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riaki · 6 months

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moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

#i caved (again!!!!)#this has been sitting in my notes app for like a month oopsies #breathe the fresh air. be blinded by the sun and smell the grass (me @ this drabble)#have more gojo fluff!!!! i have plenty to give #now i scuttle away to work on my christmas special #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #billet-doux #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk scenarios #i tbink this is the most i’ve edited for a banner yet oops #- rs !

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fairestwriting · 2 months

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I saw and loved your piece about an S/O that's like a heater. What about the absolute opposite? I'm always kinda cold. Would love to be warmed up by Jack :) thank you ever so much!

Ace Trappola

Knowing how easily you get cold, Ace is ready to be a little bastard and put his cold hands on your neck first chance he gets. What he didn't know, though, was that even your neck already felt like an icicle in this weather, maybe even colder than his hands?

Despite his occasional little bastard-ing about it, he thinks it's sort of endearing. He tries to play it cool most of the time, to be the suave boyfriend who lends you his jacket when you're cold. This fails pretty miserably because he starts freezing his ass off, but you can tell he cares.

You can get your revenge for his little prank (which he will repeat, because even if it doesn't startle you a lot, it still startles you) by making he experience how chilly you feel whenever you cuddle up to him. He'll get startled and complain about it all dramatic, but you can sense that he feels sort of proud that he's warming you up now.

Deuce Spade

Takes every opportunity to fuss over you, gets all worried if he doesn't see you wearing a jacket. Like Ace, he'll lend you his without hesitation, except he manages to be "cooler" about it since he doesn't get cold as easily. He's still all worried about you, though.

He's easily flustered by touch no matter the circumstance, but he's also dead set on keeping you warm. Initiates hugs a lot more, the possible excuse of "not wanting you to catch a cold" makes him a little bolder. It's hard for anyone to pry you off each other.

He probably has things like scarves and sweaters his mother knitted for him that don't fit anymore, and if they fit you, he's downright overjoyed to hand them over. Some of them look a little silly in the way that homemade knit clothing usually does, but it's kind of impossible to refuse him. He loves them, and he loves seeing you on them.

Jack Howl

Yeah, he is the ideal boyfriend for this scenario. Having lived in a cold place for most of his life, he does know a lot about how to stay warm!

...Which means, he knows when he doesn't have to be cuddling you for you not to freeze, but one time or another, he'll use it as an excuse to stay glued to you for a bit, saying it's the best you can do now to stave off the cold. He blushes while he mumbles out his very clear lie.

Even harder to pry him off you than it is with Deuce. Whether it's summer or winter. You know, he is way warmer than a human, so when it's hot, it's his turn to cool down on you. It's the perfect excuse to get all that PDA he's usually too shy to go for.

Epel Felmier

Out of the three who would try to play the "cool boyfriend giving you his jacket when you're cold" trope, Epel is the one who actually pulls it off perfectly. He does get worried, of course, but he's not nearly as fussy as Deuce, and he's pretty tolerant to cold. Maybe a little too much. You two will be an interesting sight during winter, when he's walking around wearing a scarf and gloves at most, and you're all bundled up.

If you like hot apple cider, or apple pie, or anything warm that involves apples, you're getting an endless supply of it. Some from leftovers he gets after visiting his family on werkends, and some made by his own hand.

(He's a little embarrassed to admit he made them, though, because while they're good, aesthetics really aren't his forte. But he's trying his best.)

Sebek Zigvolt

Still runs considerably colder than you, but it still spooks him. You're not fae cold, sure, but still? Is that really normal for a human? He expects answers.

Winter is... not very kind to either of you, needless to say. It's not that he gets cold in the traditional way, but it does a number on his energy. Even then, he'll still spare some to scold you if he thinks you're underdressed.

...Sometimes Sebek exaggerates a little. It's honestly just because he doesn't know a lot about how warmth works for the human body. But giving you a second pair of earmuffs when you already have one on is still one of his ways of showing that he cares about you.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #lis writing

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lovebugism · 4 months

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I know this is early, but fights on Christmas for the prompts thingy. Maybe with Punchy x Eddie? Or with Steve?

ty for requesting angel! hope u like it :D — eddie tells you that his dad is coming to hawkins for christmas and an argument ensues (peach x eddie, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The smell of a homecooked dinner lingers in the air, warm and nostalgic. You spoon the leftovers into plastic containers for when Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift. Eddie’s laughter sounds from the distance, where he takes a phone call in the living room. The sound is warmer. More nostalgic.

He hangs up and walks back to you, wearing a bright pink grin that shows all his teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, smiling because he is.

Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant despite his beaming. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter across from you. “That was— That was my dad, actually,” he tells you, still a bit dazed about the whole thing. He’d almost forgotten what his father’s voice sounded like before now.

Your grin fades. “…What?”

He nods with his brows raised behind his fluffy bangs. “Yeah. He’s, uh— He wants to come to Hawkins for Christmas, apparently. Said he’s finally got some time off work, so he’s gonna drive up here in a few days and stay for a while.”

Work doesn’t mean work — not with Alan, anyway. You know this, so you’re not entirely sure why Eddie doesn’t. If you had to guess, the asshole got up to too much trouble and needs a place to lay low until it all dies down.

You try to be supportive of your smiling boy, but your concern is evident, practically dripping from your features. “Oh. That’s… That’s… Does Wayne know?”

“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Don’t you know why that is?” you ask him, trying to laugh. It comes out much more bitter than you intended it to.

“Uh… No?”

You drop the wooden spoon into the bowl and face him entirely. Your hip digs into the counter’s edge — a distant pain that doesn’t rival your burning anger. “He’s not telling Wayne because he knows Wayne won’t let him stay.”

Eddie’s chin jerks back like he’s flinching. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says with a forced chuckle.

You sigh. You don’t want to be insensitive, but his obliviousness makes you impatient.

“Eddie… He’s… Your dad…” You try to explain it all to him, but you can’t find the words to. There are far too many ways to describe his father, and you come up short in the end. “I mean— you’re not letting him come, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he laughs.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to see you, Eddie. Or Wayne— He doesn’t care about either of you, you know that.”

Eddie goes agape with shock. You’re not usually so confrontational. You’re unusually argumentative, and it surprises him — offends him. “You say that like you know anything about him,” he argues with a scoff. He’s still smiling but there’s little warmth behind it.

“You don’t know anything about him!” you retort, a little harsher than you mean to. Your hands flail as you gesture wildly. “He doesn’t know anything about you, either, Eddie. He’s an addict. He chose thatover you a long time ago.”

Eddie clenches his teeth. You can see it in the way his temples shift. “I told you that because I trusted you,” he says with a tight jaw, trying not to show you how angry he is. “Not for you to use against me—”

“I’m not using it against you, Eddie. I’m trying to protect you!”

He scoffs a cynical laugh. “Well, you’re doing an awful good job of that, aren’t you, Peach?”

His unusual bitterness stings somewhere deep in your chest.

You don’t know why he’s being so blind.

Except, you sorta do. You’re the resident expert of letting assholes into your life over and over and over again — like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know when to stop coming back.

That’s the root of your frustration, you think. You know a lot more than he’s giving you credit for, and it’s infuriating to be written off so easily.

You huff and turn away from him again. You pop the lids onto the tupperware containers to busy your trembling hands. “Fine. Let him come. I don’t care. I’m not the one that’s gonna get my heart broken after all this.”

“Wow,” Eddie muses, dragging the vowel for effect. “That’s real sweet, babe— what would I do without you?”

You leave the bowls to cool on the container and disappear down the hallway. You go to his bedroom for your bag, and he doesn’t follow behind you — you’re not sure you want him to. After nearly a week in the trailer, you figure you’ve spent entirely too much time together.

And as much as it hurts, you know it’s not the end of the world.

If you and Eddie — the neurotic type A and the laid-back-to-a-fault type B — can survive hanging up Christmas decorations together, you’re pretty sure your relationship can survive just about anything.

He’s still lingering at the counter when you get back, idling like he’s been waiting for your return. He sees your bag slung over your shoulder and deflates like a popped balloon. “Where are you going?” he wonders despite his ebbing anger.

“Home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Exactly,” you hum, stilling when you reach his side. You press a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek and walk towards the door without looking back. “Call me when you tell Wayne.”

“C’mon, Peach. You don’t have to go.”

You turn back with your hand on the rusted brass door knob. “I’m mad at you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie grins back at you but doesn’t press it any further. You’re allowed to be angry. Hell, he’s still a little angry, too. And if you wanna be alone, then so be it — as long as you’re back in his bed when all the bullshit’s over with.

‘Cause he’s mature and everything like that now.

That’s why he just smiles as he tells you, “Call me when you get home.”

—————

You call him when you get home that night.

He calls you the next morning when Wayne gets home, all worked up because his uncle took the news about as well as you did.

You’re not a total asshole, so you don’t rub it in his face. When he comes to you after a few more days have passed — fighting back tears because his dad ditched him all over again — there are no I told you so’s. No bitterness or stupid comebacks.

You just hold him and love on him like you always do. He needs that now more than ever, you figure.

You sit with him on your couch while he hides his tears in your lap. His dirty sneakers scuff the cushions that you’re usually a stickler about keeping clean. You quickly find that you don’t care as much as you thought you did, because you’ve never seen your boy so sad.

It makes your chest ache. Like his heartache is your own in some way.

“I’m an idiot,” Eddie grouses, muffled into the pillow in your lap. He feels like one, anyway. He’s spending the week before Christmas crying his eyes out because he was too stubborn to listen to you.

He’s a total dumbass.

The dumbest of dumbasses.

Your fingers dance through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, scratching gently at his scalp to keep him grounded. “No, you’re not, Eds. Your dad’s just an asshole.”

He scoffs, managing a small laugh despite his tear-stained face. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s not your fault, either. You know that.”

“No, I know,” he insists, sniffling as he turns onto his back. His chocolate eyes are rimmed red and slightly glassy. His cheeks are softly flushed, speckled with a rosy heat. Strands of hair stick to his wet jaw. You smooth them away with the palm of your hand while he wipes at his reddened nose with the back of his.

“I just… I guess I just thought he’d changed, you know?” he confesses, voice wet with emotion.

You nod sympathetically. “I know. It’s the worst feeling in the fucking world.”

You have a different kind of experience in that department — the skeleton in your closet that always comes back to haunt you department. For you, it’s Billy. For Eddie, it’s Alan. The sting is a different one, but it still hurts in the same place.

“I should’ve listened to you, huh?” Eddie asks, the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile.

“I know why you didn’t want to,” you assure, smoothing your palm over the top of his wild head. You hope the warmth of your touch will aid his inevitable post-cry headache. “But I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings, you know that, right?”

