuck takes another bite of his lunch, the crunch of the salad leaves complimenting the smooth sauce and tender strings of chicken. 

“Shit, we have to go to class anyway.” Mark’s head falls to his hands, and his palms are the only solace to his gnawing stomach. He rests for a moment before you come to his side, patting his head sympathetically. So kind, Donghyuck thinks. 

“Everyone, Friday then. Our place.” Jaemin affirms, his head raising from where it’d been leaning on the table, everyone slightly shocked that he was actually awake for the conversation. 

Murmurs of agreement diffuse across the table and you, Mark and Chenle pack your things up. 

“Y/n?” He calls, eyes trained on the hair that bounces across your forehead as you turn to face him, happily giving him a casual smile. 

“Mm?” 

“Bite,” he says, holding out his lunch across the table so you can try it. Donghyuck doesn’t usually like sharing his food –– but the way your eyes go wide and impossibly brighter, shining stars reflected off a sea of excitement as you look at him as if you’d just won the lottery –– he thinks maybe he can enjoy sharing if it’s with you.

“Thank you!” You grin, leaning forwards and taking a bite, contentment evident across your face, eyes blissfully shut as you chew. When you’re done, you let out a small sigh, a lazy grin appearing across your lips. “It’s so good! You’re the best, Hyuck” The grin plastered on your face sends boiling ice through Donghyuck’s veins, feeling more alive than ever at the way your eyes are full of happiness, trained on him.  

“Why does only y/n get some,” Mark pouts. 

Chenle grins, a teasing smile on his face as he raises an eyebrow at Donghyuck.  “Are they your favourite or something?” 

“They were the only one who’s actually excited about me offering to cook for you ungrateful brats,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, cool facade rising again. 

“See you!” You wave as Mark and Chenle drag you away, complaining about how unfair Donghyuck was and how they’re going to get McDonald's after class. Donghyuck offers a shy wave in return, gentle hand twisting slowly as he watches you turn away. 

When he turns back around, Jaemin is staring at him with a vicious smile. One arm resting flat against the table, leaning his head on his palm as he looks up at his friend. Jaemin raises his eyebrows up and down. 

“Shut up,” Donghyuck groans, turning away from Jaemin. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Jaemin informs him. 

“You did, with your eyes, and I’m telling them to be quiet.” 

“Okay, so I have four days to come up with the best, most ass-kicking meal I’ve ever cooked,” Donghyuck looks into the distance, staring out the window as he pours over the recipes in his head. He had a clear mission in mind, his expectations of himself doubling as he scoured the recesses of his brain for anything you might have mentioned as your favourite. You were his target, the one he wanted to impress. Ever the dramatic, he was not giving up this chance to make you fall from him, one bite at a time.

“It’s not that deep,” Jeno laughs, “We don’t have high expectations.” 

“Yes,” Donghyuck turns to Jeno and stares intently, expression conveying emotion far more profound than the boy across from him could understand in the situation, “It is that deep.” 

D-4 

Donghyuck wants to curse himself for not picking the one course he could have taken that overlapped with your choices. Outside of not sharing any classes, living on opposite sides of campus, and being generally busy students, the only chance he gets to see you during the week are lunches and free periods where your friends gather at your usual haunts. 

And even then, there are always other people around. It’s hard enough not to be too obvious, which arguably Donghyuck already is, but it’s even harder when you're laughing along to his stupid jokes, a melodic chuckle that he thinks he could imprint in his brain if he heard it enough. 

“So,” Donghyuck turns to you, swivelling in his chair. With one elbow on the table, propping up his head, he raises his eyebrows.

“So?” Your eyebrow piques, mimicking him and turning your body to face him, eagerly gifting him your undivided attention. 

“If you were going to die–”

“Who’s going to die?” Jeno interrupts in a panic, “not you, y/n, please, who else will remind me to wash my vegetables!” Jeno pouts at you, and Donghyuck lets out a ‘hmph’, eyes narrowing to a point. If looks could kill, it would be Jeno that was dying. 

“No, no, no-one’s actually dying,” you calm him. “I think,” you turn back to Donghyuck, allowing him to continue. The wry smile on your lips tells you that you find this amusing, and Donghyuck’s relieved.  

“Okay, first off, it’s a hypothetical question, dumbass.” Donghyuck continues. “So, if you were going to die, and you had one last meal – anything you want, no limits – what would you have?” 

Cocking your head to the side, you look up, pausing in thought. 

Jeno stares blankly in front of him, before speaking, monotone. “Beef burger.” 

“Oh, that’s a good question. I’d have lobster. Or caviar, truffles, gold-plated fries, anything expensive,” Chenle shrugs.

“Hot pot, obviously,” Renjun sneers, everyone clearly deciding that Donghyuck’s conversation which he intended to be private, was open to all. 

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Mark nods, deep in thought himself. 

“Y/n?” Donghyuck asks, looking at you. Your face, twisted in contemplation, eyebrows darkening over your eyes, lips pursued, growing pale with the pressure. 

“If I have my last meal, I die? So I shouldn’t choose, right?” You look at Donghyuck. The seriousness plastered on your features catches him off guard. “So I can’t tempt fate. I won’t pick.” With a firm nod, you lace your hands together in front of you.

Jeno nods in awe, Renjun and Mark laughing at your seriousness.

God, Donghyuck loves how cute you look with your face scrunched up in resolution, but he really wishes you were a little less imaginative with your answer. 

D-3

Donghyuck took his idea a little too far today, one might think. 

When he decided his best bet was a stealth mission, he picked out a sleek, all-black outfit, fitting for a spy. Before he left the house, he clasped his hands together in a finger gun, holding it upright as if awaiting his prey. He then turns swiftly, pointing his index fingers at his reflection in the hallway mirror, giving a small ‘pew’ sound as he pretends to shoot away his doubts.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Renjun asks from across the hallway. Donghyuck turns, guilty, looking at the boy with toothpaste staining the corner of his mouth as he glares from the bathroom doorway. 

Donghyuck drops his hands, turning on foot and walking out wordlessly. He wouldn’t understand. 

When he gets to the place you share with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung, it would be easy enough to knock, but no. Donghyuck likes to play games, so he pulls out his phone and dials your number.

“Hyuck? What’s up?” 

“Hey, I’m outside yours, are you in?”

“Oh yeah, Jisung said you were coming over to help him practice his presentation right?”

“Yep, could you let me in? I’ve been knocking for like five minutes.” It’s only a white lie, and it’s all for the greater good. Right?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear, give me a sec–“ the line cuts off, and in the time it takes for Donghyuck to shake away the last of his doubts, you’re opening the door. 

