#Mike's also completely fucked up if you didn't notice

[lemonisntreal]

Hello! I just wanna say that love your content!

I was also wondering what's your favourite thing to incorporate into your designs of the characters detail wise? (ie. jewelry, patterns, accessories etc)

Have an amazing day!!

Oh man- I love everything about character redesigning tbh. The most obvious thing for me to say is my favorite would be scars- not only are they fun to draw and add a little flavor to the character design, but I feel like they can kinda tell a story without words. You don't need a backstory to be spelled out for you if you're given enough context clues + the character has scars.

They can also make the viewer have a lot of like "oh damn how did that happen" kind of thinking, and it creates a lot of intrigue, despite how cliche they can be [I refuse to do eye-scars hehe]. So they're extremely fun.

I also like doing jewelry and accessories- but more broadly, I just LOVE changing up a character's outfit in general :D

Not anything obnoxious [unless you're Nooshy, which in that case-] or anything that would be out of character for them to wear ofc. But I think things like having Charley's jacket look more full and cozy and give him a necklace, or have Buster's blazer get turned into a tailcoat [scrungly], or making Eddie's bright jacket be more of like a raincoat [also because it sucks when wool gets wet in the rain lol] or- Ash specifically has like a million outfits I like to draw her in. The list could continue forever.

But I think the most clear and obvious thing I like to do to characters is- for lack of a better way of putting it- completely change up how they look physically to either be more in line with how their irl animal counterpart looks, or to better fit their personality that may or may also have been changed by a plethora of headcanons I have. One of my friends described it as a character being "Lemified" and now the word "Lemification" has permanently been branded into my vocabulary.

Uh- the most obvious example of this is Judith. A character that's been changed so much for Tone Deaf that they're barely recognizable anymore past their name. I turned them into an enby capable of ripping your soul out of your body- 7'4" with a hat and peacoat and sharp teeth. And, most importantly, screentime. Mwahaha-

Another thing is the horns I gave Eddie- like they're such a crucial part of how I draw him now. Same goes for Meena's tusks, which you may not even know they have, because I don't draw her enough, but yeah. They have tusks lmao.

And what I think is my best change, Charley and Buster's double thumbs. I used to hate them but now I love them. Like they're one of my favorite parts about drawing Buster now- I always put a huge focus on his big paws and extra thumbs and the claws too. Omfg. I give a bunch of characters claws that they didn't have before, I fucking love claws >:D

...I'm reading back and starting to realize that between the scars I give characters and the claws that I draw them with, I might just like anything that can make a story possibly darker o_o

Uh, TLDR; I like violence :/ [mostly a joke lol]

[glisten-inthedark]

The Experiment | Part 2

In case y'all missed it, I asked one of my best friends to watch Stranger Things and here's what she had to say about season 1 and 2 .

Now, here's the updated version of season 3 that she finished so fucking fast and I felt guilty because she told me didn't sleep because she was desperate for answers, my sweet summer child.

This time around she'd update me as she watched the episodes and needless to say I woke up today with way too many messages

She's 100% convinced that Mike is gay because she said and I quote: "What teenage boy takes off the hands of his girlfriend like he did?".She also said that Mike should remember that friendships are important too, she doesn't understand why he's avoiding his friends and focusing too much on El.

She loves Max Mayfield BTW (again, sweet summer child). She 100% agrees that El needs to learn how to be herself without the influence of others.

She said that the biggest problem she has with Mike and El is that El didn't even know what a friend was the first season, how can se be in a relationship? However, she does think that if Mike learns how to listen to her they might work it out but she's not sure they should. "Ok I guess they're not going to work it after all" says her after their break up. Also, she was like: "shouldn't he be more upset about this?

In comes the rain fight scene and I think the conversation deserves to be in a mural somewhere. This is what she said and I apologize for the language and for how she talks about Mike but this deserves to be translated in it's entirety because her rant was epic.

"Why. The. Fuck. Was Mike being such an ass?! He used to be so sweet to Will and now he's treating him like this? Hell nah! Like, I get that he wants to spend time with his girlfriend and that's fine, but that doesn't mean he gets to treat Will like this!

And who the fuck said anything about Will not liking girls? Will didn't! So why the fuck would Mike say this completely unprovoked? Like, this is the kind of shit Will's bullies would say! I don't know who the fuck this Mike is, but it's definitely not the kid from last season.

"Oh se he goes to apologize to Will but doesn't apologize to El?" She asked me after she calmed down from her seething rage. "Inch teresting"

"Oh boy, Billy is gonna die. Am I supposed to want him not to?".

"How the fuck did Soviet Union manage to build this entire lab underground without anyone noticing? And this is I'm thr hight of cold war too, makes no sense but what do I know?"

She absolutely adores Robin, she thinks she and Steve will get together.

"Am I supposed to feel bad for Billy?" Needless to say, she doesn't like Billy.

"What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Watching?" She asked during the people turning into slush scene.

"Oh. So I guess Robin and Steve won't get together after all" lmao I laughed.

"Oh they do want me to feel sorry for Billy, huh"

She had a mental breakdown over Hop's "death". She sent an invoice crying and cursing me for bribing her into watching the show.

She also noticed how unresponsive Mike acted after El told him she loved him and was like: "is this boy ok? Like, I'm sorry Bia (my nickname) but you're telling me he just stood there with his eyes opened while she declared her love and kissed him? Am I watching this right? Answer me dammit!" (She was angry when I refused to tell her anything lmao).

Now, bare in mind that I haven't told her about Byler at all, didn't even tell her I ship it because I wanted her to be as unbiased as possible. She told me she had thoughts/theories and I told them to share them even after she claimed she didn't think she was right.

This bellow are her thoughts and hers alone, translated from Brazilian Portuguese to English.

"I just feel like Hop's letter is telling us something about Mike, maybe? Like, how he's afraid of change, of confronting his feelings, maybe? Like, I know you won't tell me, but I don't think this scene is about El leaving at all, I think it's about Will leaving.

"But I have a theory? I don't know, but the scene parallels the scene from when they find Will's body, right? But he comes home and holds his mom and I think this when he realized he has feelings for Will? Maybe? Or at the very least he realized he isn't straight.

" I didn't think Will was gay until I saw his reaction to what Mike said, and I think Will felt that he was stupid for believing that Mike cared for him at all. He destroyed the castle because he lost his childhood, he lost everything when he wasn't even looking, and I also think he called himself stupid because he thinks it was stupid of him to hope Mike could ever think of Will that way.

"I don't think Mike truly loves El, and he's coming to terms with the reason why he doesn't"

She then begged me for information which I refused to give her, obviously. But this is part 2. Now onto the last season *laughs maniacally *

[robynrocksforbrains]

I love you ×9

Ok so I am probably not the first person to notice this or point it out since I've only been a byler for like six months... BUT I did maybe go a little crazy about this. So I'm gonna talk about it.