“I know. I knew it then, too, I just… didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”

“I know what it’s like,” you promise. And then, when you see his mouth twist into an apology, you cut him off as gently as you can. “And don’t apologize for it, either. It’s okay, Eds. I promise.”

He grins at you, still a bit weighed down with leftover emotion.

His eyes squeeze shut when you swipe tears from beneath them, the edges of them crinkling ever so slightly. And when he opens them again, they glimmer with a newfound life.

No one on earth is as resilient as your boy.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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moodywyrm · 11 months

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Okay okay can we talk about vi and periods?

I feel like hers are bad, but she’s always just pushed through them, she didn’t want to seem vulnerable or like a wimp since it happens every month. She tries to just ignore it, but once you get in the picture? You just want to take care of her. She’s hesitant at first, learning not to get attached, not to get used to intimacy, but once you finally break those walls down (it really didn’t take long, she’s desperate for affection), she absolutely melts. She lets you hold her, rubbing her stomach, if modern!AU you’d get her a heating pad while she lays with her head in your lap, whining every time you stop playing with her hair. She’s such a softie, she loves when you take care of her

For you, I feel like she’s such a natural caretaker with the people she loves, she’d immediately jump at the opportunity to do all the stuff you do for her, to you. She hates seeing you in any kind of pain, so she’s goes almost a little overboard making sure you’re feeling okay

I've been staring at this for days bc oh my god. Yes.

Vi was the leader of her little family, right under Vander. She literally Could Not show weakness because if she does, who are the others supposed to depend on? So when she started getting her period (at like 14), she learned real fast how to hide the pain of her Debilitating periods. You think it was hard hiding the pain from getting into fights in Zaun? Try concealing a vomit-inducing cramps, achy joints, pounding headaches, a lower back that feels like it's being yanked between two trucks, and boobs so sore a gust of wind makes you cry on top of it.

She got so used to being the caretaker that she didn't even hesitate when you two finally got together. She just immediately fell into the role whenever you got yours, cuddling you and feeding you your favorite foods, helping you bathe and pampering you however she can (However She Can. Baby ain't afraid of blood).

But you had known that she experienced really bad periods. You'd been friends for ages before you got together and you, loving her and being in love with her, caught on to her little winces, her slower gait, her extra caution for about one week a month. And you knew she was good at hiding pain, and you also knew she wouldn't let you take care of her just yet (you also didn't want to reveal your feelings just yet but that's neither here nor there).

But a month or two before you get together, she get's an awful fucking period. I'm talking baby woke up and bled through her clothes and also immediately vomited. You two already lived together, so when you heard her scramble out of her room at 2am, you're up and in the bathroom with her immediately.

You kneel down next to her on the bathroom floor, rubbing circles at her back and using one hand to keep her overgrown pixie cut out of her face,"It's okay, let it out."

And she does :( sweet girl is stuck over the toilet for another five minutes before she finally leans back against the edge of the tub, panting and wiping her mouth with the wet napkin you handed her. You immediately spot the mess of red on her grey sweats, and you wince.

"Oh honey, it's an extra bad one this time huh? Get those off, I'll bring you a change of clothes, just get in the shower," You're already hauling yourself up off the floor, constructing a mental checklist to help Vi feel better.

Get her clean clothes and a warm shower

In the meantime, change her bedding and soak in cold water. same with her sweats and underwear. Don't think about the fact that it's her underwear.

Get her something fatty and warm to eat, like a little bit of Jericho leftovers, and then give her pain meds and water.

??? Hol dher??? May Be??? If she lets you???

before you can even leave the bathroom, Vi is holding onto your leg with one warm hand.

"You don't have to do that pumpkin, I can handle it myself. Just go back to sleep."

But you can see the way she's cracking, nearly immobilized from the pain. She can't do this by herself, or she shouldn't have to. So you shush her and set upon your tasks, bringing her one of your t-shirts and a pair of her sweats plus some clean boxers, stripping her bed and bringing it to the bathroom sink to rinse it off in cold water.

It makes Vi feel better, to know you're so close. She's embarrassed because here is this beautiful, caring girl, sleep deprived and washing Vi's blood out of Vi's things. But she also feels ... good? Not physically, obviously, but there's something so nice about being taken care of. You're always doing that for her, taking care of her. Making sure she has breakfast and water, patching her up after fights, helping her clean up and repair her gauntlets.

It's only then that she realizes, I mean fully realizes, how much she wants to be with you. She loves taking care of you, but she also likes being taken care of by you. She like that she's allowed to let her guard down around you.

It hits her while she's showering, while she's getting dressed, when she meets you on the couch, when you're helping her eat and rubbing her back and her tummy to make sure she doesn't vomit again. She falls asleep in your arms, on your guys' couch, thinking about how much she wants to be with you.

It's no surprise that, not even two months later, she's yanking you into your apartment with a bruising kiss after winning a massive fight. You're her girl, her good luck charm, the one who takes care of her.

I have to leave for class in 26 min and I still have to do my makeup oh god oh fuck AH

#anon #arcane vi #arcane vi fluff #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi x reader fluff

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bluesylveon2 · 11 months

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After much deliberation, I think I'd love to see Rook with "I Won't Say I'm in Love" from Hercules. It started me on a brainstorming spiral. And! The little bit at the end where Megara holds the nile flower to her chest? Imagine Yuu doing that with Rook's hat. I just really like the idea, that out of all the possible options, they fall for that guy.

It could be fun if instead of the muses it's the ghosts of ramshackle, and instead of falling onto a statue, Yuu falls into the arms of a ghost that looks like Rook. Yuu doesn't know how to process these feelings and the ghosts are being menaces.

So when I first saw this ask, I was like "I got this 😎" Famous last words right there lol. I did enjoy messing with Yuu/MC tho. I hope you enjoy it, anon!

Word Count: 933

Notes: the ghost names are: Billy = short one, Don = tall one, Harry = fat one. I picked the sames based on the Lonesome Ghosts (what Ramshackle is based on) and used the actor's names

Warning: not beta read, possible ooc characters, and one irl reference

"-man!"

"-enchman!"

"HENCHMAN!!"

"Ah!" Yuu jumped and dropped the item in her hands. She frantically looked around the Ramshackle lounge. Her eyes landed on Grim, who was jumping on the other side of the couch. "Yes, Grim?"

Grim crawled up on Yuu's lap, "I'm hungry! Feed me some tuna."

"Oh, I am. I'm sorry, Grim. Let me get you your tuna for dinner," Yuu stood up, grabbed the big purple hat, and walked towards the kitchen with Grim following behind to sit down.

"You had a starry look in your eyes when you were staring at that hat. Were you thinking about Rook again?"

"NO!" Yuu exclaimed while placing the hat on the dining table. She opened the pantry and grabbed a can, "Why would I be thinking about him anyway? He is weird, mysterious, and a bit creepy."

Grim put his paws on his hips, "Mhm, sounds like your type."

Yuu almost dropped the opened can of tuna, "Grim! Eat your tuna!" She shoved the can into Grim's paws. He barely had enough time to catch it.

"Hey, this is premium tuna! Besides, what I said was true."

Yuu rolled her eyes and approached the refrigerator to hide her blush, "I only see Rook as a friend. We are just friends."

"I don't know. You don't sound happy saying that," Grim stopped eating his food to stare at Yuu, "You two have gotten pretty cozy after the Island of Woe incident. I would say a bit too close to be just friends."

"It's not like he is on my mind all the time, or I think about his laugh or the way his hair flows just right in the wind, or how eccentric he sounds when he speaks French…." Yuu sighed, grabbed a random container, and kicked the fridge closed. She headed towards the microwave to warm up her food.

Curse Grim for putting him in my mind!

"Is Yuu talking about Rook again?" Don, the skinny ghost, asked. He and the other Ramshackle ghosts materialize in the kitchen for dinner. Although they cannot eat, they stay to keep Yuu and Grim company.

"Yep," Grim smirked, causing Yuu to roll her eyes.

"Oh ho ho! I always knew you had feelings for him!" Harry, the fat ghost, laughed.

"Since when?" Yuu sputtered, her face turning red.

"Since the VDC. Billy, the short ghost, replied. "You two would always hang out, and he started spending more time here after it ended."

"A lot of people spend time here, too," Yuu pointed out and ate her dinner.

Harry chuckled, "Well, you at least accepted his gift," The ghost pointed to the food Yuu was eating. Said human looked down to find that she did grab the leftover ratatouille Rook gave her yesterday. That was also the day he left his hat at her dorm.

"It was the first thing I saw," Yuu deadpanned and plopped on her seat next to Grim.

"Sure it was, Yuu. We'll believe you for now," Don smirked. He and the other ghosts floated to the unoccupied chairs.

"I don't like him like that."

"I don't know…" Billy drawled, "It didn't look like it when he serenaded you on your balcony."

"He was just being nice because it was my birthday," Yuu replied, ignoring how hard it was for her heart not to jump out of her chest that night. She was willing to take how she felt like a princess to the grave.

"What about that time he wanted to draw you like one of those French girls?" Grim innocently asked.

"How bold!" Harry exclaimed, and the other ghosts laughed. Grim just sat there confused. Yuu felt her ears turn red as the ghosts smirked.

"Not like that! You know how he is! He is always trying to find ways to appreciate beauty."

Billy raised an eyebrow (do ghosts even have eyebrows?), "Oh, so he finds you beautiful?"

Yuu covered her face with her hands out of embarrassment. Her heart was beating fast, and her mind was thinking about Rook a mile a minute.

The first time she met Rook, Rook's soft hair that she wanted to run her fingers through, Rook's unique personality, Rook…Rook…Rook…

"Watch this," Don whispered to the ghosts and turned to Grim pointing to something on the table, "Hand me that hat,"

Yuu was praying the teasing stopped until she felt a presence near her.

“Bonjour, mon amour!”

"Ahhh!" Yuu screamed, causing herself to fall into Ghost Rook's arms and the other witnesses around her to laugh. Ghost Rook looked down at her with a smile similar to the real Rook, except Rook's smile made him look like a prince. Wait, prince? Yuu shook her head. This isn't real! "That is not funny!" she exclaimed, scrambling back and snatching Rook’s hat. She inspected it for any dust.

Ghost Rook turned back into a laughing Don, "You must admit it, Yuu. You can't deny that you have feelings for him."

Yuu sighed out of defeat, "Maybe I like him a little." Grim looked at her with a 'really?' look, "Fine, I like him a lot. Happy?" Yuu hid her growing smile by placing the hat on her head and hiding behind the brim.

The ghosts and Grim smiled, "Very."

Meanwhile, a certain blonde hunter sat on a tree, listening to the conversation through an open window. He originally came to retrieve his hat but climbed up the tree instead when he heard his name.