“Hi!” You beam, Donghyuck immediately wrapping you in a warm hug, which you return. Scented shampoo floats up his nose, and Donghyuck swears he might pass out if you weren’t there holding him up. 

“Hey, how’s my favourite occupant doing?” 

“Not bad,” you smile back, looking upstairs. “I’ll go get Jisung?” 

“He can take his time, I’m kinda hungry though, and by that I mean I'm moments away from dying of starvation.” 

The sweet melody of your laughter spins through Donghyuck’s head once again as you lead him to the kitchen, opening up your shelves. He peeks over your shoulder, trying to observe for any clues as to what might just be your taste. 

Barren shelves greet him, a few dented cans and a sad, almost empty packet of pasta looking as deflated as Donghyuck’s plan. 

“Yeah, I’m not much of a cook…” you chuckle sheepishly. “Um,” you search through some more shelves. 

“So what do you eat?” Donghyuck asks, attempting to be casual. 

“Mostly whatever Chenle cooks, and a lot of toast. And cereal,” you hold up a box of cornflakes. “Can I interest you in any corny goodness?” 

Donghyuck laughs, despite the pang of jealously that Chenle gets to cook fro you everyday, when it should be him. 

“I dunno if you’ve heard, but I’m a pretty good cook actually.” Donghyuck 

“Hmm, maybe–”

The lanky, six-foot-tall interruption is the only variable he didn’t account for. 

“Donghyuck, you’re here! Okay, you’ve gotta help me with this presentation man, I’m not prepared to be up there. What if I stutter, or like, piss myself, or something?” 

D-2

His next attempt was a day later, a few hours before class. He offered to meet you and Chenle halfway between your respective dorms and campus, bringing along a tired and grouchy Renjun to diffuse his anticipation, under the guise of an early morning coffee shop study session. 

“Look, look, they’re coming,” Donghyuck slaps Renjun’s chest, his friend groaning and shoving Donghyuck with all the energy he can muster – which isn’t a lot. 

“Tell me why I agreed to this,” Renjun. 

“Because I’m irresistible and you love me more than sleep.” 

“No, I think it’s because I have an exam coming up, and you said you’d pay for my coffee.” 

“Same thing.” 

Donghyuck’s heart pounds as you and Chenle get closer, the way you tip your head back in laughter at something the friend has said makes him a little bit jealous, and Donghyuck wishes it was him that made you laugh that hard.   

“Hey Hyuck, Renjun,” you wave, strolling closer. 

Target locked, he takes in every detail of your face before extending his arms to pull you into a hug.

The slight tiredness in your eyes betrays how late you’ve been up, and he can’t help but softly pat your back and sway slightly, languishing in the contented hum you make as your tired form leans into his chest. When you break away and move towards Renjun, Chenle looks at him expectantly, and Donghyuck draws the younger into his arms too, though with slightly more fierceness in his grip. 

The walk to the cafe is short, with lingering laughter and moans of tiredness. Donghyuck’s palms are slightly clammy, and he rubs them on his jeans as he holds the door open for you to pass through, letting go and earning a groan from Chenle as he catches the door mid-swing. 

“Ass,” Chenle mumbles. 

“So, y/n, what’s your poison?” Donghyuck jokes, motioning to the coffee board in front of you. 

“For days like today? Double espresso cappuccino.”

“Anything to eat? Might give you some more energy, if the double espresso isn’t enough.”

“God, as much as I love pastries, if I have any sugar I won’t be able to focus.” 

Pastries. He locks onto that piece of information, hell-bent on using it to his advantage. 

“What would you usually get?” 

“Maybe a cinnamon roll? I like strawberry tarts but they don’t serve them here.” 

“Oh, so you like fruitier flavours?” 

“Uh, I guess? I love strawberries, but only if they aren’t too overcooked, I like them a little bit firm, but it’s so hard to get that right.” Your brows furrow slightly as if the strawberries that had disappointed you were plaguing your mind. Donghyuck smiles proudly, 

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I happen to be one hell of a pastry chef too.” He grins.

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ proudly. It’s his turn in line, and before he can get a word out to the barista, Renjun is beside him. His painstaking efforts have gleaned one piece of information, putting him on top of the world. 

“I’ll have an extra strong caramel macchiato, and whatever the most expensive thing to eat here is.” Renjun nods at Donghyuck, then back to the barista, “he’s paying.” With a smirk, Renjun disappears, patting your shoulder and mumbling something about finding a good table. 

At that moment, even Renjun’s draining of his wallet couldn’t bring him down.

When the drinks are ordered and everyone’s shed their outer layers, sat at the table with warm mugs in hand and the fleeting remainders of the intention of studying slipping from mind, you nudge Donghyuck with your elbow.

“So you’re buying Renjun’s drinks now, hm?” You joke at Donghyuck, who nearly chokes on his sip of coffee. 

“What?” Chenle gasps from across the table. “Is he your favourite now or something?” 

“We all know that spot is reserved for y/n,” Renjun scoffs. 

The flush in your ears and the way you turn away slightly don’t go unnoticed by Donghyuck, who beams. He can’t help but take it as a challenge, throwing one arm around your shoulder and revelling in the way you relax slightly into his grasp.

“Not my fault y/n’s weak for me, I’m just returning the favour.”

Chenle snorts, “more like they’re afraid of you,” Renjun scoffing along with him. 

Donghyuck feigns being hurt, one hand clutching his chest as he leans into your shoulder, burying his head there and fake-crying as you laugh along, soothing him with a hand stroking his hair. 

“Hyuck’s a big softie, it’s Renjun we need to be afraid of,” you grin. 

“Okay, well, when he poisons us all on Friday, I’ll tell you I told you so,” Renjun shoots back. 

Donghyuck finally brings his head back up, his arm sliding down to rest on the back of your chair, keeping the slight point of contact he desperately wants to make a permanent feature of your relationship. 

“Speaking of, what are you cooking?” Chenle pipes up. 

“Yeah! I want to know,” you beam, turning to Donghyuck and giving him a toothy grin that all but melts his heart. 

“That, my friends” he taps his nose, acting mysterious. “Is a secret.” 

And as everyone boos, calling Donghyuck out for being disorganised and not making his mind up about what to cook, he smiles smugly. It was a secret, and it was your secret he was going to find out. 

D-1

He’s out of options. He’s sweating, panicking, terrified. 

“Mark, man, you’ve gotta help me out here,” Donghyuck sighs through the phone. 