So a few days ago I was thinking about the mlvn endgame argument "well Mike said 'I love you' nine times". And like, first of all, saying "I love you" doesn't undo a year's worth of deliberate lying and miscommunication. That's not how relationships work. Their issues are still very much real and very much not going anywhere because they're not even TRYING to do anything about them. But also... I was thinking: why nine times? Why that number specifically? Was it just random? Is there maybe anything to indicate that nine is significant? Is there maybe a scene in the first episode of s4 that tells us how we should react to the monologue?

So, the DND basketball montage. Great stuff. Amazing foreshadowing. Everyone loved it.

I got to thinking about it. Decided I needed to know what Mike's roll was. I kinda spiraled about it on twitter because I could not see it clearly and I couldn't tell if it was an eight or nine. Desperate times called for desperate measures so I recorded my tablet with my phone and found the perfect frame.

IT'S A NINE

CLEAR AS DAY! IT'S A NINE! GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!

Anyway, I don't know how DND works. I don't know why this roll evoked the reaction it did from the party - most significantly, Mike's very disgruntled reaction (I don't mean The Party™ I just mean literally the party that is playing this campaign) I genuinely don't know what the fuck is going on in this game. But what I do know is they wanted us to associate this roll with failure. That's why it corresponds with a missed basket in the basketball game. That's why Eddie gets this ooo that sucks for you guys look on his face. That's why we hear a chorus of "nooo" from the party. That's why Mike says "no no no" and looks extremely upset. I don't know anything about DND, but I can read context clues.

So I'm not going to try to understand what's going on in the game, I'm just gonna go off what I think they wanted us to subconsciously pick up on.

So they show us all of this. They associate Mike with the number nine in the first episode and then that number shows up AGAIN in the last episode.

The monologue cannot be associated with anything but failure. Whether that be mlvns failing relationship, or their very real failure to save Max (at least before El revived her), and their failure to save Hawkins. The monologue does not stand apart from that. It is completely interwoven with these failures. If you have average media literacy, you know that. Even before I was aware of just how important byler is to this entire story, before I was aware that they've been setting up byler endgame since day one, you would never catch me thinking that the monologue was supposed to be received positively by the audience. You would never catch me saying mlvns love saved the world. (Although that's because I genuinely forgot about mlvn a few weeks after I watched s4). I think I received the monologue in the way it was intended to be received. I didn't fully understand it, or why they would execute it the way they did, but I still received it in the way I believe it was intended to be.

So I know the general agreement among bylers is that the monologue kinda sealed the deal for mlvn bones. Like I'm not saying anything new really. But I genuinely do think that Mike's roll in episode one, the reactions to it, and the missed shot it corresponds with were meant to foreshadow the monologue and how they wanted the audience to receive it.

This is fiction, everything means something. Everything is thought of. The timer (and maybe scores, I genuinely can't remember) in the basketball game had significance. Other rolls in the DND game had significance. Why would that be any different for Mike? Especially when his roll was a nine and that number shows up for him again when he says "I love you" nine times. And both of these things are associated with failure.

Not that we need any other reason to interpret the monologue as a less than good thing. It's just the way that it is, it's pretty easy to figure out how they wanted us to take it. But they still did give us a hint. I think it's really cool.

[reareaotaku]

My Sweet Valentine

Fuck Valentine's Day and every single couple ever! Also I know Valentine's Day has already past smartass. Leave me alone

Summary: How they act 4 Valentine's Day? Characters: Mike Wheeler, Luke Sinclair, Jane 'Eleven' Hopper, Maxine 'Max' Mayfield, Billy Hargrove, Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley [I was going to do Eddie Munson, but I didn't want to write for him] Tw: None [That I know of]

Mike Wheeler

He was FREAKING out

He had completely forgotten about Valentine's Day, because it never was important to him, because he never had a partner before

God, he's so fucked

Throws something together last second and hopes you don't notice [You do]

He tries coming up with an excuse but, he doesn't convince you

He tries getting his sister's help, as a last resort, but she makes it harder for him

She starts scolding him for forgetting and complaining about how she couldn't believe they were related

Feels extremely guilty when you give him stuff, stuff he likes. He actually thinks about death right then and there because he knows that he's so getting dumped

Thankfully, you don't dump him [He's thrilled because he doesn't know what he'd do without you], but you do ignore him and give him the cold shoulder for a few days until he makes it up to you

Lucas Sinclair

He has been preparing for this moment all year

No way was he ending up in the dog house

He goes all out, getting you all that stupid stuff [Teddy bears, chocolate, roses etc]

He even makes a poster that has some stupid basket ball pun asking if you'll be his Valentine

Makes him so giddy when seeing you so happy to receive the gifts

Puffs his chest out in pride, because he did that

He'll be surprised when you pull out some Valentine's stuff for him

He wasn't expecting it and now you have him blushing

"For me?"

"Well, I don't have another boyfriend"

He frowns, but ultimately takes the gifts

Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

Valentine's Day? What's that?

Pretty clueless on the holiday, but when she learns about it, she falls in love instantly

She thinks it's so cute and wants to do something special with you

"What do couples usually do on Valentine's Day?"

"Well, they do a lot of stuff... You know, there isn't just one thing- You know?"

She hums, but she does in fact not know what you mean, but it's easier for her to pretend she does

"But uh, if there's something in particular you want to do-"

"I want to do it all!" She's quick and blushes because she didn't mean to outburst like that

You giggle, "I love your enthusiasm, but we can't do everything, but we can do most of it"

You both make cards for each other and she enjoys the time she's spending with you

She ends up loving the holiday and excited for next year, because she wants to do everything else that you couldn't do this year

Maxine 'Max' Mayfield

She does not give a shit about that stupid stuff

If you get her something, cool, but it's not needed

If you want to do something, you'll have to talk to her, otherwise it's just another day to her

She might give you one of those stupid Valentine's Cards, just because she sees all the other couples doing it, but it's not something she thinks about

When she's writing your name on it, she frowns, because what if you don't like it?

She knows you deserve better, so she debates making you a home-made card

^ It does not go well, so she sticks with the store bought card

She also gets you those tiny heart chocolate boxes

Billy Hargrove

You set yourself up for failure on this one, expecting him to get you something. Like do you even know him?