"Oo la la! It seems ma chérie has feelings for me after all. I must let her know that they are reciprocated!"

400 follower event (only 1 spot left!!!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x yuu #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x yuu #thank you for the ask!#400 follower event

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autisticempathydaemon · 2 months

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could I please get a match up?? 💗

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

Wanderlust by Eloise and my favorite line is “How I’m with you is beyond me” bc I just feel really lucky to be with my partner

What is your Enneagram type?

Peacemaker

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

I don’t really watch essays, but I like cake-decorating tutorials and I watch them a lot

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

I didn’t really have an imaginary friend, but I used to dress my poor baby kitten up in doll clothes and make him sit through tea parties

What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

I read and journal for a little bit and then put on my sleep sound machine

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

I would want something really unique and go with no last name. Just Echevaria

What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

I think Caelum is really cute and there is more to him than anyone realizes. I miss him 🥺

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

David. I do understand why people like him, but he’s just too much for me. I think if someone talked to me like that I would cry.

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

I can recite Goodnight Moon from memory. I did a lot of babysitting.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

Lasko and I have a lot in common

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it?

Baking again. Especially weird combinations. I hardly ever make up my own recipes but when I do it’s because I’m not all there

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Redacted is my guilty pleasure omg if anyone knew…

Ahh, a fellow Type Nine baker who relates to Lasko, my kinfolk. This may be a little biased then, but hand to heart, it’s gotta be Huxley for you.

Peacemakers tend to be diplomatic and thoughtful- sometimes to a fault, putting the needs of others ahead of their own. Huxley is a good match for you because he would never let that go too far, the king of taking care of his loved ones and being their rock. I also like that, if you don’t like kids, you’re definitely good with kids, and Huxley would love that in a partner and would just melt if he saw you reciting Goodnight Moon to a child from memory.

Huxley would be such a sweet partner to a baker. He raves about absolutely everything you make, calms you down when something goes awry as they inevitably do, goes out to the store when you had way less sugar than you thought you did, just an absolute treasure. Huxley constantly shares the leftovers with the DAMN-ily and his team, raving about you and your skills whenever he can. Also, he loves the story about the time you dressed your cat up for a tea party. As someone who definitely had a loving childhood with his moms, he’d love to hear about similar stories from yours and sharing his, revealing the parts of each other that existed before you two met, you know?

Song:

Such a cozy room, the windows are illuminated/ By the evening sunshine through them/ Fiery gems for you, only for you/ Our house, is a very, very, very fine house/ With two cats in the yard/ Life used to be so hard/ Now everything is easy 'cause of you

I love the idea that Huxley listens to old-school music- like, that’s what his moms played while he was growing up, so that’s what he listens to. I also love this song’s vibes for you, because it’s so cozy, warm, and happy, perfect for the two of you hanging out, resting on the couch, and waiting for bread to proof.

Runner-ups:

Geordi is a runner-up because I also think of him as a baker (a la @romirola and her gorgeous fics), and who doesn’t love a team and power couple? Anton is a cute runner-up because I think he sucks at baking, which makes no sense, but he does, which makes him love and admire your skill all the more.

note: thank you for your entry, I hope you like it!

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

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lumaxramblings · 1 year

Note

Trans max overhears Lucas and El talking about him so they can practice using their boyfriend's pronouns <3

max has never been a morning person.

this has been established many times, and it's basically a party rule at this point. don't wake max up before 10 if you want to keep your knees.

but of course, there are times that he wakes up before ten himself, then it's only him to blame, and unfortunately, he can't swipe his own knees.

this is one such morning.

he blinks up at the ceiling, vision blurry before it refines a little, and then groans and covers his eyes. he takes them off briefly to look at the time, then groans again, but louder.

8:37.

who the fuck wakes up at eight thirty-seven?

him, apparently, because he hates himself.

he almost commits himself to sleeping again, out of spite of his brain, even though whenever he wakes up usually there's no going back (unless lucas and el are with him and he's really, really tired).

but that's when the smell wafts into this room.

bacon.

god, he fucking loves bacon.

so he lets out a huff and rolls out of bed (not literally, as then everyone in steve's house would come running to see if he's okay and he hates being swarmed at all, but especially in the mornings), and plants his own two socked feet on the floor.

he pushes himself up, grabs a pullover hoodie despite feeling a little warm, and pulls it over his head, grinning at how it hides his form.

he walks through the hall and down the stairs, and leans against the doorway before going in. it's instinctive, leftover from when he had two angry asshole around the house, and it was like stepping around a minefield, never quite sure if you were doing the right thing, and knowing the consequences would be dire, and so you had to know who was in a room before entering it. he doesn't mean to do it, not when he knows how safe the others are, but he can't help it.

"when do you think he will be up?"

max pauses, blinks. that's... that's lucas. his boyfriend.

"i think he'll be up in a bit."

max blinks again. and that's el, his girlfriend.

are they... are they talking about him—?

"nice. i can't wait to talk to him about..." lucas audibly pauses. "anything, really. i like him."

"i like him too."

max covers his mouth to stop himself smiling so wide, feeling his heart thumping traitorously, so loudly that he feels lucas and el will be alerted to his presence.

"yeah!" lucas says, audibly smiling. "i think she—fuck, no—he's doing better. shit."

"it was just a mistake." el tells him. "a... slip-down."

"slip-up, el."

"same thing."

lucas chuckles. "i guess i just better try until i get the pronoun thing down, right?"

"yeah." el nods. "did you see his face when we used he with him yesterday? he was so happy."

"he smiled so wide! god, i want to see him smile like that again."

your wish is my command, max thinks, feeling dizzy, almost lightheaded at their words. but lightheaded in a good way, if that makes sense. either way, he feels like if he hears more of them talking about him like this, he'll explode. he swings himself around the doorframe.

el and lucas sit there, at the table, staring at him for a moment like deer in headlights, and max faintly registers steve at the stove, humming and grinning over at him like he knows what he just overheard.

the two get up, chair legs scraping against the floor, and max goes in to hug el, who hugs him tightly back, giggling a little, and max chuckles into the hug, giggling himself, before departing for a second to hug lucas.

"hey, handsome." lucas says, and plants a kiss in his hair, and max's heart leaps out of his chest. "sleep well?"

"slept shit." max informs him happily, hiding his head in his boyfriend's shirt so they don't see how hard he's blushing. "but it's better now i'm with you two."

"aw, my love.<3"

max splutters and lucas laughs. el's loved using that nickname ever since she saw some guy on tv tell it to his girlfriend, and now she never stops, and it never fails to cause max's brain to short circuit.

whenever he's around them, he feels something, foreign and unique, and he just... can't put his name on it.

el giggles and steps forwards to also hug him, and they stay like that for a few seconds, before steve speaks up.

"hey, dipshits," steve says. "you gonna eat your bacon or just let it go cold?"

lucas makes a face and el rolls her eyes (she learnt that from the many, many times max has rolled his eyes around mike) and max flips him off, but can't stop himself smiling when steve ruffles his short hair.

when he sits down at the table, he realizes what the feeling he has around them is.

he feels so, so loved.

#trans max mayfield #elumax #proud of this ficlet actually #elmax #lumax #max mayfield #el hopper #lucas sinclair

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lorifragolina · 4 months

Text

All I want for Christmas

A little Harringrove present for Christmas, for all my friends here and for the lovely Billy and Steve <3 !

Pairing: Steve/Billy Rating: T No warning, Christmas fluff!

Read it in AO3

Steve opened the door with a bag of diner leftovers in a hand.

Billy got up from the sofa while Steve smelled the air, delighted.

“I made some eggnog for tomorrow morning”, said Billy in a plain tone, shrugging, as he’s trying to justify the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon in the kitchen. Steve smiled, following Billy in the tiny living room, where the blonde turned on a little Christmas tree on the counter.

“What’s this?” Asked Steve, enjoying the feeble flicking lights.

Billy shrugged again. “They gave it to me at work. It was broken but I fixed it”.

“It’s lovely”, smiled Steve, kissing his boyfriend on the forehead. Billy nodded, a little uncertain.

Steve unwrapped the food he got at the diner, still warm, and placed the table. He took a couple of good beers at work and he bought some red paper plates and napkins to give the table a bit of a festive look. Billy lit a little candle and placed it on the table, sitting down to eat.

Steve put the food on a plate, throwing away the foil boxes, and served Billy and himself a generous portion of mashed potatoes and gravy. They had roasted turkey, honey-glazed ham, vegetables and some sauces. The dessert was still in the bag.

Steve took a sip of his beer and smiled warmly to Billy, who was eating with a serious look on his face. He saw Steve’s smile and bit his lips, lowering his eyes.

“I wish I could give you more than this… this”, he sighed with a broken voice.

They both decided to work the Christmas' Eve shift, because nobody wanted to work it and they paid more for the overtime. They are still a little bit weary because of the move, and obviously they didn’t want to return to Hawkins that year. So Billy worked at the club until closure and Steve served the last shift at the diner, getting the Christmas dinner leftover in return. They decided not to waste money in decoration so the little fixed tree was the only accent in their little apartment.

“I wish I could give you more than this”, Billy fiddling in his potatoes with the fork.

Steve grabbed his hand on the table and smiled. “It’s just perfect, baby”, he said in the sweetest way he could.

Billy shook his head. He could imagine the lavish Christmases Steve had at his home, in his big house, with lights, trees, presents and fresh food. He knew Steve was there only for him, and even if they weren’t completely broken, they had to be careful with the expenses; Steve’s parents had momentarily cut money and he couldn’t still use his own until 21; they worked and had decent salaries, but the move let them bleeding a little, and besides… apart of money, Billy still wasn’t sure Steve didn’t repent, in general.

“No…” he whispered. “You deserve more, and I can’t…”

“Oh, stop it. It’s just perfect, believe me”, he repeated, grabbing Billy’s hand more strongly. He liked the light the candle was throwing on his golden complexion.

He didn’t miss his Christmases in Indiana. Yes, he was working instead of drinking and playing with his friends, and the weather was still warm, but he didn’t miss the snow and the cold at all. He loved the gentle sea wind and enjoyed the beaches even in December, and he wouldn't change anything in the world by curling in the night with his boyfriend, there or in wherever in the world.

He didn’t miss the bright Christmas in his house, not at all.

Billy shook his head again. “I would give you what you used to have, but I can’t… I’m sorry”.

“Are you kidding me, Billy? I don’t want anything but this!”, he waved at the table, smiling, waving with his fork.

“Come on, don’t be silly…”, murmured Billy again.

“No, you don’t be silly. Could you really think I would change being here with you with anything else? No”, Steve stopped Billy’s objection. “You know what? This is the first Christmas I spent with… with someone who really wants to spend it with me”, he sighed a little, lowering his eyes, suddenly sad.