“What?” Mark’s groggy voice responds. 

“You gotta help me, I’m freaking out.”

“What? Are you okay? You need picking up, what’s wrong dude?” 

“I’m in a mess. I wanted to cook something to impress y/n tomorrow, but I can’t figure out what they like and I’m screwed, what if I cook their least favourite meal? Then they hate me forever, and everything is ruined,” 

“Slow down, wait, wait.” Mark pauses. “You want to cook y/n’s favourite meal, so that they’ll like you?” The older boy is almost laughing at this point. 

“Shut up,” Donghyuck groans. “I know, I’ve been trying to find out all week, but my plans kept going wrong.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask to begin me to begin with? I eat with y/n every day, I know their palate pretty well.” 

“Stop bragging about it and just tell me,”

“Well, first off, Italian food. They’re not super picky or into anything fancy, a good pasta dish would be your best bet.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. Finally. “Yes, and,” he urges Mark. 

“You owe me,” 

“Yes, anything, just tell me!” 

“So strawberry tarts, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck nodded eagerly.

“So, the glaze on the top, like when it’s perfect and snaps a bit, and the strawberries aren’t overcooked, that’ll make y/n go crazy,” Mark chuckles. 

“Mark. I could kiss you right now.” 

“I’ll pass, you can save that for y/n.” 

The Day. 

When it hit 1PM, Donghyuck kicked his housemates out of the kitchen, several grocery bags in hand and a look of fear on his face. Renjun wanted to make a snide comment but didn’t have the heart when he saw the bags under Donghyuck’s eyes and his ravaged lower lip. 

It was quiet, for the most part. And when Donghyuck was quiet, that was a bad sign. 

When his other friends arrived, the door was still closed, and the steam coming from beneath the door was all that greeted them. 

“He’s… in the zone,” Renjun explained, pulling everyone. 

“Hyuck! Everyone’s here!” Jeno called through the door. A moment of silence, a loud crash, followed by “shit” and “give me a minute,” breaking through the door. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the closed door.

“He takes cooking seriously, I guess?” Mark shrugged. 

“That’s one thing at least,” Renjun adds. 

“Okay!” Donghyuck opens the kitchen door, gesturing inside. “The best meal of your lives awaits,” 

“Cute,” you giggle, raising your eyebrows at his dishevelled hair and splattered apron as everyone files inside, bemoaning their empty stomachs. 

“Huh? Oh,” Donghyuck hurriedly smooths down his hair and grins, “gotta look the part.”

He leads you in, Mark giving Chenle an elbow to leave two empty seats next to each other, which Donghyuck takes. Pulling out the chair, he motions to it, offering you the place. The slight flush in your ear, as you sit down sends butterflies through Donghyuck’s veins, his stomach doing summersaults in anticipation. 

“Okay. This,” Donghyuck removes the lid from the large pot in the centre of the table with a flourish, “is carbonara” 

“Carbonara,” Jaemin repeats, exaggeratedly rolling his r’s. 

“Pass me your plates,” Donghyuck takes your plate from in front of you, serving you first. The flourish of his wrist as he twists the spaghetti is practised, and the rounding of your mouth as you watch is exactly the desired effect. Soon, food is on all the plates, and mouths are salivating. Eyes look to Donghyuck, expectantly. 

“What are you waiting for?” He scoops up a forkful from his own plate. “Dig in.” 

Nobody speaks, the loudness of clattering utensils and chewing mouths all that fill the room. Nervously, Donghyuck eyes his friends, surreptitiously analysing their faces for signs of disgust, amazement, anything. 

“This is so good, Hyuck,” you turn to him first, eyes wide as your hand covers your equally wide mouth. 

“Really?” The desperation in his voice bleeds through more than he would have liked, but he can’t help it when your adoring face is praising the fruits of his – painstaking, he might add – labour. 

“Yeah!” You swallow, and place a hand on his leg. “This is like, the best carbonara I’ve ever had, it’s so hard to get right. You’re incredible!”

“Yeah, Hyuck, you’re pretty good,” Chenle agrees. 

Mark’s eyes are wide, clearly surprised. “I didn’t realise you were this good, dang! This is, like, restaurant quality.” 

“So, Donghyuck cooks every night?” Jaemin adds in. 

Praise from his friends is nice, but all that echoes in Donghyuck’s head are your warm words and your even warmer touch. Giddy, he can’t control the grin on his face as he naturally turns to you, the upturned corners of your mouth relaying your happiness. 

Everyone eats, conversation flows naturally, wine is poured and faces split into smiles. 

When plates cleared and stomachs full, Donghyuck glances around his friends’ faces, lazy smiles echoing around the room feeding his ego. The content, sleepy look on your face was all Donghyuck needed to know he had succeeded. Leaning back in your chair with a crumb on the corner of your mouth, head tilted to the side as you giggled along to the conversation that Donghyuck wasn’t even bothering to listen to, you looked too perfect for anything else to be worth paying attention to. 

“C’mere,” Donghyuck motions to you, and you lean up, trusting him entirely as you turn to face him. 

He reaches over, thumb gently swiping over your lower lip to remove the crumb. Someone wolf-whistles, and you immediately turn away, shy. 

Donghyuck ignores it, already feeling victorious. His meal was a success, you’d sung his praises, and to top it off, dessert was about to be served. 

“Next up, we have–“ he pauses for dramatism, before uncovering the plate “–strawberry tarts,” he passes the plate around the table, handing out the sweet treats. He saves one especially for you, the one with the reddest strawberries and shiniest glaze. 

The dessert is crisp, the pastry melting in your mouth as the still-firm strawberries covered in sugar soak your tastebuds, slight citrus in the crunchy glaze, just right. 

“This is delicious, Hyuck,” you sigh. “Nowhere cooks strawberry tarts like this, I can never find anywhere that does them this well!” 

Donghyuck doesn’t answer, overtaken with the genuineness of your words. 

“If you like it that much, I guess I’ll just have to make it for you again.” He shrugs, acting nonchalant, as if his heart wasn’t pounding through his ribs. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he scoffs, impulsive taking over and the words spilling from his heart. 

“Anything?” You ask, redness creeping up the back of your neck. Like the strawberry dessert in front of you, ears pink dusted and glazed with the sweetness of the boy in front of you. 

Donghyuck, for once in his life, is at a loss for words. How could he not do anything for you?

“This wasn’t enough for you to see that?” He chuckles, gesturing to the table in front of him. His voice is lowered, slightly bashful as he tries to keep the prying ears away from your private conversation. 