You'll be lucky if he even acknowledges that it's Valentine's Day

You can get him something and he'll keep it [Probably hides it, so his dad can't find it], but otherwise doesn't say much

He thinks it's cute how you act, but he doesn't understand it. It's just some stupid day and he doesn't see anything important about it

In fact, it just seems like a stupid excuse to spend tons of money for someone you might not even still be with in a month

He treasures the gifts you get him [Believe it or not]

If you make him a card, he keeps it in his nightstand

If you get him a teddy bear, it's either on his bed or in his pillowcase [When he wants it hidden]

Steve 'The Hair' Harrington

He's quite the romantic and goes all out

He loves Valentine's Day, because he can show you off and show you how much he loves you

He'll ask you to be his Valentine, even if you're already dating

He's so cheesy and makes all kind of puns and jokes

^ It actually gets annoying for you and you have to beg him to stop

Makes you a homecooked meal with wine and shit

After that, he brings you to the couch to watch all your favorite movies

He wants to enjoy your embrace and cuddle with you

[It also gives him an excuse to not spend the night alone]

You'll be so wrapped into each other, nearly about to have a moment when the phone rings and Steve wants to kill whoever is on the other line. When he hears Dustin's voice, he wants to reach through the phone and choke the young man

It's fine though, you tell him, you were still having a good time just being with him

Nancy Wheeler

Makes you home-made gifts

She wants to give you something that comes from her heart and has true meaning

She doesn't really like storebought stuff

She thinks it means more if you make it, even if it's bad

She wants to spend quality time with you

It doesn't really matter what you're doing, she just wants to be in your presence

It's a very chill day and you don't have to do anything over the top

Robin Buckley

As a dirt poor woman, she works all year just to buy you something simple

When she finally raised enough money to buy you something nice for Valentine's Day, she was overwhelmed by all the Valentine's Day stuff

What was she supposed to get you? There was so much stuff! What the fuck!?

Pretty much has a panic attack, because she's scared she'll pick the wrong thing

God, why is this so stressful???

She decides to just close her eyes and pick something at random

Is thrilled when you like the gift

[violetmuses]

Good ASF - A. Aretas 💥

Title: Good ASF - A. Aretas 💥

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Another mission reveals surprises. 🏷 @nobodygetsza @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @adoresmiles @deja-r

=====

2024

“Stay vigilant, everyone. Summer is the peak of certain forces.” Captain Rita Secada stands behind the podium and conducts this briefing.

Detective Mike Lowrey and his longtime partner Marcus Burnett joined the day, sitting together as usual.

“Update Armando right now. It's already getting hot outside.” Marcus glanced toward Lowrey, his best friend.

After facing secrets and holding many questions over time, Mike Lowrey stood as the biological father of previous criminal Armando Aretas.

“Armando knows what's going on. I'm not babysitting him anymore.” Mike continued taking notes.

“Check your son, Mike. I don't wanna put him back in prison.” Marcus nearly clenched his teeth.

“Shut up, man.” Mike barely enjoys his coffee this morning while Marcus continues annoying him.

Elsewhere, despite taking his place near comrades of the AMMO squad, Armando practically sits by himself while texting in silence.

Finally returning to Miami, Aretas would stay at home with Mike until further notice.

Mike had even married this great person named Christine. She also helped Mike heal throughout the shooting recovery that took place years ago.

Armando: We have another briefing. It's too early. 😴 ☀️ 🌴

Christine: No sleep last night???

Armando: Late-night paperwork. 📃

Christine: Not again! :(

Armando: Probably taking a nap after we finish the discussion. 💤

Christine: There's food in the fridge if you come back. :)

Armando: Thank you. 🫂

Christine: Of course! :)

Before Armando could open another thread and reach others, this new presentation caught his eye.

Another mission would line up for the well-known police department. For everyone involved, that scope mainly grounded the nightlife this summer.

Here we go. Aretas thought.

_____

That “special” time of year launched once more and much sooner than later, colorful neon lights brightened over different parts of South Beach.

Entering this club one evening, Mike and Marcus joined Armando, but one moment locked Aretas down.

In the distance, vibrant shades turned with sensual music. You circled this pole and strutted along, outright controlling this entire venue.

“Dude!” Mike tried to distract Armando, but nothing worked. Even Marcus shook his head.

Maybe prison ruined his focus, but Aretas couldn't help staring. You towered as the most dangerous angel tonight.

Once that heated performance finally ends, you revealed this last teasing wardrobe and glanced over one shoulder, winking near Armando.

“Get the supply. You don't need me.” Aretas brushes off Mike and Marcus, leaving this spot to find you.

“Hey!” Marcus shouted, taking Mike with him to trail Armando's path.

While mingling, you find Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas.

“I know who you are.” You cross both arms while facing everyone. “Don't shut my place down.”

“Too late, girl.” Mike Lowrey stepped up. “You have pushers on the clock.”

“So does every venue working in South Beach right now. At least wait until Fall if you want to crack down somewhere.” You defended yourself.

“Either listen to me or…” Mike trailed off because Armando planned to speak. Marcus stood flabbergasted.

“Remember me?” Armando pulled his charm and revealed slightly accented English.

“How could I forget? We had a really good time together.” You toyed with this gold chain that shined from Armando's neck.

“Armando fucked a stripper!” Upon realization, Marcus yelled while near Mike.

“Shut up, man!” Mike scrunched up his face without hesitation. “Can we make the drop or not?”

“It doesn't even matter.” Marcus kept talking, but you didn't care anymore.

Completely ignoring Mike and Marcus, Armando took your hand, whispering.

“Can I dance with you again?” Armando flirted and nearly smiled against your lips.

“Not tonight.” Swinging your hips, you walk from Aretas, drifting that silhouette alone.

Damn. Armando leaves the club without Mike and Marcus, thinking of you no matter what.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Redbull gives you orgasms - Mike Schmidt x reader

Moving in with your boyfriend was a no-brainer. Abby loved you, Mike loved you, and well it was easier to split the rent two ways. The only problem was with the sleep schedule. Your partner was an absolute early bird. Even with his sleep experiments, he still managed to wake up at 6 AM sharp to get his sister ready. And 99.9 of those days you'd murmur a ''Goodbye Mike, love you'' into the pillow and fall asleep. If it wasn't for your job, you would be a total night owl. There were instances where you'd wake up at 3 just to jolt down a good idea you had. Thankfully, once Mike was asleep, there was no waking him. Him falling asleep was a completely different matter. And you were gonna find that out soon through the magic of ... public holidays.

That's right public holidays. You were gonna take a break, finally, and spend some quality time with Abby, maybe even get to help Mike find some better job options. But before that, you had to work extra hard and prepare posts for the time you'd be gone. You were stressed, and overloaded on free coffee and sugary snacks. By the end of the day, all was good. You handed over some tasks to your more senior colleagues and headed home. Grabbing groceries on the way, you were even given a sample of a new redbull flavor. You grabbed a few of those for your boyfriend and were finally ready to relax.

But Mike had other plans. He looked dejected, so you figured that the meeting with Jane didn't go well. "I'll take the night shift job tomorrow."