“Baby…”, muttered Billy.

Steve nodded. It was true, he normally spent the holidays in a big, warm, decorated house, with a lot of food and drink, but he never felt that his parents really enjoyed being with him. He always felt they barely bore each other's presence, his father always on the phone for business and his mother bored and waiting to return to some warmer place she enjoyed more, and Steve never felt really in his place with them. But he felt in his place, himself, for the first time in ages, there, in LA, with Billy.

“It’s the best present you could give me,” added Steve again, looking lovingly at him, trying to make him feel better.

Billy smiled, blushing. He looked at his plate and ate some more turkey, really feeling better and really thankful to Steve.

They cleared the table after they finished the dinner, and Steve took two little glasses of whisky, giving one to Billy.

“Wanna toast to our first Chirsmas?” He asked, raising the glass.

Billy put down the glass and smiled. “I have something for you first,” he blushed.

He took a wrapped box from behind the sofa. It was pretty big, and Steve gasped.

“Billy, we said no present!”, but he smiled at the fancy wrapping, one of Billy's multiple talents. He could do everything he proposed with his hands. “Can I open it?” Steve stared at his face, smiling, caressing the bright paper.

Billy nodded. “Go on. It’s for you”.

Steve unwrapped the present like a child, then opened the box and put the present on the table.

“Billy!”

Billy blushed again. “I found it at the thrift shop… it’s working well. Look in the box again!”

Steve took two tapes from the bottom of the box and read the titles of the mixed tapes Billy did for him. They said “Love for Steve” and “Rock for Steve”, without the song titles. He placed the boombox Billy had given to him on the counter and connected it.

“We will listen to our music now”, he smiled, pressing a little kiss on Billy’s lips. They had a discrete collection of tapes but until that moment they listened to them only in their cars. Sometimes Billy went on purpose in the Camaro to blast some metal and put some steam off.

“No”, smiled Billy in the kiss. “It’s yours”, he said. “You’ll have the last word about the music when we’re together”.

“You sure?” Steve knew how fussy Billy was about music, the tantrums he was capable of throwing about and the infinite discussion about how lame was the music Steve liked. And he knew how difficult it was for him to give up control and that if he gave his word he would keep it.

Billy nodded. “It’s yours”, he repeated.

Steve hugged him and kissed him, enjoying the warm, sweet scent of his love.

“So we can toast now”, said Billy then, raising his little glass again.

“Well, at this point we can wait a little more”, he said, running in the bedroom and came out with a little packet. “I have a present for you too”, he blushed, giving the soft bundle to Billy.

“You’re so stupid…” smiled Billy, grateful. And then “Steve! You’re nuts! It’s forty dollars!” He raised a satin black button down shirt, long sleeves, from a fancy boutique they visited lately. Billy liked the shirt but it was definitely too expensive.

“Don’t worry, Billy”, cackled Steve. “I cutted hairspray expenses for a while. It’s not a problem, and besides now I don’t really need it, look, I have California surfer hair now”, he passed the hand in his hair, he had beach waves and little blonder strands.

“I really love it!” Billy smiled.

“Try it!”

Billy took off the t-shirt he was wearing and tried the shirt. “It’s perfect, babe”, he lightly touched the fabric, with a moved trembling voice. He finally raised the glass for the third time.

“More surprises?” He smiled.

“No, no more surprised”, answered Steve, smiling in return.

They toasted and drank. “Merry Christmas, babe”.

“Merry Christmas, Harrington. I love you”.

“I love you too”.

Later, in the bed, Steve hugged his Billy from behind. He felt at this moment he wanted only to cuddle with him in their warmth.

Billy sank in his arms, grateful for everything he had with Steve, and finally he started not to be worried for life with Steve.

“Ehi babe”, he moved a little in Steve’s arms, after a while when he simply enjoyed their heartbeats.

“Mmm mmm”, moaned Steve.

“What time is it?”

Steve had his eyes closed, so he just guessed. “Past midnight I think”, he whispered.

“So Santa already passed…?”

“What…what are you talking about?”

“I was thinking… Maybe Santa left a last package for you?”

He pushed Steve’s hand between his legs, and Steve smiled.

He wad definitely ready to open a last Christmas present.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #writing #harringrove #christmas tree #christmas #fluff #sending love ❤️

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veorix · 10 months

Text

Chapter 8 - Old Friend

⚠️Tags: scopophobia, hypnotism, mind manipulation, autistic wally darling, romance (in a bad way), friends to lovers, reader is a puppet (...or are they), gender neutral reader, bad ending, descriptions of childhood trauma, original character. Previous chapter | Next chapter

You sit at Wally’s table while he cooks. The sweet aroma of french toast fills your nostrils, and it makes you realize how hungry you are. You spent a lot of energy last night, after all.

You’re still a little in shock from waking up in Home, right next to Wally. That just means…

Oh sweet cupcakes, it means you and Wally spent the night together! You can’t help but wring your hands together, nervous, as you let the thought sink. Did you snore too loud? Did you kick him on accident? Did you drool on the pillow?

Oh good golly, did you sleep talk? What if you said something embarrassing?

What if you said his name?

You cover your face with your hands at the thought, fully knowing you’re capable of doing something like that. You hope nothing like that happened though, or you will never hear the end of it from Wally.

Sighing, you put your hands down on your lap. You realize Wally has been staring at you, the french toasts he was making served on plates on the table. He’s sitting in front of you, leaning his head on his hand, staring at you with lovey eyes.

You blush more, wondering how much time he’s been staring at you like that. He laughs monotonously. Embarrassed, you can only grab your cutlery and start eating your food.

Silence engulfs you both for a little while. It’s comfortable, almost warm, in a way. You think you could maybe get used to this, waking up with Wally every day and eating breakfast together, maybe taking turns on who makes breakfast.

“Are you feeling… a little better than yesterday?” Wally ventures, looking a little nervous.

Oh, right. Last night happened. You seem to forget a lot of things when Wally’s around.

You nod with a mouthful of french toast, and that seems to help Wally relax a little bit. Both of you eat in silence for a little while.

“I’m still a little tired,” you confess. “But… I’m glad yesterday happened. I’m glad we got to have that conversation.”

Wally looks up at that, some leftover guilt in his eyes, but he still offers you a reluctant smile.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at him, because you know he’s sincere and that both of you can work through it this time around. Hope flutters on your chest, makes your heart soar, makes you feel like everything will be alright this time.

“I know, Wally. It’s okay. I promise.”

And Wally gives you that dopey smile that you adore, the one where he slowly blinks like a cat basking in sunlight. Like you’re his sun. And, you realize, he is your sun too.

Julie was right.

You finish your breakfast in comfortable silence, Wally sometimes taking your hand in his’ to draw little circles with his thumb. It makes the butterflies in your stomach return with a new vigor, especially now that you’re hopeful things will go well.

Wally’s voice cut through the silence and as well as your thoughts.

“I… won't erase your memories anymore.” Your heart soared with such words, the hope in your heart rising even more. He looked to the side, him breaking eye contact was a first. It usually meant he was sheepish.

“...I don’t wish to hurt you… and I’m so very sorry I was… I just…” His smile turned downwards into a straight line. It was still so odd to see. His eyes were full of regret. “I wanted to help you not be… sad. You were sad all the time. The memories… they burdened you…” His shoulders deflated, he gently took your hands in his. “I… don’t want you to go back to such a state…”

“Oh, Wally…”

His declaration made your heart ache. He cared so much about you, wanted to be so gentle with you. Wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, unharmed, and happy. Wally just wanted you to be safe.

So you offer him the warmest smile you can manage.

“I’m sure I won’t be the same with you by my side,” you reassure. “Even if I’m sad… you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I can heal,” you promise. “I can heal, and together we can make the rot go away. Little by little. Would you like that?”

And Wally smiles again, nodding, squeezing your hands gently and tenderly rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb.

“Yes,” he says. “I would love that.”

And you can’t help it, you have to get up from your seat and hug Wally. He meets you halfway; and of course you two bump your heads together with a mwah! before hugging each other tight. Your heart is soaring again; you feel the safest, happiest you’ve ever felt in a while. You truly feel like you’re basking in gentle sunlight.

You feel like you’re home.

You truly love Wally Darling.

The both of you stay there, swaying side to side slightly, as if dancing the most tender of dances. At times, Wally hums gently, melodies of the musical you both sang; melodies of destiny, of falling in a love so eternal and earnest it made your heart feel full of nothing but affection.

Eventually, you both part a little. Giggling, you lean into his cheek and give him another mwah! Wally returns the gesture, making you giggle even more. Sighing, you take this time to properly look at the man in front of you; his dopey eyes, his gentle smile, the look he gives you and only you. There’s nothing but love in his eyes when he looks at you, you realize, and your heart feels so full it hurts.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning in subconsciously, not at first. Wally looks vaguely confused, but he’s still smiling at you, like whatever you’re about to do, he’s okay with. And you realize you really want to kiss him, for real this time, because you just love him so much. You love him with your whole heart, your whole being.

So you let yourself lean in. You let yourself have this. And–

SLAM!

“Wally! I hope it’s okay I came in, Home opened the door for me. I was thinking– oh!”

Everyone freezes. Well, everyone except Wally, who looks as relaxed and oblivious as ever. He’s still holding you lazily.

“Hello Julie,” Wally greets.

“Um,” Julie hesitates, looking from Wally to you to Wally again. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Wally replies with a curious tilt of his head. Julie looks at you. You can feel the embarrassment creep up on you and present itself on your face. “Ah, what were you saying?”

And then Julie has this sly, playful look in her face, and you know you’re doomed.

“Oh nothing~ I was just wondering what you were up to. I should’ve known that you two lovebirds would be together first thing in the morning!” Julie says, wagging her eyebrows.

Wally merely blinks. You, on the other hand, are dying as you stare daggers into her. Julie puts her hands on her hips with a teasing smile.

“Did you have a sleepover?”

Wally gives an oblivious, happy smile. You once again realize you’re doomed.

“Yes,” he says innocently. He looks so happy, like a cat getting its chin scratched.

And Julie seems to melt at that, giving a genuine smile.

“Oh Wally,” Julie says, fondly shaking her head. “You’re so smitten! Look at you.”

And he smiles again, giving you a mwah! on the cheek. You’re as red as an apple again.

Julie raises her eyebrows at you. You deadpan at her, still a blushing mess, as you two have a silent conversation through stares alone. Yes, this is how he kisses. No, you two have not actually kissed yet. Now stop staring at me Julie!

Giggling, Julie twirls her dress and clasps her hands together.