“Wait–” you halt, realisation hitting you at full force. “This is… my favourite,” you gesture at the dessert in front of you. 

“Yeah, you told me in the cafe that day, but I had to call Mark to find out for sure.” Donghyuck rubs the back of his neck. 

“You did this….” 

“To impress you, yeah it’s embarrassing, I know.” 

“No, Hyuck, it’s,” your shoulders relax, leaning forward to soak in his aura. “It’s really, really kind of you,” the falter in your words is all it takes for

“It sounds like you're going to add a ‘but’ in there. Please don’t let there be a but,” Donghyuck groans, hiding his face in his hands. Fuck. Even if he had impressed you, it didn’t mean you liked him back. He’d kidded himself into thinking this meal was the ticket to your romantic affections, the edge he needed to push himself from the brink of a friend to something more. 

“No, I just…” You shake your head, leaning away. 

In the moment of quiet, laughter ebbs from the other side of the table, the conversation your friends are joined in clearly going better than the one you two are engaged in. 

“Donghyuck,” you touched his arm lightly, gently. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’” Donghyuck is stunned. 

“I mean why,” you search his eyes for answers, the confused look mirroring your own ending only in more questions. 

“Why? Y/n, why?” He gestures vaguely, chin tilting upward in indignation. “You really don’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I like you,” he spills the truth. 

Hesitation crackles, the silence slipping desperately close to awkward. Donghyuck wants to hide, run away, and never be seen again. He watches as your eyes go from confused and focused, to wide and dreamy. 

“You?” One finger points to Donghyuck. “Like me?” The finger turns to yourself. 

“Yeah.” Donghyuck’s voice is weak, the weakest it’s ever been. Always one to quip, always argue back, have a snide comment or weaponised joke tucked behind his lips, for once, he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Me…” you repeat, still pointing to yourself. 

Donghyuck hurries to clear it up, waving his hands in front of me, trying to act casual in the disaster that was spiralling out of his control. “You don’t have to like me back, I’ll get over it, it’s whatever–” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, idiot? I’ve liked you since that time you spent a week walking round trying to interview everyone for the podcast you swore was going to be the next big thing!”

With no time wasted, your lips crash against his, a needy but tender kiss that fills more certainty in both of your hearts than any word could. One of your hands leans on Donghyuck’s chest, steadying yourself against his relaxing heartbeat. One of his hands is on the back of your neck, drawing you closer, holding you against him as he hopes to keep you for as long as he can.

Jisung’s voice enters your heads, deep tone breaking through the quiet high of your first kiss. “Did I miss something?”

#nct fluff #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #nct dream oneshots #nct oneshots #nct fic

[munson-blurbs]

Hi, Buggy.

Argyle smut request. He lets you play with his hair. You give it a little tug accidentally, and things get a little out of hand. I trust you, bb. Make us swoon.

E, I had way too much fun writing this. I hope you and all the other Argyle girlies (gn) enjoy!

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), hair-pulling, kinda sub!Argyle, friends-to-lovers

WC: 1.7k

--

The wind whips through the air, an impending storm brewing beyond the gray clouds. It rattles the windows in your old apartment building, and you send up a silent prayer that no trees come down this time.

You barely hear the buzzer sounding over the strong gusts, and your visitor has to ring twice before you pace over to the intercom. “Who is it?”

“‘S me,” Argyle’s relaxed voice trills over the speaker, and butterflies instinctively fill your stomach. “Brought you some pizza from work that no one came to pick up.”

You smile, although he can’t see it. “My hero! I couldn’t figure out what to do for dinner.” You buzz him in, smoothing down the creases in your sundress before he gets to your door. You open it and almost burst out laughing. 

“Args!” you manage through your giggles. 

“Wha?” Could he really not know?

“Your hair!” His waist-length, raven-black locks are completely tousled by the wind, starting to form knots at the back of his head. “C’mere, sit on the floor and I’ll untangle it for you.” You take the pizza box from his hands and place it on the coffee table, shaking your head in disbelief at his unruly hair. 

You lean forward on the couch as he sits between your legs, grabbing a slice from the box and chewing on it while you attempt to unravel the knots. Your deft fingers work through the tangles quickly until they catch a stubborn one, snagging it harshly. 

Before you can apologize, a noise escapes his lips. Was that a…no, it couldn’t be…

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” 

Argyle shakes his head. “N-No, you’re fine. Sauce was just kinda hot…burned my tongue.”

“You sure? Because it sounded like you…um, Args?”

He shakes his head, effectively undoing all of your hard work. “Nope, don’t ask me.”

 He takes a massive bite of pizza, but you press on. 

“Is that something you’re into? Hair pulling, I mean?” A smile curls your lips upwards as he buries his head in his hands. Jackpot. 

“Don’t tell anyone, please?” The words are muffled by his palms pressed to his face, but you can still hear the embarrassment in his voice. 

You nod. “Of course. It’ll be our little secret.” You mean it, but you’re also his best friend. A best friend who has been harboring a huge crush on him, despite the fact that he seemingly flirts with anyone besides you. And so, before you can stop yourself, you give his hair an intentional tug. 

Argyle whips around at the sensation, body tensing as he tries to fight off his natural urges. “Dude, please don’t do this to me,” he mutters. 

“Do what?” You’re playing with fire and you know it, but you can’t stop yourself. He just looks so flustered and sweet and kissable. 

“This,” he emphasizes his point by gesturing at his hair. “Y’know, get me all turned on and shit.” He’s once again refusing to make eye contact with you. 

The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “What if I want to turn you on?” Your voice is low, barely audible, but he catches every last syllable. 

“Y-You want to?”

You nod, swallowing your fear as you confirm the way you feel about him. The way you hope he feels about you. “Only if you want me to.”

Argyle pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling his waist, trapping his thighs between yours. The mere contact it brings elicits a deep breath from him as he steadies your hips with his big hands. “Are we really doing this?” Is he asking you or himself? Neither of you know. 

“No going back now.” And with that, you kiss him deeply, lacing your fingers through his hair. The plush of his lips parts yours as your noses nudge one another. His tongue tastes of his signature scent of weed and pineapple, making you smile. 

Argyle notices this, and you feel his lips curling upwards as well. Holy shit, you’re kissing your best friend. The man you’ve had a crush on since your shitty date stood you up for senior prom and Argyle swooped in and took you. That night, while you swayed back and forth on the gymnasium-turned-dance floor, you swore you’d kiss him. But then you’d wimped out. 

Now is your chance to make the moment right. 