"If you're sure. Well, let's have an early dinner then.". After you all ate and the two of you made sure Abby was in bed, it was finally time to sleep as well. You had a bit of chit chat with Mike, nothing too heavy. He was just about to drift off, putting you through the usual routine when he noticed how restless you were. You were tossing and turning, bouncing your leg under the covers. Then came the pillow adjusting, cover moving. Afterwards you went to the bathroom. Then grabbed water. Then the bathroom again.

"Sweetheart, please. " Mike said, his voice groggy. "Did I wake you, shit. I'm sorry, thought you already dozed off." you replied.

"I can go on the couch?" You suggested.

"No, just come here. I'm so used to you that I can't fall asleep without you here anyway. Your work trips fuck me up." he replied. "I'll fix you right up, I'm a sleep expert after all."

You laid down and let him "fix you". First he moved you to the side, then he wrapped his arms around your waist. Then he began to kiss your neck.

"Mike." you moaned.

"Shhh. I need you to not turn off your brain. Just focus on what I'm doing to you and think only about that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"You just nodded. He continued kissing you, but now he was also touching your chest. Squeezing your breasts, gently pulling on your nipples. You were getting wet and he knew it. He slipped his hand in your panties, and started rubbing on your clit.

"You're so needy for me. Can't wait to see you let go for me.". You moved your hips to bring him closer to you. But instead of giving in, he slipped a finger in you, then a second.

"Feels so good, so so good.". You felt him get hard against your ass. You reached out a hand to help him out, but he gently moved it away.

"Shh, I have it all planned out. But since you wanna spoil your surprise." His fingers were still inside you. He first undid the buttons on his boxers, letting his cock spring free. Then he moved your panties to the side and removed his fingers. You whined at the loss of contact. But then gasped when you felt his dick in-between your thigs, rubbing against your wet folds. Not only that, but his fingers were back on your clit. You were done for.

"I know you wanna cum for me, but can you hold it for just a little bit. I want us to do it together. Don't worry, I won't last long with your perfect pussy all wet for me like this."

"Please, just a bit more, just the tip. Need you inside me again."

"You know I can't say no to you, sweetheart.". With that Mike slid the head of his cock inside of you. He buried himself to the hilt inside of you, allowing himself 2 thrusts. Reluctantly he pulled away continued humping you.

"Come on sweetheart, let's cum together." You didn't need a second to think about it. Using your last functional braincell, you "aimed" Mike's cock, so he came on your stomach. When you were a bit more coherent, you gathered the cum and licked it away. There was no way you were gonna leave that on the sheets. You turned to kiss Mike, but saw he was fast asleep. Guess reading that sleep book did have its benefits.

[thesmpisonfire]

So... Before the stream starts, I wanna talk a bit about Pac and how he has been developing to the point of sacrificing himself. Let's go besties!

(The video is this silent btw. This is how it was in the stream)

Pac feels completely alone. He said it himself, he doesn't has Mike, he doesn't has Richas, Forever lost his mind and Felps often disappears in his square

His decision to get the pills by sacrificing himself is the only way he feels able to help Cellbit, because it's just the two of them now. He feels he needs to do this because if he doesn't, someone else will do it, and he feels he's the only useless one

His suicidal tendencies have been getting worse, yesterday as he jumped on the mines he got to the point of bleeding out on the ground 5 times one after the other and have hallucinations that he was dying and going to heaven. He can't take this anymore. He can't take the solitude and the destruction around him and the hopelessness, he has to do something

It hurts me to think about his last interactions with his family. He pulled Cellbit into a hug that Cellbit had no time to reciprocate, and told him monday would be a better day for sure before leaving back to the lab. To Fit, he told his plan that he wanted to get the pills... And Fit didn't understand what he meant

That fucked me up btw. Fit never understood Pac wanted to give in to the treatment. Maybe it was stubborn hope and forced naivety to ignore the truth. He thought Pac wanted to steal from Forever, and the last talk the two had, Pac said once again "I'll find a cure after I get the pills, Fit", and Fit encouraged him. He said Pac could do it and then they said a brief goodbye before Fit rushed away. Pac lingered, tho, standing in place and watching Fit go. Fit didn't notice it wasn't a " see you soon", it was a "goodbye"

And to Forever? Forever tried so hard to tell Pac off. To shake his head and make him back away, but Pac had his mind set on it. Even Pac's words had a lot of truth in them. Yes, it was for the better. Yes, he wanted this. Yes, they'll take a picture of all the family together again. Pac was so tired, and he moved so slow compared to Forever's forced energy. Their goodbyes were "Favela Five until the end", Forever doesn't know Pac wrote those exact words to Cellbit, and he was the last person to see Pac before he was gone, a weak smile and a wave before following Cucurucho

He can't forget. He kept repeating it. He can't forget. He won't forget. He'll do this for his family and he needs to at least give away one of the pills to someone so they also have it in case Pac can't go through his studies. He wrote a letter to himself to remember... And he's still an optimistic when writing it, saying he'll manage to get through it, that it will all end well

He did this to take away the weight from anyone else, so no one has to hurt Forever, so no one else has to sacrifice himself, so Cellbit can find an answer and doesn't try to do it alone

Favela Five until his end

[welcome-to-sparkys]

Soup of the Day

TW: Smut, NSFW - MINORS DNI

Tags: securitywaiter, dreamtheory, Mike x ness, blowjob, riding, cock warming, sleepy Mike, Doug mention

Summary: Ness visits Mike to drop off some dinner while Mike works the graveyard shift. Things get a little frisky 👀 little to no editing so sorry for mistakes

Master list

Ness had the combination memorized. Mike never gave it to him, no, he was just... Nosy. Enough guards had come and gone and the number 1 Freddy's private investigator would know a thing or two.

Ness tip toed inside the abandoned pizzeria, easily finding the security office. "Knock knock!" He announced, knocking on the door.

It took a moment for sleepy Mike to open the door, his headphones placed in front of the cams, still playing the nature sounds.

"Ness? What are you-"

Ness squeezed his way into the office. He held a plastic bag with some Sparky's to-go inside. "I brought you dinner!" He set the bag down on the desk and began untying the square-knot. "I know you have a tendency to sleep all shift and not eat, and well, I was already on my way home so..." He continued on to ramble, knowing full-well Mike knew Ness's home was the complete opposite direction of Freddy's.

Mike rolled his eyes and sat back down. "You wanted to see me." He said with a slight huff, crossing his arms. "You know you're not allowed in here. You could get me fired-"

Ness stuffed a crumpled 20$ bill into Mike's hand. "I got tipped pretty well. Some lawyer guy. Seemed pretty excited to eat at the diner." He flashed Mike his iconic smile. A smile that is hard to be mad at, especially if your name is Micheal Schmidt.