“Well! I had come to just ask if Wally wanted to attend Frank’s sleepover party,” Julie explains. “You’re invited too of course! But I see that you two already had a sleepover party…”

“Ah,” you say eloquently. You look at Wally, and he nods at you.

“We’d love to go,” you answer with a smile. Julie jumps on the spot, clapping.

“Wonderful! I’ll see you both there, then! Remember to bring snack and your comfiest pajamas~”

Giggling, you bid farewell to Julie, and she goes hopping in her step. You always wondered how she was always so full of life and energy.

“We get to sleep with each other again!” Wally smiles.

You laugh, albeit warily.

“We’re not sharing a sleeping bag.” “Why not?” His face falls. He looks so genuinely sad. “...”

You sigh, but you do so fondly.

“We can put our sleeping bags next to each other, if you so wish.” “Yay!”

Wally’s smile is dopey, and you melt on the inside. What are you going to do with him, you wonder?

He’ll be the death of you, surely.

* * * * * *

You arrive at the sleepover party together. Wally had insisted on picking you up, and then he held your hand the entire walk to Frank’s house. Him being clingy was cute, you thought. You couldn’t help your dopey smile.

Frank was the one to open the door, and he immediately gave you a sly look. Wally looked a little confused. You, on the other hand, knew that Julie had talked to everyone about this morning by that look alone. Mentally, you prepare yourself for all the incoming teases.

“Welcome, lovebirds,” Frank greets with his stupid sly smile, giving you a wink. Like he had the right to tease you like that. Blushing, you glare daggers at him.

Wally was oblivious to it all the entire time.

“Hello,” Wally greets placidly. Frank closes the door as you both walk inside.

Barnaby, Julie and Poppy are sitting together, playing a board game. They all greet you with cheers, Barnaby throwing a few whistles, because of course he would whistle. You don’t think your blush will ever wear off for the entirety of the party.

Wally greets everyone with his usual friendly smile, while you greet everyone and bear their teasing looks. They’re playing chess, Julie and Poppy going against each other.

“Frank already lost,” Barnaby snickers. Frank only grumbles, crossing his arms, as he swivels his head to the side.

Everyone knows Frank is comically bad at chess. It’s no news, yet it would never stop being funny to everyone.

Slowly, the rest of the guests arrive. First Eddie, apologizing for being so late, but he had a few letters and packages to deliver. Then Sally, bursting with energy as always, taking turns to spin around with everyone, eventually stopping when Frank scolded her for bumping into one of his bookshelves and dropping some of his books.

Howdy, of course, was the last to arrive. He had a shop to run, so it was expected he came in late. Everyone greeted him with enthusiasm, and then you all played some more chess together.

Eventually the moon rose, accompanied by twinkling stars, and you all had to head to sleep. Frank had accommodated his living room to make space for everybody, and you laid your sleeping bag next to Wally’s, as promised.

Since Poppy is big, she laid on the center. For a long while, everyone cuddled around her, like she was a big comfy pillow everyone could rest on. She laughed and took turns hugging everyone, sometimes even singing sweet lullabies.

It was easy to sleep, even with a particular someone cuddling up to your side. It was amusing, you thought as you let your eyes close along with everyone else's.

…

Yet, you found yourself awake.

There was something bothering you in the back of your head, and now that Poppy had stopped singing and the lights were out, it kept you from drifting off to sleep. It became more and more pressing, like an itch you couldn’t help but scratch.

This all seemed so… familiar.

The way everyone was wearing pajamas, with their pillows and sleeping bags. Poppy’s lullabies, the chatter and giddy giggles before going to bed.

But it’s like you had seen this particular scene before, on the outside, not participating. And yet, something was off about the whole thing.

Something was missing.

You can’t recall what it is though. You frown, trying to think more. Whatever could it be? Everyone’s here, and you’re fairly certain no component could be possibly missing. It’s mysterious, and it’s starting to scare you, the thought that something’s wrong, that something isn’t as it should be.

Wally puts his hand on your chest, where your pulse has quickened.

“Is something bothering you?” He whispers. You shake your head.

“Just some silly thoughts,” you confess.

“Do you want help?”

“Now what does that mean…?” You side eye him, and he only wears an innocent smile.

“Just look at me.”

And then it clicks. You know what Wally means. You remember the first time you had stared back at him, the way the world turned on its axis, the fuzzy feeling in your limbs and heart bringing your mind to a silent serenity.

My, that was so long ago…

The thought was comforting, in a way. Every other time Wally had taken you by the strings was not something you liked very much, but this time it felt different.

This time, you felt safe. You trust him.

So you turn around, and look into his eyes. He smiles like you just gave him the best present in the world.

Your trust.

And then the world starts losing its color, as Wally’s eyes grow bigger and bigger. You sigh, a strange wave of comfort washing over you as the world fades away. Nothing matters anymore. Just Wally looking at you, exposing the most vulnerable aspects of himself. The world loses its balance, but Wally’s holding your hands now, so you feel safe even as you fall. You feel blissful. Your eyes start getting heavy.

Breathe, Wally says, but he’s not opening his mouth. He’s just talking in your head.

You take a deep breath, and when you exhale, your limbs feel pleasantly tingly, fuzzy, like you’re floating in warm sunlight.

Good, he says. You keep breathing, and the blissful feeling intensifies. You want to keep your eyes open to look at Wally’s, but your eyelids are so heavy now…

Sleep. We’ll see each other tomorrow.

Your eyes gently close as the world keeps spinning. You feel Wally’s hands squeezing yours, and you feel safe when you fall asleep.

* * * * * *

You’re in that house again. The one that you don’t like, the one that makes you feel unsafe. The one you can’t make yourself call home. But there is one thing that always makes you feel comfort, even if it’s small, no matter what you do.

It’s your favorite plushie.

You pause and look at it. It’s purple, or lilac to be more specific. Its pajamas are a variation of oranges and yellows, in stripes. It has a star pin on its wavy hair. You recall always hugging it when you went to sleep.

You’re holding it now, in one of your hands, as you listen to screams through the closed door.

You’re scared again, so you hug your plushie and curl onto yourself.

It’s your mom and your sibling, you realize. They’re fighting again. You’re trying to be good so your mom doesn’t yell at you, too.

“It’s okay,” you hear someone say by your shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

And then you realize you’re not holding your plushie anymore. Someone is holding you, and you’re hugging them tight. They’re giving you a warm embrace, patting your back gently.

“Let’s go watch the stars. They are far more quiet, haha.”

You found yourself blinking, and seeing the darkness of the sky above you. Had you climbed out your window? You leaned into the warmth next to you. It seemed to sigh fondly.

“There are many constellations in the sky, they are endless. Did you know that?”

You blink a little tiredly. Strangely, this person brings you great comfort, calms you down like no other person has. Well, maybe Wally, you think.

“Who are you?” You can’t help but ask. The figure giggles softly.

“I’m your best friend, silly. Remember?”

And then it clicks, as you slowly lean away and look at this person properly. They’re your plushie. The one that always comforts you when you’re scared, or lonely. The one thing that has kept you happy this whole time.

Your very best friend.

“But,” you ask. “How?”

It doesn’t make any sense. They’re supposed to be a plushie, not a person. How did they come to life?

Were you missing something?

“It’s okay,” they say. “Though, you should be asking that to yourself.”

“What do you mean?” They let out a small sigh, lazily looking up at the sky once more. For a moment or two there was silence, before they looked back at you.

“You come from a place of flesh and blood. You don’t belong in a world made of cotton and thread.”

You frown. Neither of you spoke for a long moment. Fear settles in the center of your chest, because somehow, it makes sense in your head. But you don’t know how.

“What do you mean?” You ask again.

“It’s okay, neighbor,” they say. “I didn’t belong there either.” The small smile on their face turned sad in a way as they held out a hand, presumably to take.

“All roads lead to Home, it is true, but not every home is the same.”

The fear in your chest grows. You start trembling now, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it all. What do those words mean?

“Hm?” The figure looks at you. “You’re anxious again. Let’s count to ten, like we always do.”

And you remember. They had taught you that, you recall distantly. You recall their fuzzy words as they taught you to count to ten whenever you felt nervous, or scared.

So you follow his lead, and you both count. You take a deep breath, and then you let it out.

“1.”

They gently took your hands in theirs. The fuzzy and soft material they were made out of was familiar, it was frustrating how you knew them but you didn’t. What was their name again?

“2.”

They held a lazy smile, one that didn’t falter. It reminded you of Wally. Actually, a lot of things about them did. How could they say they didn’t belong? They clearly held all the qualities everyone else did. It was strange.

“3.”

Your fear started to subside little by little, curiosity with familiarity washing over you as you subconsciously rub your thumb into the felt-made hands of the other. They seemed quietly amused as they didn’t comment on it.

“4.”

But why did your hands feel so different? You looked down. You had five fingers again, and it felt so strange. Like you were different than them somehow. Almost like you were made of something different, something that wasn’t fuzzy. But how could that be?

“5.”

The wind brushed past you both, and their hair swayed only a little, while yours swayed more. Was it thinner? Observing it now, their hair seemed stitched together…

“6.”

All these little details left you with an itch, and itch to know why. An itch that started to gnaw at your insides. You make eye contact with them again, it was dull. Their eyes were black, two voids looking back at you.

“7.”

The voids weren’t threatening by any means, they were just empty. You wondered why, why did your plush hold such a look? Even now, as they sat before you, they felt stiff. They were loose, and had no defining structure. Why?

“8.”

Even with no structure, they felt like any other neighbor. So why weren’t they at Home with you?

“9.”

So many questions, so little answers… Why did it have to be this way? You had just cleared the air with Wally, so why now? Why does this have to happen now?

“10.”

You took another deep breath, and admittedly you felt much better. They knew it too, with how their smile deepened and the way they gently squeezed your hands before letting go.

“You’ll wake up soon.”

Right. This was a dream. Or was it a nightmare? You can’t tell anymore.

“How come you’re not with us?” You can’t help but ask.

“Script changes happen all the time, Star.”

You frown. What do they mean by that? They know you’re confused, you can tell, but they only smile at you.

“Go home,” they say. “Go to your real home.”

And you freeze, because you know. You know you come from elsewhere, but what little you remember makes you want to stay Home so much more than leaving.

Their smile looks sad again, like they know what you’re thinking.

“One deserves to live a life without strings. You shouldn’t let yourself be strung along into the illusion.” They stood up and pulled you up with them. Then, they motioned to the sky.

“A star should be up there, free amongst the cosmos. You should be able to shine.” Then they turned to you, “You may not understand now, but you’re smart, I know you’ll find your way home.” Their gaze softened, “Love is only good when it’s not puppeteered.”

And that makes your heart hurt.