You roll your hips over his tented pants and he fists the fabric of your sundress where it hits your waist, but you push his hands down to your ass. He squeezes harshly, so entranced by the feel of your body that he can’t even think straight. He moans again, a bit louder this time, and the sound makes you even wetter. 

“You make pretty sounds, Argyle,” you murmur against his mouth. “Those all for me?”

“Mhm. All for you,” he echoes, kissing you with a franticness you’ve never seen from him. It’s like he’s worried that it’s a dream and he’ll wake up before the best part. 

You scoot back slightly so you can brush your hand over his clothed erection, and he inhales sharply. “This all for me, too?” you whisper. 

“Fuck, princesa. Yes, ‘course it’s all f’you.”

You pull his yellow Surfer Boy Pizza shirt off and Argyle pulls off your dress, leaving you in just your lace thong.  He grips your ass even harder and rubs you over him while he brings his lips down to one nipple and sucks on it. 

“‘M so hard already, shit,” Argyle mumbles, leaving a tiny bruise along at the top of your breast. 

“Let me help you.” You unbutton his pants and he lifts his hips slightly so you can wriggle off his boxers, exposing his perfect cock. It’s long and thick, pre-cum dribbling down the tip as it rests against his happy trail. “Poor thing,” you tease. “All this from a little hair pulling?”

He shakes his head, long strands of hair tickling your bare chest. “N-No, ‘s from you. Gorgeous little thing, grindin’ up against me like that.” His hand snakes around his shaft and he strokes it languidly, just to relieve a bit of the pressure. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You lean in even though there’s no one else around. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

Argyle throws his head back against the sofa cushion, exhaling with a huge grin. “Me, too. Thought about it a million times.”

“Yeah?” you tease. “Did you think about me doing this?” You tug on his hair again with more force this time, though not enough to actually hurt him. 

“Yes, holy fuckin’--yes. Please keep doin’ that, princesa.” He spits on his dick and starts pumping it faster, and you know exactly what he’s desperate for. 

“Wanna be inside me, Args?” you coo. 

“Mhm, yes, yes, please. ‘S all I want.” 

You shift your panties over, feeling the cool air on your pussy, and line Argyle up with your needy hole. The expression on his face when you slowly sink onto his cock is nothing less than pure bliss. His eyes flutter and he bites his lower lip trying to hold back a smile, but you still catch it. 

“How’s that?” It’s a silly question, but you crave his praise while he’s inside you. 

“S’good, fuck, y’feel so warm an’ tight. C-Can you bounce on my cock? Please?”

You press a light kiss right below his earlobe. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Argyle immediately helps you ride him, pulling you all the way up until only the tip is inside your pussy. You bring yourself back down, feeling him fully within you, before the process repeats again and again. The friction is delicious, and you could swear that he was made to fill you. 

His deep, sultry voice disrupts your thoughts. “I’ve always thought you were so goddamn beautiful, y’know that?” he confesses, eyes gazing into yours before he resumes watching your tits heaving with each thrust. 

“Really?”

“Mhm. First time I saw you, I told my friends—holy fuckin’ shit—told them that I was gonna make you mine.”

You can’t help but giggle at this. “Args, that was, like, a million years ago.”

He kisses you, bringing his hands to your cheeks and pulling you close. Your riding slows a bit without his assistance, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Can’t put a timestamp on love, baby.” His deep brown eyes widen when he realizes what he’s implied. “I mean—”

“I love you, too,” you admit, bracing your hands on his sweat-dampened chest. “Have for the longest time.”

Argyle smiles, peppering your face with kisses until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely see. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, amor.” He bucks his hips with more vigor, cock twitching against your walls and bringing you barreling towards your orgasm. You feel your pussy clench around him as you let out panting breaths. 

“‘M close, n-not gonna last…” he whimpers, and his neediness is what does you in. 

“S’okay. I’m on the pill, if you wanna…”

“Shit…YES!” Argyle cries, holding your hips down as he brings the two of you to your releases. “Fuck fuck FUCK, ‘m cumming—”

You bite onto his shoulder, pulling his hair as the two of you finish together. He spills into you while you cum on his cock, chanting his name in utter pleasure. 

It’s not until you’re leaning against his chest, movements stilled as your heart rate begins to slow, that he softly asks, “You…you really love me, too?”

“Args,” you sigh incredulously, twirling a strand of his hair around your forefinger, “I’ve had a crush on you for forever, but you never seemed to feel the same way.” All those nights where he didn’t make a move, not even an attempt to hold your hand or put an arm around you. 

“No, I did! I swear,” he insists. “I just…didn’t wanna ruin things.”

You consider this, more than acutely aware that he’s still inside you and isn’t doing anythint co change that. It’s like he wants to keep you as close as possible for as long as he can “Can I tell you another secret?”

“Course, amor.” He trails small kisses up the side of your neck, and you feel your nipples beginning to pebble with the telltale sense of arousal. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’d let you ruin me whenever you want.”

--

#requests #argyle x y/n #argyle stranger things #argyle imagine #argyle smut #argyle #argyle x female reader #argyle x fem!reader #argyle x you #argyle x reader #argyle fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic

[therealgchu]

Anamnesis - The Crush

new story up for Anamnesis called The Crush. it's the story of sam bringing home his crush when he was 15.

as keeping with the image above, this is all very sweet and wholesome. i mean, c'mon, the kid is 15.

btw, if you're wondering what anamnesis means, it's greek, and generally means recalling of memory.

if you want to read the first in the series, it's here on ao3.

the rest of my stuff is here.

being 15 sucks sneak peek

Despite having the desk furthest from the classroom door, Sam was the first out when the lunch bell rang. He almost sprinted to Chunks and got his usual lunch order: eggs, beef, chicken, potato, special sauce, and cheesecake for dessert. He then dashed to the top of the city walls where he could assemble his grotesque sandwich in peace, and imagine he was out past Akila City finding things Solomon had never found. All of the guards knew him, and since he didn’t cause any trouble up there, they let him be.

“Hey,” a voice said behind his back. He whipped his head around and saw Joe, hands shoved in his pocket looking out at the view. “You come up here a lot?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted.

“Nice. Nice view. Beats that shitty schoolyard.”

“Yeah.”

“So, a Coe, huh?” Joe asked, cocking his eyebrows.

Sam blushed again, “It’s not a big deal, OK?”

“Yeah, I get it. Family sucks,” Joe said.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it does.” He paused, looking out past the walls, “You cool? I mean about me being a Coe?” he asked.

Joe shrugged. “Can’t help who your family is. We’re cool.”

“Good, good,” Sam nodded.