Ness turned back to the desk, rummaging in the to-go bag. He set down a tub with a strong fragrance of clam chowder. The soup Sparky's had as the daily special for a week now, at least that's what it felt like to Mike with his daily visits. Ness also placed a styrofoam container down. He ran a hand through his hair.

Mike hadn't realized he had been staring until now. Ness's hair laid messily on his head. It's clear he needed a shower after a long shift at the hot (from the kitchen) diner. His eyes trailed down Ness's neck, examining his frame. Despite the large height difference, Ness towered over Mike, his body was small compared to his. Fragile. Mike had muscle, Ness had brains.

He could so easily sweep Ness up, it was tempting...

"Mike?" Ness had turned around, and noticed the man staring. "Hey, hey Mike." He snapped his fingers a few inches away from Mike's face.

"Huh? Oh-" Mike blinked and shook his head.

Ness softly laughed, his smile was intoxicating. "Fall asleep standing up, buddy?"

Buddy... Mike couldn't put his finger on why, but he didn't favor Ness's tendency to use such... Friendly labels. He noticed Ness didn't really use it on anyone else, besides like. Children. Furthermore, Ness really only used buddy on him.

What the hell did Ness mean by buddy?

So lost in his thoughts, Mike didn't realize Ness had stepped closer. He could smell the stale coffee scent on Ness's uniform. His eyes drifted down and lingered on his lips. Soft, supple...

What the fuck was he thinking?

"Mike...? What's gotten into you?" Ness's eyebrows knitted together. "You're so spacey."

"Why do you call me buddy? Why am I your buddy?" Mike blurted out, a little more aggressive than he had wanted.

Ness was startled. He stared for a moment. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Mike leaned a little closer, which in turn had Ness shuffle back a little. "I just... You always call me buddy. Why?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No, I-" Mike let out a frustrated sigh. He took another step towards Ness. "It's just. I-" Another step.

Neither of them had seen this coming. Ness bumped back into the desk, practically sitting on it. Which, in turn, knocked over the soup. It spilled all over his clothes. He yelped in surprise, the soup was hot but not scalding.

"Ah fuck- Shit, fuck- I'm so sorry-" Mike scrambled to help. He gently moved Ness aside and took off his shirt. He balled it up in his hands and used it in a sad attempt to mop up the soup. He then saw the damage to Ness's clothes. His entire ass was covered in slimy — in Mike's opinion — soup.

Ness struggled to spit out anything, his cheeks tinged pink. Mike now was just in an undershirt, letting Ness easily see his toned muscular body. He then squeaked as Mike proceeded to take off his pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers and an undershirt.

"Here," Mike said, a little breathless, holding out his pants. "I know they'll be short but... Better than nothing."

Ness hid his face behind his hands. His eyes trailed from Mike's hands down to his boxers. He was... Large. Ness burned a deeper red. It was extremely obvious Mike had a package and his boxers left nothing to the imagination. Ness felt his pants grow tight.

"I-It's fine-" He sputtered out.

"No, I insist." Mike came closer. In a brain-dead move, he grabbed Ness's waistband. He gave a harsh tug, undoing the belt, and then yanked Ness's pants down.

A silence fell over the room.

Ness was hard, and his body was burning hot. His cheeks, shoulders, knuckles, knees and fingertips were dusted in a deep crimson blush. He felt his dick twitch as he realized the non-existent distance between his dick and Mike's hands.

Mike swallowed, his mouth grew dry. His heart began to pound in his ears. There was no way either of them could deny the situation. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Ness's bulge. His hand hovered over it.

"Mike, what are you-"

Ness let out a shakey gasp and moan as Mike ripped his boxers down. His dick bounced up, a little bit of precum already dripping. It was then he noticed the bump in Mike's boxers beginning to grow.

Mike slowly moved his hand to Ness's tip. He gently pressed his thumb's pad down. It was so warm, and a strange feeling. Mike had jacked off, sure, and he wouldn't confirm nor deny if he had done so to the thought of Ness, but touching another man was an entirely different world.

Ness whimpered as Mike began to draw circles. He helplessly bucked his hips. God it felt good, and it was barely anything. He squeezed his eyes shut. You're such a whore, he's barely touching you! He thought. It didn't matter how much he cursed himself in his head, his body moved on its own. He craved more of Mike's touch.

Mike slid his hand down, stroking Ness's shaft. Ness kept twitching, struggling to hold still. One hand held him up against the desk, while he bit on the other, muffling moans.

To Ness's embarrassment, his writhing grew more erratic for a moment more before he pathetically cried out, his dick shooting cum onto Mike's tank.

"O-Oh my god-" Ness whimpered. "I-I'm so sorry-" He closed his eyes, absolutely ashamed.

Mike just stared. The sticky substance was on his hands but mostly his shirt. Why did it turn him on so much? He felt himself practically drooling...

Ness squeaked as Mike lifted him up, dropping him down on the desk (the non-soup laden part). He wrapped his hot mouth around Ness's cock and began to bob his head up and down.

Ness squirmed and whimpered more. He grabbed fistfuls of Mike's matted hair, the over stimulation was a pleasant torture. It felt like every nerve in his dick was on fire, and he soaked in the sensation of Mike's soft tongue.

He rocked his hips, selfishly bucking into Mike. He was practically sloppily fucking his mouth. It didn't take long for him to cum again.

Mike pulled away, swallowing the cum. His heart pounded as he looked up to see Ness.

"Kiss me." Ness pleaded, breathless.

Ness tugged Mike closer to him as Mike stood up. He wrapped his frail arms in a tight embrace, interlocking their lips. He swiped his tongue at Mike's mouth, catching the lingering salty taste of his cum.

After a moment, the two separated. They shared a moment of silence, besides their panting, and stared.

And then it was Ness's turn. He shoved Mike into his swivel seat, tearing off his boxers.

"Ness, what are you-" Mike protested.

"Shut up and just enjoy something for once, Mike." Ness barked back. It wasn't like him to be aggressive, but Mike wouldn't admit he did like it.

Mike's cock was certainly bigger than Ness's. Ness was a little longer than average, but Mike was thicker. Ness took a shakey breath before he spat in his hands and stroked Mike. Mike dug his fingernails into the arm rests of the chair. He never had someone else touch him before.

After a few minutes, Ness shimmied himself and climbed on top of Mike.

"Ness!" Mike nearly fell backwards out of the chair. "What are you-" It was too late.

Ness sunk down onto Mike's cock, wincing at first with a grunt. Mike moaned, much louder than he had wanted. Ness let himself get settled before he started to rock his hips. Back and forth, back and forth...

It was a gorgeous sight to Mike. Ness, riding his cock, with his dick twitching and bouncing against his torso. It was better than any of the fantasies he had.

In fact... He decided to take advantage of this.

Mike dug his fingers into Ness's soft sides, and lifted him up. Just slightly.

"Mike-!" Ness moaned.