Before you have any more time to process things, your sight gets blurry. You hear noises, noises that you know don’t belong to your dream. Voices, hushed whispers. Your best friend looks up at the sky with another sad smile.

“It’s time to go,” they say. “It’s okay. You’ll find your way home.”

But you don’t want to go. They’re your best friend. You’ll miss them so much.

“Tell me your name,” you beg. But they only shake their head.

“You’ll remember,” they say, and sadness engulfs you even more. And just as they said, when you’re about to wake up, you remember.

Rainy.

#welcome home fic #welcome home oc #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #rainy dewdrop #reader insert #x reader #no use of y/n

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the-void-writes · 3 months

Text

OC Smash Or Pass

Thank you @sergeantnarwhalwrites for the tag! I was a little nervous to do this, but I think it helped me developed my characters a bit more so that’s really nice.

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but have a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc)

I’ll leave this as an open tag for anyone who feels like joining.

OC of choice: Dante Briggs

(I don’t have many drawn pictures of Dante that I like, so please excuse the extra Will in the second pic lol)

Dante is a 28-year-old club owner and robotics engineer who came to Paradise in the 1980’s. He was the first person to catch Vesely’s Infection and survive (hence the gold magic in his arms). The disease gave him power over empathy and mood control.

Propaganda will be under the cut for suggestive content:

Pros:

-He is the biggest, most playful sweetheart in all of Paradise once you get through his walls. He’ll serenade you in public, brag about you to everyone, and make sure that you know every single day that he loves you.

-If you’re a fan of clubs, he’d love to dance with you with the neon lights illuminating your figure. If that’s not your scene, he’s always happy to take you somewhere like a park or field. He loves peace and quiet just as much as he loves parties.

-He built all of his club employees, each one designed for pleasure and fun. He could make tools that would blow your mind. In fact, you may just become his assistant for testing out whatever he makes.

-Empathy powers means that with your permission, he can read your feelings and adjust himself to make you feel incredible.

-Body worship is his specialty. Whatever you’ve got for him to work with, he’ll treat you like a god.

-This man is embarrassingly weak to both praise and voices. Make some noises and tell him how good he’s doing, and he’ll practically melt in your hands.

-Loves letting other people take control sometimes. It makes him feel loved. So go ahead and ask, he’s up for anything.

-You can have the wildest night of your life, and then be treated to a warm bath and leftovers and being held snug under a dozen blankets.

Cons:

-He can start off as kind of annoying and rude. It’s his defense mechanism. You can probably get less of it if you’re a cute blonde guy, though.

-His first answer to most problems is almost always vigilantism. It’s kind of ingrained in his brain, thanks to his late fiancé. Don’t be surprised if he gets into trouble.

-Gets distracted easily. He’ll be kissing your thigh, and then stop to look at the freckles because he thinks they make a shape.

-Constant PDA. He can’t keep his hands off of someone he loves, especially around people that think it won’t last. It’s only a con if you get embarrassed easily.

-King Gazali will think you’re mad for wanting Dante, of all people. They have a complicated friendship.

-His android employees will ask for details all the time. You both will become their gossip topic for a while.

-You might have to drag him away from his workshop because he’s such a perfectionist that he won’t stop until his creations make you see stars.

#tag games #oc smash or pass #wip: for all eternity

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daigina-3 · 2 years

Text

I’m sick rn so I’m just considering Max skating home in the rain because Billy no longer has a car and is no longer alive to give her hostile, tensely quiet rides to and from school, his angry rock music blaring. She can’t ask her mom to pick her up, she’s at work. So it starts raining and by the time she’s home she’s drenched- which is whatever until later the next day she starts feeling hot and a little shaky, like her limbs might give out and her brain is cloudy. Her thermometer reads 101.2*F and probably, she thinks, that’s bad. Mostly, she thinks, this sucks. She rifles through their cabinets and there’s no medicine and she’s so achey and just wants to pass out. She collapses on the couch only to hear a *knock knock* on the trailer’s front door. She groans, too tired to move and half delirious at this point, and rolls over.

“Red?” A voice calls. Another knock. “Hey , Red? Reddd?”

Jesus H. Christ, go away. She just wants to sleep. Another groan.

The knocks are full banging now, and she feels the irritation spill out of her suddenly- because what the *fuck*- she is trying to *sleep*?! She all but shouts out a groan, half way between a zombie moan and a “go away, asshole.”

Eddie opens the door and sticks his stupid head inside. She closes her eyes and tries to will him away but after a second his hand is on her forehead and he’s crouched on the floor next to her while she wastes away on the old worn-in sofa she wishes would swallow her whole.

“What the goddamn, you’re burning up! Where’s-“ he doesn’t finish the question because they both know the answer. At work. At the bar. Called to say ‘at work’ but the background chatter and cursing on the phone said ‘at the bar.’ Eddie’s no stranger to elusive parents.

Max has never been drunk but she bets this is what it feels like. Her head is fuzzy and on fire, she doesn’t feel like she has control over her own body- one minute she’s solid lead on the sofa and the next her arms are floating away from her, pushing Eddie’s dumb annoying hand off her her, flopping over her her eyes to block out the light.

All she can do is croak.

But then Eddie is moving her arm off of her face and she tries to struggle for a second until she feels the cold of a washcloth on her forehead and the weight of a blanket across her body.

“Alright, Sick-o, looks like the lighter I came to bum offa you will have to wait. God you look a ghost.”

She pulls the blanket tighter around her and then creeps open one eye to see Eddie lean over her and use his hands to tuck the blanket snug around her. Eddie Munson is fucking *tucking her in.*

And if she were thinking clearly she would push him off and call him a weirdo, a creep, a long-haired freak and kick the blanket back out because she doesn’t need anyone treating her like a baby But right now, she just feels her eyes watering up. The blanket is so warm and snug around her, the washcloth cool and refreshing. It feels good. Comfy, even.

Is this what it feels like, she thinks? What she could have had if she hadn’t- if Billy hadn’t- or had- she can’t even finish the thought, a warm tear escapes and she screws her eyes shut. Maybe she should just succumb to the heat and the fever and let it all take her away.

But then the TV flicks on in the corner- Eddie fiddling with it to get a good signal before collapsing on the spare bit of sofa at Max’s feet. He pats her leg and points, explaining about the latest episode of whatever stupid TV show she doesn’t care about.

And Eddie is so casual. The same causal way he helped old lady Lister up her porch steps two days ago or how Max spotted him giving his leftover cereal milk to the stray cats that hang around the trailer park. He just talks. like it’s natural. He gets up when she groans and comes back with a glass of water, like it’s an every day thing, to babysit the dumb sick kid who lives across from you. What, just because they saved the world together or whatever that makes them friends? Close?

Family?

“You know I drive the van to school I don’t know why you wouldn’t have just asked- you looked like a drowned rat by the time you rolled in, by the way.”

She groans.

“Listen, just because I’m so busy with my very successful and cool societal club-“

His dumb nerd game.

“And a lucrative business-“

Dealing pot to the other nerds at school.

“- doesn’t mean I can’t give you a lift sometimes. Y’know, Sinclair would have my hide if he knew I was letting you skate home in the rain like a sad little orphan.”

Her breathing pauses. That’s what she is, isn’t she? A sad little orphan? Sure her mom’s there but she’s usually not *there* and Max knows she’s trying her best and only fell off the wagon a couple times- and God, Lucas would think she was so pathetic if he saw her now. So stupid. Who wants to get back together with the local pity-case? Who can’t do anything on her own without falling apart, not even a little head cold.

“He’s been asking, y’know. About you. As if he thinks I, in all my glory and busy, busy life, have time to play matchmaker to the local freshman.”

If Eddie sees her crying, he doesn’t say anything. He knocks her ankle with his heavy-ring clad knuckles and she pushes her feet into his leg, like a pitiful excuse at trying to push him off the couch.

She doesn’t want to push him off the couch.

It’s quiet for a minute, Max’s feet all but halfway in Eddie’s lap as he watches the TV, occasionally tapping his knuckles against Max’s blanket-covered leg to a rhythm she doesn’t know.

Max opens her mouth, dry and weak, to speak. She doesn’t, at first, she just lays there with her mouth open, feeling the presence of Eddie at her feet, here. She closes her mouth, tries to swallow, and opens it again. She wants to say that she can’t believe Lucas would want to be around her, that Eddie would give up his night just to watch her, that Will’s twenty-third offer to play dungeons and dragons was genuine. That Dustin’s invite to dinner at his house was something she could accept. That El would need her when she’s not breaking up with Mike. That anyone needs her. That she deserves any of it. She’s drifting away again, but before she does, she speaks, slow and croaky.

“Next time it rains. I’ll find you.”

She can’t see it, but even with her half- floated away brain she can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice.

“That’s all I ask, Maxie.”

She falls asleep.

#I have such a head cold I feel like garbage it’s 3 am here you go #sthings #stranger things #max mayfield #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson #he’s just a good brother with no siblings so he’s everyone’s good brother

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camelcasebestcase · 2 months

Note

crafting asks: 5, 6, 11!

5. anything you have made that you hated?

I once knitted a sleeveless cardigan out of leftover yarn of several colours with large seed stitch diamonds that just turned out super disappointing. It took forever, was boring to knit, and when finished was a little bit too small for me. I ended up donating it.

6. anything you made that you loved?

I love most of the things I've made, so I took a picture of some hightlights.

The first thing I knit (apart from some practice squares that are lost to time), at age 16-17 (it took that long lol), was a 3 meter 4th doctor scarf. I would even work on it between classes at school. You can see where I started, because there's a bunch of dropped stitches there, and one botched colour change, and on the other end my knitting had become so much more even. I couldn't get all the colours from the same brand, so I went to different shops and bought all kinds of different yarns - that's why the edge is so wobbly, there's a lot of different weights!

It looks decent and it taught me so much, I'll always cherish it for that reason, though I rarely wear it anymore because it's impractical.

The sweater is from 2021. Kind of a 10 years of knitting anniversary! It's pure wool (A sheep and alpaca blend if I recall correctly) and very warm. I don't love the cold, but I love that I can wear this sweater when it's cold! It's part of why I often have to turn up the heat a bit for guests in winter... I used a standard drops sweater pattern for the shape of the sweater, and came up with the colour pattern myself. The collar is kinda improvised, but I like how it turned out. I love working with colours, thought recently I have been branching out into doing more with cables too. I calculate how many stitches I have, figure out whether I can divide that by something like 16 or 20, and then draw out patterns until I find something I like on 5 mm paper.