Joe moved to stand beside Sam, causing Sam to have an explosion of butterflies in his stomach. The other boy looked at Sam’s food and scrunched up his face. “What are you eating?” he asked disgustedly.

Sam grinned, “The Sam Special. Your favorite Chunks, smash them together, little bit of secret sauce, and you get the best damn sandwich this side of the Settled Systems,” he said proudly.

“Oh god, you eat that shit?” Joe asked in disbelief.

“It’s great! Try it!” Sam offered the Sam Special to Joe. “I dare ya,” he added.

“This is your lunch?”

“Every day,” Sam said proudly.

Joe eyed the food warily. He picked up the sloppy concoction, and took a small bite, and immediately gagged. “Oh, god!” Joe exclaimed, spitting out the food over the other side of the wall.

Sam laughed uproariously, “You gotta have a stronger stomach than that!” he roared, shoving the rest of the “Sam Special” in his mouth. Joe took out a Boom!Pop pouch and drank the whole thing down in one draft. “What do you have for lunch?” he asked the other boy.

Joe pulled out a wrapped up sandwich from his coat pocket. Despite being squashed, it was clear that it was nicely wrapped and well made. The boy unwrapped it, and Sam could see that it was a reuben. His mouth started watering. “My mom still makes me lunch. Pretty lame,” Joe said. He saw Sam’s eyes, and offered half the sandwich to him. “Here,” he said.

Sam’s hand started to move, but then held back. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m sick of them. She makes them every day. Go ahead.”

Sam gladly took the sandwich and wolfed it down. “It’s only me and my old man, and he’s a terrible cook,” Sam said, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Where’s your mom?” Joe asked.

Sam swallowed the remaining sandwich and looked down, running his hands through his long hair. “Umm,” he started.

“Oh man, she run off or something?” the other boy asked.

Sam shook his head, “No, she died when I was seven.”

“Shit, I’m really sorry. That sucks.”

Sam shrugged, looking at the horizon, “It’s not a big deal,” he said, trying to be cool.

Joe slapped him on the back, “No, man, really. That sucks bad. I bitch about my mom, but she’s actually OK. I’d miss her if she was gone.”

Sam smiled gratefully at the other boy. “Thanks, dude.”

“Not a problem. Just, don’t make me eat that shit any more,” Joe said and play punched Sam in the shoulder.

#starfield #sam coe #fanfic #fanfiction #anamnesis #the crush #original character #starfield oc #starfield au #back story #flashback #therealgchu writes

[iboatedhere]

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday.”

TK sets the phone on speaker and puts it down on the counter so he can dig through the cupboard with both hands. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells Paul. 

“I totally meant to but then the mayor had this thing and I felt a little weird ducking away on my first week on the job…” 

“Dude, I said don’t worry about it–ah! Found you,” he says as he pulls out the jar of peanut butter and twists open the top. “Ugh. Is peanut butter supposed to separate into liquid and chunks?”

“Is it chunky peanut butter?” Paul asks.

“Not according to the label.”

“Don’t eat that, TK.”

“Well then I have no breakfast.”

“Go grocery shopping.”

“That is easier said than done,” TK tells him as he drops the jar into the trash. “Anyway, congrats on starting your new job, happy for you, not upset that you didn’t call, I probably wouldn’t have picked up anyway.”

“Wild night?”

“Yes and no. I went out with Ethan and those guys—.” He pauses to let Paul groan. “And then they all ditched me—.” Another pause so Paul can groan even louder. “And then, Carlos took me out to this barbecue place that had amazing food and dancing—.”

“Wait–,” Paul interrupts. “Carlos as in Agent Carlos Reyes? When did the switch to the first names happen?”

“I guess something about watching me get my heart stomped on in public softened him to me. We’re friends, I guess. Friendly, at least. I don't know, but last night something happened…”

“Something bad?”

“Something…I don’t know. There was a moment last night when we were dancing–.”

“What kind of dancing?”

TK rolls his eyes. “What does that matter?”

“I want to know if you were grinding on your secret service agent, I feel like that’s important to the story.”

“It was line dancing, okay, there was no grinding. We barely even touched until this moment at the end where I bumped into this guy and Carlos got weird. He yanked me against his side and I thought we could kiss right now.”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the call until Paul sighs. “So it was something bad.”

“Why is that bad?”

“Because he’s your secret service agent,” Paul stresses, “and he works for your mother, and your life is in his hands on a daily basis.”

“He has nice hands,” TK notes and Paul makes a distressed sound. “He does. He was licking barbecue sauce off of them all night…it was hot. What do you expect from me, I’m only human with a strong pull toward oral fixation.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“Whatever,” TK says, “you’re just jealous I never wanted to makeout with you.”

“Everyone wants to makeout with me,” Paul corrects. “You know you can’t do anything about this, right?”

“I wonder if he would’ve tasted sweet like the tea we were drinking or spicy from the sauce.”

“TK, you can’t.”

“I know,” TK tells him. “I get it, I really do and I would never act on it. I don’t even know if I want to act on it or if I’m just upset about Alex and trying to move on and Carlos is just the guy that happens to be there.”

“I think that’s a good possibility.”

There’s a knock on the front door and TK grabs the phone. “I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t climb into his lap while we’re in the back of the car–oh god.”

“What?”

“Do you think there’s cameras here? Do you think they bugged my house for security reasons and he’s been listening to this conversation the whole time?”

“No, I don’t, but I do think there’s an NSA agent that’s been listening to this call the whole time.”

“Hello NSA Agent,” TK jokes and Paul laughs. “Are you hot? Do you want my tongue in your mouth?”

With Carlos on his mind, TK stops to look through the peephole. There’s no one there, and TK frowns as he unlocks and opens the door. 

There’s a plain brown package on the front step with his name and addressed typed in bold font and taped to the top. It’s too early for anyone to be out and about, but down the end of the street a FedEx truck rattles as it turns left onto 33rd. 

TK leans down to grab the package but a feeling of dread passes over him before he gets more than halfway. 

“Paul,” he says as he straightens up. “There’s a package on my front steps.” 

“Okay.”

“I’m not expecting anything.” 

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #wip wednesday #secret service au

[polyhexian]

Since Raine was a teacher I think once they have Hunter living in their home they would immediately start to notice the signs of abuse. They would probably have issues with Hunter eating the normal amount of food for a kid his age because Belos starved him and also Hunter probably wouldn’t really be a big fan of something like pasta with sauce but wouldn’t say anything because he’s too nervous to make Raine unhappy with him so he doesn’t really eat much despite being underweight.