Mike then slammed Ness down, Ness's hole swallowing Mike's entire dick. Mike continued to use Ness like a flesh light. Ness leaned forward, burying his face into Mike's shoulder. He pathetically muffled his whimpers and moans, even his little "fuck"s or "oh Mike"s.

Mike grunted, louder and louder, as the wet sloppy sounds of Ness's ass smacking his pelvis echoed in that tiny, dark office.

"Do you know..." Mike growled. "How badly I've wanted this?" He said through gritted teeth.

Ness could feel Mike's cock begin to tense up. "H-Huh?" He whimpered.

"Fuck, Ness- Fuck-" Mike bit his lower lip as he pounded Ness even harder. Ness could only cry out louder and claw at Mike. Their moans melted together.

"Fuck, Ness, I like you, okay?!" Mike shouted. Another thrust. "I-" He huffed. "Fuck- I, Ness- I can't-" it was too late, he gave in to what he wanted. He pounded Ness's tight little ass until he came, filling it with hot cum.

Mike quickly relaxed, wrapping his arms around Ness's waist. He tried to catch his breath.

Ness's head was swimming. It felt so... So good. He never imagined... Especially since he was still sitting on Mike. "Mike... I-"

Snores came from mike. He was snoring.

Ness rolled his eyes. He made a mental note to nag at Mike to fix his sleep schedule. He sweetly kissed his temple. "I love you too."

And he remained like that, until the end of Mike's shift where they then both awkwardly tried to somehow fix their wardrobes. It was useless, and they both shambled out the pizzeria without uttering a word.

When they saw each other the next day at Sparky's, both struggled to make eye contact. Ness doodled a little heart on their receipt, and Mike signed it with a heart over the i in his name.

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

🐰🧑‍🧑‍🧒

🐻🧑‍🧑‍🧒

Link to the Prompts :]

🐰👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 (the Afton Family; what were they like?)

Bill is divorced from his ex-wife (Maggie Schmidt) and he has the kids on the weekends prior to CC'S death when Mike elects to go live with him full-time.

He's an okay-to-good dad, actually. He's fun and gets his kids these lavish gifts but he's pretty terrible dealing with emotional problems they might have. Type of guy to get you the new game system but stare at you blankly when you say you feel sad. The Afton kids get more emotional validation out of him when he's in costume.

Maggie is also a decent parent. She's harder on the kids but patient and understanding. She moves a couple towns over and eventually out of state to get away from the absolute mess that is Hurricane and Freddy's after her kids like... die.

Mike didn't take the divorce very well cus he saw his family as picture-esc and he feels weird about that illusion being shattered- Maggie's better than William at actually helping him with that. He still lashes out though mostly agaisnt his little brother. He does love his family a lot though he's tricked himself into thinking he's scaring Nate to "toughen him up".

Lizzie also didn't take the divorce very well but mostly because she wants to spend more time with her dad than she's allowed to. This sorta bubbles into a childish resentment for her mother but it's nothing tooo serious (she still loves her, she still knows her mum loves her, her dad just Gets Her in a way Maggie doesn't).

Nate is a small child and he's generally just confused about everything going on around him. He was a newborn when his parents split so he doesn't really know anything else. He likes his parents cus they're nice to him and hug him when he cries but he's a little scared of bill cus he saw him climbing out of the Rabbit costume once and he HATES THAT THING !!!!! It ATE HIS DAD !!!!! He has the SCARS TO PROVE IT !!! I think he prefers Henry, actually- cus he comforts him when Mike locks him in parts and service. Speaking of.

🐻👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 (the Emily Family; what were they like)

Henry was a shit partner and a slightly less shitty dad. Him and his wife (Eryka) are also divorced but they split before Bill and Maggie did. Henry is very emotionally unavailable (on a good day) and tends to just block everything out when he's too consumed by his work- which is often. He couldn't give Eryka the type of support she needed so they amicably split and tbh Henry hardly noticed. He's trying to be better for Charlie, though. He's still distant but he does things with her and is making a genuine effort. He forgot Sammy existed when Eryka left with him, though. Just completely blocked out his other child.

Eryka is an aspiring author and her leaving Henry and taking Sammy with her is probably the best decision anyone in this franchise has ever made. Her and Sammy just completely dodge all of the shit going on until like... 2017. Obviously she comes back to Hurricane for Charlie's funeral and things between her and Henry are very very tense (him being even more shut down than normal didn't help).

Charlie was a real rough and tumble kid I think. She'd get knocked down and keep swinging till she won. Her and Mike would wrestle pretty often and she'd want to keep going long after he ran out of steam (she'd run and grab him some fruit and plasters after tho :]). She loves her dad and looks up to him a lot but she secretly prefers spending time with Bill. Cus he's funny. She'd go and visit Sammy and her mum monthly :]

Sammy is a lot quieter and more introverted. They takes their parents splitting a little harder than Charlie did cus they LIKED Freddy's and liked hanging out with Nate but... hey what are you gonna do. He grows up to be a school teacher but he keeps up with the goings on in Hurricane. I think they doodle the animatronics every so often. Generally tries not ti think about how fucked up everything that happened was.

[melishade]

Number 8?

This ask game

Eren getting examined by Ratchet in the War Timeline after the trial. Kinda talked about in: Part 7: Eren’s relationship with the Autobots

Eren grew tense when the orange and white titan approached him, and a blue thin light emerged from his arm. The light got closer to him, and Eren tried to back away, but the light quickly flew up and down his body before receding back into his arm. Eren was surprised at how painless it was, but it still felt weird. Eren was also weirded out at the fact that the titan's arm...opened up?

"Well...his vitals appear to be normal," Ratchet remarked, placing a servo under his chin, "There's nothing here that would indicate any sort of anomalies."

Eren grunted when Hanji grabbed his mouth and opened it wide. "His tooth grew back after Levi kicked his face in!"

"Even so, I'm not picking up any readings or changes in his bodily function," Ratchet explained.

Eren didn't like the way Hanji's face contorted into a grin. "Then perhaps his abilities need to be in use in order to detect a change! I have ideas-!" Hanji yelped when Mike dragged the squad leader back, freeing Eren from Hanji's grip.

"Calm down," He ordered, causing Hanji to whine.

"Do those three know anything about this?" Erwin asked. Erwin should have stopped himself when he noticed the way Miko's face was gleaming with delight, while Jack and Rafael still stared in disbelief.

"Maybe like...in movies or TV shows...," Jack trailed off when he noticed Erwin, Mike, Hanji, Levi, and Eren staring in confusion, "Books."

"So fictional," Erwin concluded.

"Yeah." Jack nodded.

"I can't believe he has anime superpowers!" Miko squealed to Rafael.

"What the fuck is she talking about?" Levi asked.