I carved the symbol into the prayer bench when I volunteered in Taizé, a religious community in France which organizes retreats for particularly young people. It's my rendition of the orange origami boat, the symbol of the German pro-refugee movement (I don't think it's used as much anymore). Before I was in Taizé, I volunteered in a women's center for refugees in Greece for half a year. Nowadays my pro-refugee activities mostly consists of donating. If you want to help, considering donating to action for women, offene arme, equal rights beyond borders if you want to support the small organizations whom I have personally seen doing amazing work, or doctors without borders if you prefer an org with a wider scope who also does great work there.

The potholders are the first and so far only thing I quilted- they are completely hand-quilted from thrifted fabrics, and I love how they turned out. I now have a sewing machine, and yesterday a friend got it to work, so there's gonna be a lot of quilting in my future I hope!

The shirt is bought, but I embroidered the flowers with perl cotton. I had done some cross-stitch before, but this was the firs time I did this kind of embroidery. I based the flowers on the drawings of the herbs in pathologic 2, and used some instructional videos on youtube to figure out how to stitch them.

11. best thing about [your craft] is?

I mostly knit, but what I like in any craft is to make things that are are both pretty and can be used. And I can make exactly what I want! Of course, with literally *all* of these, there are things that could be improved. With everything I make, I reflect on what I made before, and change how I do it. But while everything I make is flawed, it's already great for just existing. It's fun to make things, and it's fun to use things I have made. The options are endless.

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dyketennant · 3 months

Text

not to get sentimental about humanity or whatever but actually yeah there is good out there guys. i promise you i promise you there is so much good. look here is my list:

when i was a really little kid i cried after losing a carnival game (obviously i was 4 so i sucked at it) and the pre-teen age boy who won gave me his prize. i'm pretty sure i still have it somewhere 15+ years later.

one time i was crying on the train and the woman across from me gave me a snack from her bag; i tried to wish her a good day as she got off at her stop and was worried she didn't hear me, but the woman next to me reassured me she had without me ever asking.

when i had a meltdown at the hozier concert because my $40 t-shirt was stolen, someone behind me who was about my age gave me a fidget toy, and when i tried to return it they told me i could keep it (i still use it often, it's one of my favorites).

at the same concert, during the same meltdown when i was in the bathroom, the woman in the stall next to me asked me if i was okay and told me that things like that had happened to her, but that i still got to be there and (in her words) "see the guy" and it made things a little easier for me (i only ever saw her heels and her fingernails, but i later found out she was my dad's coworker, and she told him she was glad im doing better now).

in my freshman year of high school, i complimented a guy's overwatch shirt and we talked about it for a while before class started; years later he told me that it was the nicest anyone had ever been to him up until that point and that he still appreciated it—which shocked me, because he ended up being one of the most popular kids at school and is still good friends with a lot of my friend group.

when i was talking to my asl professor about why i was out of class for a few days (i was in the hospital for a few days following a suicide attempt) she hugged me and told me i was beautiful, and i still think about that professor nearly every day, and how she would always tell us about how much she loved her wife and their life together.

not long after that, my english professor reached out and wished me a happy thanksgiving because she knew i had been having a rough semester, even though she didn't have to and probably didn't do that for any other students (as far as i know).

when i was sorting through old papers i found years of hand drawn and painted birthday cards from one of my best friends, who made me one every year, and it made me realize how long they had been there for me during my worst.

i always start to feel dread when i leave for school, but one day, a girl accidentally got off the elevator on my floor, and then i proceeded to get off on a different wrong floor, and we both ended up in the same elevator and laughed about how we both made the same mistake, and wished each other a good day. it made my walk to the bus stop a bit easier.

at a writing conference, as part of a writing exercise, a woman told me a story about how she left her shitty ex boyfriend and had been single since, and i told her about how much i loved media analysis and symbolism; i wrote her a poem and she drew me a drawing. we never spoke again, but for a few minutes, it felt like we were old friends.

one of the bartenders at my old job loved our coconut macaroons, so i would save one for him so he could have it with his coffee. it was such a simple exchange, but it made me feel warm every time.

at that same job, i worked on my birthday, and once we were closed i asked the kitchen for any leftovers they had. they ended up making me an entire appetizer and singing happy birthday to me.

one time in the coffee stand drive thru, the guy taking my order got excited when he saw the pokemon on my dashboard, and pointed to his car across the parking lot with a gyrados in it. he then pulled a bracelet out of his pocket that said "cute" and said i could have it because of all my cute pokemon. later, i went again while wearing it and saw him, and his coworker said that he just loves making bracelets for people.

for whatever reason, a claw machine at a mall nearby had fraggle rock plushes inside; my friend and i spent forever trying to get some, but couldn't, and we both struggled to find good listings online. when i finally got my friend a mokey plush for christmas, they tackled me in a hug, and it's now one of my happiest memories (they then insisted on paying for my boober plush later on, so now we match).

and i am certain there are many many more instances i am forgetting. and i know things are fucking bleak now and always. and i know it's hard to see. but there is so much good. there is so much love. even from strangers. please believe me. life can be so full of love.

#recovery

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brandnewhuman · 2 years

Note

Baking with the slashes except you can’t cook and it’s utter chaos😼

(specifically OG Michael Myers because that man has no patience and stinky wall man because I’m a sad simp)

BAKING CHAOS

☆STARRING☆

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE aka stinky wall gremlin

MICHAEL AUDREY MYERS aka unhinged stabby bastard

CONTENT :

Tw: none. Well- there's Michael so you never know.

A/N: it's me, I'm the idiot who bakes without being capable of even warm up leftovers. And you have managed to pick the two worst people to help someone in the kitchen. I LOVE IT. mostly because I get to mcbully Michael. Anyhow thanks for the request^^ I hope you enjoy it!!

MICHAEL MYERS:

You know damn right that everything you bake or cook is most likely not even edible

To put it in a nice way.. your cooking skills are FOUL. JAIL TO YOU AND THE ATROCITIES YOU COOK

but, you wanted to do something nice for Michael

He has been so lovely lately and you're getting along pretty fine these days

The fact that this is how you choose to repay him is just straight up cruel

Since you have noticed he has a sweet tooth you thought it would actually be a really funny and bonding experience to bake something together

Y/n…really what the fuck

This man eats DOGS. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT BAKING

nonetheless you convinced Michael into helping you promising that what you were making it was going going be all for him

Little does Audrey (yes I now like to call him by his middle name) knows that he shouldn't want to even touch anything that you made

"Look Michael, it's easy!! We just need to follow the recipe and in no time you'll have your cake"

Don't you feel… silly? Don't you feel a…little ashamed?

Michael didn't say no to you just because you seemed so happy to spend time with him that it made his heart swell a little bit

He actually enjoyed doing things together, he felt less uncomfortable when having something to do that shows he cares instead of having to say it or to give physical affection

In all honesty, you both were starting pretty good.

He was in charge of mixing and you only had to measure things and add them to the bowl.

Your mistake was thinking you were able to get the amounts right without proper measuring utensils

Michael was watching you a little bit confused about what you were doing.

In his defence he has tried to stop you but you just did what you wanted which ended up in him getting frustrated

Which also leaded to him holding both of your wrist and shaking them so hard you had to drop everything you were holdings

He really said "You're baking rights have been removed"

Problem is that Michael should get his baking rights removed too. Not only the baking ones but in generale he shouldn't be allowed to have rights cause he abuses the shit out of them

He started to add too many things and then when the batter started to look weird he got angry

Clue the death glares he is sending you

"Wha- DON'T FUCKIN TRY TO PUT THE BLAME ON ME OR I WILL FIGHT YOU"

Spent the next 30 minutes arguing. Well you were arguing he was just staring at you and occasionally he would make a frustrated gesture to let you know you're guilty of ruining his cake

You two manage to finish and when it comes out of the oven i-

It shouldn't be illegal. It looks like it's about to wake up and start being a menace for the human species

Michael was at his limit with all of this so he just points to the cake and then you

"I- I'M NOT EATING THAT. YOU DO. YOU'RE THE ONE EATING ALWAYS GARBAGE."

Mind that, you're the one cooking for him lately. The garbage is YOUR handmade garbage

Michael is now offended.

HE TOLD YOU ONCE (1) ABOUT THE DOG THING AND NOW YOU'RE BRINGING IT UP ALL THE TIME

he does feel bad tho cause deep inside he knows it's his fault too

Using that feeling and the "I've eaten worse so what could ever happen" he takes a few bites

One more bite, ONE, and you could call yourself the one who killed the shape of haddonfield

Man is fighting against God to stay alive after putting that in his mouth

"Michael!! Stop it, you're going to get sick!!"

He tried to eat another piece cause he really reaaally wanted some cake even if it was this disgusting offensive thing

Moral of the story

You have to buy sweets for Michael, when he will get better after eating your attempt of murder

And YOU should not be allowed in the kitchen.

Y/N just…stick to simple meals please, we can't afford another dead slasher here.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE:

You're going to traumatise him

He already absolutely forbidden you to cook any type of meals that were not as simple as cutting up things or warming them up

The first day as his nanny you made the most atrocious and disgusting dinner he has ever had

Like it was just plain offensive.

Taking advantage of the whole ghost thing he wrote on the rules "pretty y/n should never cook"

He put pretty in it, at least he tried to be nice

How mad he was that he got caught by you because he was hungry and was trying to make something for you and for him

Now fast forward to present day

You were bored out of your mind. Brahms didn't help much cause he was really caught up in a new book you have bought him

So what best way to spend the evening if not proving your stinky boyfriend wrong about your cooking skills

You had saved a lot of recipes you wanted to try cause they were simple enough for you to follow

"Brahms, would you like some biscuits?"

He didn't waste any time nodding vigorously. Who wouldn't want biscuits?

"But I thought we run out of biscuits yesterday" "that's why we will do our own biscuits:D"

He got up, grabbed the rules and put them in front of your face, pointing to the no cooking rule. "You're not allowed."

I- HOW DARE HIM

After numerous tantrums and pleads to spare him from eating whatever you were trying to make he accepted to help you only on one condition

You would have to eat them first and if he finds out by your reaction their bad he's giving them to Malcolm and never letting you do it again

So now you're both gathering all the ingredients for some vanilla biscuits

You were really confident about this whole thing as you started to add things into a bowl

Brahms was confident that you would end up food poisoning yourself and he would have to find another nanny

"Pretty y/n I don't think you should put that much vanilla extract" "y/n darling I think that's too much baking powder"

After the 15th time correcting you he just stopped being nice and chose violence

"They're going to be disgusting and I'm not eating them. YOU'RE PUTTING TOO MUCH BUTTER FOR FUCK'S SAKE"

Needless to say he got humbled very quickly by being reminded the only cooking skill he had was being able to cut in triangles a pb&j sandwich

Because of that you had to take a break to comfort a butthurted brahms

Even with all of this you then kept preparing the biscuits.