Hunter would probably go stiff if they put a hand on his shoulder or flinch if they heard them in anyway upset with him.

Hunter would probably take all of Raine’s suggestions on what to do while in the house at orders and carry them out with military precision even if Raine just suggested they watch a cartoon on the crystal ball.

Hunter probably has a lot of nightmares too so Raine would wake up to him screaming in his sleep.

Like Raine had hunter for a short while and the whole time it’s just one terrible revelation of what a monster Belos truly was after another.

raine definitely starts off worried about what the fuck jasper wants with this minor but i mean really theres better ways to Steal A Child, it being this SPECIFIC child who is VERY difficult to steal ironically makes it less suspicious like. okay. legitimately what is your game. and also like again despite the fact raine has seen him throw this kind on his ass a hundred times, theyve also seen him fucking vaporize one of their allies for trying to kill him so like. truly. what is his game here.

and then like. once they see how truly BAD it is with hunter, the way he flinches, how DEEP the soldier persona goes, the food and the sleep and the isolation- then its like. well, fuck, i would have wanted to help him too. so 1. how did the martlet know about all this before anyone else, because he CLEARLY knew about all this before anyone else did 2. why didnt he just tell me the truth? 3. why DIDNT he just take him and run?

i think theyre putting pieces together and while they probably have multiple theories- they might not know about the grimwalker stuff yet, but they know this kid is an orphan and related to the emperor, they know he was found the day the previous golden guard died, they know the martlet has the same colour hair as hunter, they've seen it, they know hes incredibly protective of him, they know the martlet is scarred as fuck and an incredible combatant AND a high level magic user despite never using magic- once they find out hunter cant use magic without a staff? click, dude. thats probably genetic! this guy has been around about as long as the previous GG has been gone. he looks like hunter, he's protective of hunter, he never uses magic without a staff, and the second raine asks darius about the previous GG, knowing they were close, "hey, did you ever see that guy use magic without a staff?" that seals the deal dude. raine has clocked that motherfucker from a mile away.

only now like. thats a NEW concern. okay, cool! parent. got it. well that explains his intentions. but now like- wow, he HAS hit this kid a lot, even if his motivations were clearly rescuing him. can he even be TRUSTED with him? would hunter be healthy living with this guy? is he even capable of living like a normal person? he still wont take off his stupid fucking mask or tell them his stupid fucking name! and oh, fuck- if he's the previous gg, he's done some VILE shit. should they be doing something about HIM?

darius and raine im sure have a very exciting conversation putting all the jigsaw pieces together before they realize that jasper isn't dead, jasper is the martlet, jasper is a powerless witch, jasper has a son, and holy shit is that son fucked up and in dire need of help.

meanwhile jasper is like ho ho i am sooooo good at lying and secrets absolutely no one suspects anything

[savebatsfromscratch]

Hockey Watching - Palletshipping Week 1 (Roommates)

Summary:

Gary and Ash watch a hockey game together. (Au notes in final note in ao3 version, I put them at the top in this one.)

Notes:

Prompt: Roommates Note: The first thing I went to was watching a Hockey game together. …for some reason. I kinda made up my own Pokemon world teams, but feel free to imagine your favorite team I guess. (Though if it’s not the Sabers I don’t want you here. /light hearted) Also, for the record, they’re kind of American coded in this one. Whoops. I apologize for this look into my mind. Cws: Surprise kiss, sort of nonsensical writing Words: 1,791

End Notes:

…dude this is such a mess. (<- did not even try to edit it.)   Here’s a fun secret, I headcannon Blake (from Pokemon Adventures) as a Hockey player, and I made his number his dexholder number! :D I also headcannon Jun (from Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure) as a Hockey player, and I made his number “3” because he has three total pokemon lol. I also put Hareta (from the same series) on his team and made him number “1” because that’s the number of my favorite Sabers goalie. :3 I also Headcannon Barry and Jun as triplets (the third being Pearl from Pokemon Adventures.) I also had to make up a last name for both Jun and Blake. For Jun I gave him “Aemilius,” because I went the roman route and it “was originally derived from the Latin word aemulus, which referred to equal or rival.” (iGENEA) And I gave Blake Rasmussen because it starts with an “r” sound and so does his Japanese name AND Rasmussen would look SICK on a Hockey jersey.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54803911

Prompts from here: @/shigerussato

Fic under the cut!

Gary plopped down on the couch in front of the already flickering TV, one hand clutched around a large can of some gross thing that Delia had bought them, and the other clinging desperately to an overfilled bowl of chicken wings. Already on the couch, Ash laughed and turned up the volume on the TV with the remote that he had apparently located. (Last time Gary had checked in, the two of them had been pretty sure that that thing was gone for good.)

“Is the game on yet?” He asked, setting the huge cup down on the coffee table (and releasing a short prayer that it wouldn’t spill) as he looked up at the current rush of ads across the television screen, “Who’s winning?”

Ash giggled and got halfway through a, “Not yet Oak,” before stopping and realizing that something was still missing from their Hockey watching spree. “Um, you did get us napkins, right?”

Gary looked around himself, and though he saw Ash’s fingerless glove clad hand already covered in Buffalo sauce, hovering unsurely about the rest of the chicken wings, he saw no napkins. “Oh dang it,” He let out an exasperated cry and smacked a hand to his forehead, “I forgot them in the other room, here, I’ll get them-,”

He went to stand, but all of a sudden the announcer sprang to life before them.

“Welcome to today’s game of Hockey,” he was saying, voice strong and accented like an old radio star, and speaking just as fast, “We’ve got a very interesting match up today,”

The second announcer interrupted, sounding just as excited as the first, “Thankfully for the Snowpoint Legends, it seems that number 3, Jun Aemilius, is back on the ice, after his injury on Wednesday we were getting worried that he might not be able to make it to the next game, but it seems the medics came through!”

“And based on today’s lineup for the Icirrus Truths, the Legends may have really needed the return. I mean, ever since number 16, Blake Rasmussen, was traded into the team from the Castelia Ideals, the Truths have been rising in power across the league,”

“However, the new goalie for the Legends, number 1, Hareta Rowan, might be able to match Rasmussen’s intensity,”

“Do you know who they’re talking about?” Gary whispered to Ash, who seemed to have given up on napkins and was instead licking his fingers clean. (Seeing this, he quickly flushed red and looked back to the screen, pretending to be looking for clues there, though he hoped Ash would not guess the true reason for his newfound focus. …though it wouldn’t have been a problem if he had known.)