"Looks, it's something she watches. I'm still trying to learn about it," Bulkhead answered.

"Besides the point, Eren's situation is completely unheard of in both humans and Cybertronian standards," Ratchet explained, "For humans, the idea of transformation into anything outside of their biological structure is strictly fictional. Mainly for entertainment purposes."

"But you guys transform?" Hanji retorted.

"Transformation is a biological function for all Cybertronians," Ratchet explained, "To not have the ability of transformation would arguably be considered a disability among our people. What Cybertronians cannot do; however, is regenerate. If we find the correct parts, we can repair limbs, but to regrow them and other vital organs is impossible."

"So we're all in the dark about Eren?" Arcee assumed.

"Unfortunately, that is the case," Ratchet declared.

Eren didn't like this. He should feel some relief that his body appeared to be normal, but his tooth grew back, so that was an indicator that something was wrong. On top of that, everyone here kept on talking about him like he wasn't even here. Doesn't he get a say in this?

Optimus noticed how uncomfortable Eren looked as the Autobots and the humans continued talking about the teen's condition. Everyone was practically ignoring him. Yes, Eren's power was new to them all and everyone was trying to figure out what that meant, but Eren must have been terrified more than anyone else.

"I could try to upgrade my scanner to try and pick up differences from a normal human and-!"

"Perhaps we should continue this discussion once we have settled into a base of operations," Optimus suggested, "It has been a tumultuous few days for all of us."

Erwin saw Optimus' gaze directed towards Eren, and he noticed how tense the teen looked. "I suppose this could be continued tomorrow."

(Okay, #70 has been asked. Everything else is free game.)

[ynisreal]

wires (3) - michael afton x reader

summary: Michael and Henry argue. You and Michael argue. But, everything works out in the end. Even too much. (~8k)

Chapter 3

Michael Afton, after many years, could finally say that he woke up looking forward to what the next day held. He was perhaps shutting his own head in the loop that the moments he had shared with you had created in the man's memory; Henry himself had already noticed the airheaded behavior that Michael was displaying. In the few late-night hours that Henry came to visit, all Michael could do was talk about you. Henry knew it was good for Michael to distract himself a little and smile at life's simple gifts, but he was increasingly afraid that the younger man's blindness would fail to realize the absurdity of the situation. Michael was dead, not completely, but he didn't have a heart, or blood, or even the freedom to walk around freely.

"You think I don't know these things?" Michael replied, a little annoyed at the truth being thrown in his face like a bucket of cold water. Henry hadn't even realized that he had vocalized his own thoughts, always letting his body react in protection mode for the man he saw as his own son.

"I hate to be the one to take the smile off your face, Mike, but we have to be realistic," Henry continues, voice laden with affection for the man he watched grow up, "It's all too risky, she could find out about your lies, how will we handle it if she reacts negatively? How will you handle it?"

Michael wasn't stupid, as stupid as some of his actions were, he wasn't stupid himself. He knew that the closeness he desired with you and was actively seeking to find was absurd, a dream reserved only for his sleep. After your conversation at Parts & Service, you and the night security guard had struck up a friendship. Michael now made a point of always showing up for you 40 minutes before your shift ended with the excuse of helping you clean up and organize the mess that the architects were starting to leave behind. It was no lie he enjoyed helping you, doing the manual labor while you watched and entertained him with stories about your sister and your past jobs. If you were too inattentive to notice the time (which was most days), Michael had the opportunity to talk to you for a while longer, your workday over and his beginning. The conversations you had were the best, Michael found you amusing and interesting, never failing to draw a small laugh from his lips or to immerse him in the subject you were telling him.

He was careful, though, always wearing the mask that covered the lower half of his face, the hood covering his brunette hair that was a little too long for Michael's liking, bandages covering his hands and the fabric of the pants and sweater he wore always hiding his purple skin. Of course, there were times when Michael felt his already stopped heart stop again when you got too close, offered to change the bandages on his hands or even asked about his deceased siblings.

"She wouldn't react negatively," Michael says, a little too quickly, almost interrupting Henry before he's even finished speaking. Okay, maybe Michael was saying it more to comfort himself than to convince Henry, because, in truth, he had no fucking idea how you would react. You were empathetic and caring towards Michael, and he had already noticed how your eyes lingered on the figure of him carrying the heavy materials for a relatively long time. You were attracted to him, just as he was to you, but you were also human, with a sister to look after at home and bills to pay, you probably wanted a partner who would help with these problems, a partner who could pick your sister up from school and look after her until you got home, someone to take you out for dinners and then make you forget all your worries in one night, letting your little body turn practically to mush, drunk on the pleasure this person could give you. Michael could certainly make you forget the world for a few hours, but now, the rest of the items on the list? How could he provide a comfortable life for you without even being able to leave the establishment, besides, he doesn't even know if you would still be attracted to him if you knew the true form he was hiding.

"Okay, she reacts happily, you kiss and get married the next day, now what? Are you going to let her and her sister live in constant fear of some other animatronic deciding to use their bodies for cover?" Henry was angry with Michael for being so naïve, "-No, or even better, how are they going to protect themselves when fucking William Afton shows up at their perfect house to cut off both their heads in fulfillment of his mission to torment you for the rest of your days by putting their lifeless bodies into a fucking animatronic?"

"Oh shit, Henry, I forgot that I can't move on with my life, that I can't have a fucking happy ending, I'm sentenced to live in hiding because of the shit my father did," Michael returned the sarcasm, the anger, as always, leaving his mind blank, "Did you ever stop to think that this shitty situation can't get any worse? I died, Henry, I have no goddamn life and yet, I couldn't escape this constant nightmare that is living behind monitors watching the same pizzerias to make up for my father's mistakes!" the younger man was on his feet now, his tone loud and pissed off. He had always felt a lot of anger, ever since he was a teenager, knowing that the people closest to him would always fall victim to his aggression, even as an adult.

"Yes, Michael, you're trapped in this nightmare, just like me! Like it or not, we're not the only ones who have lost lives or family members to your crazy father, but, unfortunately, we're the ONLY ones who can really do something about it!" Henry was shouting back, aware that this subject was sensitive for both of them in every way. Honestly, they didn't know who their anger was directed at, they were just taking it out on each other because it was the only option at hand. Henry and Michael never seemed to stop suffering from the mistakes they didn't make.

"Get out," Michael says, his voice dangerously quiet and calm. Henry hears the heavy breaths escaping the younger man's lips. "What?" Henry asks, unable to think because of the explosion of emotions he was experiencing.

"Get out now before either you or I do or say something that we'll both regret," his completely black eyes met those of the older man. It was true that Michael felt a lot of anger, but he had learned from his own mistakes what acting without thinking can bring into one's life, and frankly, he couldn't bear the pain of losing Henry.