You both were acting like gremlins without any coordination or knowledge of anything whatsoever

In the end you were both just adding shit for the sake of doing it

He was actually getting worried about you eating that cause as time went by he was less and less sure that monstrosity was edible

When the biscuits were done they looked…fine?

Like they were ugly as fuck but they didn't seem that bad

"Y/n…you don't have to, you know that right?? I don't want you to be sick"

Now you say it? DO I REALLY KNOW IT BRAHMS?

you eat one out of spite because you wanted to prove brahms wrong

And HE WAS WRONG. they were super sweet but other than that best biscuits ever

You could've cried. Deep down you were worried of having to eat whatever you would end up doing

"I don't believe you, you're surely trying to trick me"

God, one day he's going to catch this hands

"Alright I guess no biscuits for you then"

What- you're trying to deprive HIM of biscuits? Not today Satan

Listen…I always thought brahms would be one that even if it's hard he would admit when he's wrong and eventually say sorry

This time tho…this hurts more than any other time.

He SWEARS it was just luck that they turned good

Which is right but HE DIDN'T HAVE TO KNOW

you just kept telling him that you knew what you were doing and that he was just being rude having so little faith in you

I think I don't really have to explain what happens when he ends up believing you and asking you for the same exact biscuits again.

#slasher community #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher fanfiction #horror movies #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire headcanons #og michael x reader #og michael myers headcanons #og michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers #halloween #the boy 2016

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mimisempai · 1 year

Text

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Bill wakes up the next morning and all traces of Frank's passage are gone. What if it was all a dream?

Notes

Bill and Frank's story is so beautiful, so real... I wanted to add my little bit to it. Without pretention.

On AO3

Rating T - 2089 words

“So, if I do this, I am gonna stay for a few more days.”

Bill woke up with the last words of Frank's that he remembered in his mind. He moved slowly in bed, his cheeks slightly flushed as he thought about what had happened just after those words.

Once he turned over, he gasped.

No one.

He reached out his hand.

The place next to him was cold.

What if everything was a dream?

What if everything was an illusion?

What if after all this time, he had gone crazy?

Yes.

A dream, that must be it.

Because... how to explain that in less than twenty-four hours, not only had he offered a meal to a man, given him clothes, let him play on his mother's piano?

How to explain that not only had he spent the night with a complete stranger, but had slept by his side in complete trust?

Then how to explain that a man like Frank would want to be with someone like him? Of course it could only exist in a dream.

But it had felt so real.

He dragged himself out of bed and put on his clothes.

He had to fill up the generator, check the gate, and then he could make himself breakfast.

Like every morning.

Nothing had changed.

It had only been a dream.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't help but look at the piano.

Of course the cover was closed. He couldn't help but open the sheet music case and rummage through it until he found Linda Rondstadt's songbook.

His eyes fell on the last line of the chorus.

“And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time.”

It had been so long since he had sung that song. Long before the epidemic started, so long before.

"So, who's the girl?"

He had just raised his hands from the piano and Frank asked, "So, who's the girl?" He moved closer and clarified his question, "Girl you're singing about?"

Bill shook his head and didn't dare look up as he replied, "There is no girl."

He didn't know what he expected in response but certainly not Frank's warm hand on his shoulder, as warm as his voice when he said softly, "I know."

He also didn't expect the man's lips on his, nor did he expect his teary cheeks when he asked, still with the same smile on his lips.

"What's your name?"

But he recognized the emotion in the other man's eyes.

The emotion that was his when he answered, "Bill."

Bill closed the score book, put it back in the case and closed it with a snap. The sound pulled him out of his reverie.

He muttered deprecatingly, "You idiot, it was just a dream. A fucking dream."

As if to prove him right, when he turned to the dining room, the table was spotless, no leftovers from the previous night's meal, no plates, no glasses, no Beaujolais wine. The chairs were as always neatly arranged around the table and the wood of the tabletop was perfectly clean.

As he opened the bottle of Beaujolais, all he heard were Frank's moans of pleasure as he enjoyed his first bite of meat.

Bill had never cooked for anyone other than his mother in his later years and this was the first time he had seen someone actually enjoy what he had prepared.

He looked at Frank and couldn't help but smile at his look of pure delight.

He said softly but still deprecatingly, "Everything tastes good when you're starving."

Frank shook his head, "Yeah but not like this."

Then Bill poured him the wine and Frank, having just swallowed, added, "A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais."

Bill, who really wasn't used to compliments, replied in a self-deprecating tone, barely meeting Frank's eyes, "I know I don't seem like the type."

But the other man's expression became serious again and, boring his clear gaze into Bill's, he said gently but firmly, "No, you do."

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, and Bill, not being able to take it anymore, looked down and returned to his seat on the other side of the table.

He had this strange feeling that Frank had seen him. That Frank knew him.

Intimately.

Bill chuckled bitterly.

More proof that this had all been a story from his imagination. Because in reality, if there was a Frank and Frank knew him, there was no way he would want to stay with someone like him.

He'd had dreams a long time ago. Because before he was a paranoid survivalist, he had been a dreamy teenager. Introverted and dreamy.

And he had to admit that the Frank of his imagination was exactly the kind of person he dreamed of. He dreamed about it because it was exactly the kind of person he would never meet in reality.

"Oh crap, you're up already!"

Bill turned with a sharp movement to find himself facing Frank who was holding a tray with everything needed for a breakfast for two.

The other man continued to speak, "Did I wake you up? Yet I tried not to make any noise. I wanted to surprise you! You looked like you were sleeping so soundly then I- Bill?"

Bill had come up to him and was reaching his hand toward his face, hesitantly, almost as if he were afraid to touch him. He moved closer still until his fingers brushed Frank's cheek. At first very lightly, then more strongly.

Frank, looking puzzled, asked again, "Bill?"

Bill swallowed several times and whispered in a shaky voice, "You...you're real?"

Frank chuckled softly, "Yes, absolutely real." Then, seeing from Bill's expression that the question was not a matter for joking, he set the tray down on the buffet beside him and turned again to Bill, whose hand had hung in the air where it had touched Frank's cheek. He grasped the other man's hand and, kissing the palm gently he repeated determinedly, his eyes in Bill's, "Yes, I am real."

Bill shook his head, and with his voice tight with emotion, whispered, "That's not possible. This kind of thing doesn't happen to me. It can only be a dream."

Frank smiled fondly and cupped Bill's face in his hands, "I'm flattered that you think I'm from a dream, but this kind of thing really happens to you and it's reality." He gently pressed his lips to Bill's in a long, deep kiss. Then sliding his hands down the other man's arms, he grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the table from which he pulled out one of the chairs and made Bill sit down. Frank pulled out another chair to sit across from him and grabbing the other man's hands again between his own, he asked him softly, "What made you think this wasn't real?"

Bill lowered his head and with his eyes on his hands in Frank's, he suddenly felt like a complete idiot. One of Frank's hands released his and grabbed his chin, making him lift his head, "Hey, don't be like that. I'm not blaming you. I genuinely want to know."

Frank caught a strand of Bill's hair that fell in front of his eyes and pushed it back behind his ear. This simple, delicate gesture brought tears to Bill's eyes. Frank insisted, and said as gently as ever, "Tell me..."

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat and with his voice above a whisper, he explained, "When I woke up I was alone, I... the piano was closed, the sheet music was put away, the table was clean, there... there was no trace of you. And then did you look at me... ? I had every reason to believe that it had all been a dream. How could I have believed otherwise? How could someone like you... with someone like me?"

Bill was trying hard to hold back the tears, not wanting to appear weaker than he already was. But still, one managed to escape and was intercepted gently by Frank's thumb, which wiped it away gently.

"Oh Bill..."

Frank leaned over and gave him another long kiss before replying, "This morning I was up early, force of habit. And as I told you, you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you up. Then, if, as I understood, you are someone who likes things to be in their place, I put everything away as it was before. I'm sorry, I didn't think that-"

Bill shook his head, "No, please don't apologize, I'm the one who-"

Frank stopped him by putting a finger to his lips, "Stop that right now. Like I told you last night, I'll stay a few more days, at least. And I have one condition. There will be no 'someone like me' and 'someone like you'. There will be no 'I don't seem like the type.' You are not less than me and I am not more than you. I know it all happened quickly, I know we're still a long way from knowing each other, but I also know that I feel the promise of something strong."

Bill shook his head, but Frank continued, "Don't tell me it's because there's no choice. Because it seems to me that tonight neither you nor I were there as a consolation prize, if you know what I mean. Bill, I don't know much about you, but what I can tell you is that you are worth so much more than you think. So much more. And I want to be there to make you realize that. If you want me to. So if you tell me to leave because you don't want anything to do with me, I'll leave. No hard feelings. But be clear, be honest, no false reasons like you won't be good enough for me or I'll be too good for you or anything like that."

Bill felt at that moment like he was on the edge of a precipice, he could either jump into the unknown or just back away to a safe place. His instincts were screaming at him to get back to safety but could he go back after what had happened in the last few hours? Could he go back to what his life was like before? Did he want to?

Without Frank.

Who in a few hours had broken down one barrier after another.

“Everything tastes good when you're starving.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais.”

“I know I don't seem like the type.”

“No, you do.”

“So, who's the girl? Girl you're singing about?”

“There is no girl.”

“I know.”

“Have you ever done this before?”

“With a girl a long time ago, but...”

Yeah, I know, so... I'm gonna start with the simple things.”

“If I do this, I am gonna stay for a few more days. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

Of course he couldn't go back.

"Okay, I get it."

He was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of Frank who was withdrawing his hand from Bill's cheek and starting to back away. For the first time since they had known each other the smile was gone from his face.

Bill grabbed his hand and whispered, "Stay."

Then he repeated louder and more clearly, "Stay. Please. Stay."

The smile returned to Frank's lips as he replied, "Yeah. Yes. I'll stay. I'll stay."

This time it was Bill who reached out to Frank. He was the one who brought his face to his and pressed his lips against his.

They kissed for a long time, both crying in the kiss, and when they broke apart to catch their breath, they chuckled softly together.

After a few seconds Frank planted one last kiss on Bill's lips and in a lighter tone said, "Let's get that breakfast." He continued to speak as he stood up, "So I don't know what you usually have, so I made a little of everything. I hope you don't mind me wasting some of the groceries, but I did what I-"

He set the tray down in front of Bill, who put his hand on top of his and said simply, "That's perfect like that."

Frank smiled again and nodded before taking a seat next to him.

Bill looked briefly at the other end of the table. Yet another barrier broken.

Yes, it was perfect like that.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Bill and Frank masterlist : here

#the last of us show #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #bill and frank #bill/frank #bill the last of us #frank the last of us #I love them already so much #episode 3 related

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