“Number three for the Legends is triplets with one of my rivals from when I was in Sinnoh,” Ash commented, watching as the camera tracked after a very attractive blond offensive player as if it was a totally normal comment to make to his current rival.

Gary suddenly reached for a can on the table, suddenly realizing that his throat felt dry. 

“None of that,” Ash waved his hands back and forth, flinging a speck or two of leftover sauce into Gary’s face, “I still love you the most,” he looked down at the cans, “Plus, those are non-alcoholic,”

Gary put his head in his hands, laughing. Had Ash assumed he had been trying to get drunk? “I’m just thirsty Ash,” he said, “and you reminded me of what your mom bought us,”

Ash made a face, studying the cans critically, “I wouldn’t suggest trying those, they’re probably flavored, like, pumpkin pie or crayons or something,”

Gary studied the can in the brightness of the ice from the screen. “The first one,” he told Ash, making a face, “Pumpkin pie seltzer, are you kidding me? Where does she even get them?”

“The Viridian Pokemart I think,” Ash said, snuggling a bit closer to Gary under the guise of checking out the ingredients of the strange drink.

“Why would she go all the way to Viridian to get-,” Gary cut himself off as the game suddenly kicked into action on the screen in front of them. Ash too sat up, suddenly on the edge of his seat as the puck rushed from player to player, currently held by the Truths. Gary glanced over at Ash’s face, noticing that he didn’t look super happy about that fact. 

“Soo…” Gary tried, now his turn to scoot closer, “Are we rooting for the Legends?”

“Would you want to root for a team from Unova?”

“Fair point,”

The two sat together, watching as the action moved from player to player, occasional crashes and shrieks coming up from the players as they crashed together and into various metal walls. Gary found himself leaning forward and hissing in anticipation as the puck shot towards the goal on their side, but joined Ash in whooping when the (apparently not-so-rookie) goalie expertly blocked the shot, catching it under his glove and sending up cheers among the crowd on his side of the stadium.

Ash grabbed Gary’s arm and shook him, as if Gary had watched more than a couple of games before to understand quite what that meant for his team. “Did you see that?!” He asked, sounding almost as excited as he always had before their battles, “That was so cool!”

The fact that Gary didn’t quite understand the game did not stop him from sharing Ash’s excitement. (Though he suspected that was more due to the fact that his rival was all but climbing into his lap in nervous joy about the game.)

“Yeah,” Gary said, watching somewhat in awe as the players sped from side to side in the advertisement lined rink.

They continued to watch like that, whooping as number three on their team managed a goal and hissing as 16, Blake, on the other side finally managed one of his own. At one point, their hands met in the chicken wing bowl, and of course Ash couldn’t help but joke that it was the most affectionate they’d been since getting back to Pallet together. (Gary shoved him off his shoulder and laughed it off, but the entire next period passed before he was done blushing about it.)

Advertisements passed as Gary left to refill the snacks, and he found himself grinning with the draw to watch the game as he saw it starting up again.

“You have to admit that this is just as interesting as watching a Pokemon battle,” Ash said, between bites of chicken wing, looking expectantly up at Gary.

“And nowhere near as irritating,” Gary added, breaking off in the middle of his sentence to take a large sip of pumpkin pie seltzer. (Which was honestly even more interesting than Delia had advertised it as being.) “I’m not there picking through every mistake they make,”

They both cringed as, number three, the forward on the team they had decided to root for just barely missed an easy shot.

“For the most part anyway,” Gary corrected

“For the most part anyway,” Ash laughed, agreeing with him.

They looked forward, and the game went back into that comfortable blur as the announcers led the cheers (or boos) as players entered and left the ice. (Though Gary found himself realizing that the two rivals were getting oddly close again as the final period began to wrap up. Even if the “close together” in question was more like, “just about falling off the couch with how focused they were on the flashing screen,”)

They cheered as their goalie blocked yet another would-have-been goal, and then cheered even louder as their team managed to actually complete a goal of their own. They were back in the lead by one, and with only a couple of seconds remaining on the clock, and a major player of the Truths out for misconduct earlier in the match, it was looking good.

“Comeon comeon,” Ash muttered, his fingers digging into Gary’s shoulders as he leaned even further forward, “Just hold the goal for one more-,”

“No!” They both shrieked, watching as their goalie, the one named like his region’s professor, was knocked to the ground by an opposing player, allowing the puck to sail cleanly into the net behind him.

Making the game tied, and sending it into overtime as Ash jolted to his feet, taking two large steps forward and echoing the announcer as he yelped. “How was that not an illegal move!”

Gary stood and walked to meet him, but found his eyes similarly glued to the screen as the teams reset for the tie breaking move. In his still lacking understanding of the game, he couldn’t quite tell what was happening, but the energy in the crowd (and in Ash), was enough to tell him that, whatever it was, it was seriously interesting.

He squinted at the glowing ice, and then found himself jumping up and down as he spotted number three dragging the puck forward and towards the opposing goal. He was moving like lightning, skirting around nearly every other player as he raced for the win.

Ash and Gary watched in slow motion as 16, Blake, from the other team fought to catch up with Jun, and cheered as he crashed into a defenseman from his own team, clearly still at least a little shaken up from his apparent injury on Wednesday as the two skidded across the ice together, their balance lost.

It happened so fast that Gary almost missed it, but the puck banged against the net and the stadium exploded. Even with the TV on low volume, Gary truly felt like he was among the screaming fans as Ash jumped up and down beside him. Clapping his hands together and shivering in excitement. To Gary, the sight was almost funny, but as he opened his mouth to say something about it, he found himself the one taken aback as Ash jumped up and kissed him.

They hung that way for a moment, Gary feeling like he was floating in sudden joy as Ash’s arms wrapped briefly around his shoulders, only to be dragged back away again as his friend suddenly pulled back, face bright red.

“Oh I-,” he tried to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to-,”

Gary’s face was definitely bright red, but he didn’t care. “Well,” he said, grabbing Ash’s hands and leaning forward, “Do it again and I might think about coming back for the next game,” 

He smirked as Ash stuttered out a sudden, “I love you,” right before Gary pulled them back into a kiss as the cheers of the crowd echoed through the dark room. 

(Even if their mouths tasted like buffalo chicken wings and pumpkin pie seltzer.)

#long post #pokespe hockey au #palletshipping #palletshipping week 2024 #trainer ash #trainer gary #trainer blake #trainer hareta #trainer jun #pokemon adventures #pokemon special #pokemon dpa #pokespe #my art #my writing #actual post #fanfic #Palletshipping Week #hockey #surprise kiss