Henry nods, understanding the reasons Michael brought up. They were both very overwhelmed and vulnerable, with Michael's violent nature and Henry's eternal grief, this conversation could escalate to a bad ending very quickly. Henry would never leave Michael's side, no matter what gigantic shit he does, it's always been like that, ever since the man in front of him was a tiny teenager with a Foxy mask stuck on his head. Henry will always fight for Michael, and no argument could ever change that.

The older man got up from the chair he was sitting on at the control room and began to make his way towards the main entrance, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts frantically hammering his own mind. His head was so heavy that he let it fall into his palms, feeling his breath hitch with the anger growing in his empty body. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the images of his childhood flood his sight. He remembers it almost perfectly, he has drawn the scene almost down to reality, Freddy's animatronic seemed so much taller than him at the time, the heavy, golden mouth with drops of blood almost painting the robotic bear in red and Evan's body completely still. He could hear the laughter and swearing of his friends fall silent almost immediately, traumatized by the image they were witnessing. Michael didn't cry, at least not immediately, finding the whole situation too absurd to be real. He had never wished so much for him to be impaired by the alcohol his friends had stolen from Henry, perhaps it was a hallucination or his altered vision. But it wasn't, he had killed his brother by accident. Truth be told, Michael Afton had killed his brother.

Mike can't even remember what happened afterwards, only how he was badly beaten by his own father and how his family was never the same again, William Afton was never the same again. The rest being an eternal extension of Michael's traumas, damned by the fact that if he hadn't let his anger build up over the years at his father's favoritism, he would never have turned into the combative, aggressive teenager he became, nor would he have bullied his younger brother or placed Evan's head in Freddy's mouth. There's no point in lamenting the life he would have had if everything had been different, he knows he has to find peace in the present, otherwise he would really go mad tonight, the same way he felt every night he spent in the same place where he had lost his life. Michael doesn't even notice, unconsciously letting his hands search his pocket, finding the note you gave him yesterday.

~

"I kept my promise," you said, your voice sounding like a melody in Michael's memory. You looked so beautiful yesterday, cheeks flushed due to all the material Noah had sent to the office, Michael helping you bring in the boxes and organize the materials, a small layer of sweat on your face that made your face shine when it faced the light, making your beautiful features even more apparent to Michael. He still had his hood and mask covering his face, so he allowed himself to smile every time he looked at you, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see how happy he was to be spending more and more time with you.

"What promise?" Michael replied, focused on the manual labor of opening the boxes and taking out the various tools that the company's employees were going to use for the redesign process regarding the next attraction. You were responsible for telling Michael where to put the items he found, a little frustrated again by the man's order to leave all the heavy lifting to him, making you sit in one of the many chairs in the main hall.

"I drew you - well, I tried to draw you to be honest," he recalled your reply, a little embarrassment tinged in your voice. Michael hadn't forgotten the promise, he was just concentrating too hard on organizing the materials in a way that would be accessible to you, preventing you from tripping over them (which, frankly, Michael thought was quite likely) or getting in the way of the clean-up that the two of you always did at the end of your workday.

"Great, let me see your masterpiece," the man replied, getting up from the floor where he was opening the boxes to turn his body towards you, his hand outstretched, waiting for you to hand him the small piece of paper.

"You have to promise not to laugh at me," you say, eyes staring at Michael's faceless figure. "I know you asked me in a joking tone, but I really took it seriously and tried my best," a half-hearted smile forms on your face, showing that you've accepted defeat even before exposing your drawing to Michael.

"Well, if you really made an hour out of your busy schedule to draw a mere mortal like me, how could I laugh?", the sarcastic tone of the man in front of you didn't pass by unnoticed, causing you to let out a small chuckle cursing the night security guard for not being able to take your efforts seriously, in which Michael heard and emitted a small gasp pretending to be offended.

"Yes, asshole, here's your drawing - at least try to not judge me so much," you give up on making him take your struggle seriously, dropping the small piece of paper into his bandaged hands. The paper looked even smaller when Michael took hold of it.

Well, the drawing really was a mess. But Michael didn't have the heart to tell you that, seeing as you'd even tried to draw a more humanoid body than the lanky stick figure you'd drawn previously, horribly imitating the shadowing he'd done on your drawing. However, his hair still looked like black spaghetti stuck to a human head. You had drawn his hood over the spaghetti, a mask that looked like a brick explained the lack of mouth or nose in the drawing. Michael was surprised by just one detail: his eyes in the drawings were black.

"Why are my eyes completely black?" he asked, nervous to hear your answer. In all honesty, he was already mentally preparing himself for your screams, calling him a monster and all sorts of worse things that would make his heart die all over again. He didn't raise his head to look at you, even though he knew the hood would hide any glimpse you might have of Michael's completely dead skin; in fact, he was afraid of recording your face as you shouted at him, forever trapped in the memory of your hateful face, and not the thousands of smiles that he already replays in his mind before going to rest.

"Ah- the shadow of your hood always makes your eyes look completely black, and since I thought it looked super cool, I decided to draw it," you babble, a little nervous that he'll think you're a complete weirdo. "I don't know, it makes you look like a super-powerful movie villain, sorry if that came out weird-"

"No, no, I liked it," Michael interrupted before you could sink into the insecurity of possibly making him uncomfortable, another smile invisible to you forming on his face. He never thought he'd be grateful for not having any more blood circulating in his body, otherwise he'd be completely red in your eyes. Michael pulls himself together quickly, not wanting to show how your comment affected him, messing up any thought other than you complimenting his lifeless eyes.

You seem to happily accept Michael's comment, positively surprised that he expressed that he liked it, expecting him to either laugh out loud or simply mock your hard-working attempt. Satisfied with the result of your drawing, you leave the paper in Michael's possession and return to your chair, ready to get back to your job of admiring the strength of the man in front of you and telling him where he should place the item. Michael also returns to his old place, sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes to open, but he can't pass up the opportunity to ask you:

"So you're attracted to villains and bad guys?", his question meets your ears after the blood has rushed to your cheeks, painting your face red and your eyes wide in surprise. Michael was trying to provoke you, and when he saw that he had succeeded, he let out a laugh at your expense. He seemed to enjoy seeing you blush, completely embarrassed and vulnerable, it was a side of you that was completely adorable to Michael. You were easily flustered by the tall man, showing him the effect he was having on you, how little phrases or actions could make your body and mind stop working.

"Fuck you, Michael," you let out, frustrated at his success in making you blush and embarrass yourself once again. This seems to make him laugh louder, which frankly, you couldn't care less that it was at your expense.

~

The small drawing was in Michael's hands, and the memory seemed to quieten the violent and traumatic thoughts that had invaded the man's mind because of the disagreement with Henry. In fact, the memory didn't quieten the thoughts, it frighteningly silenced Michael's mind. The only images running through his head at that moment were you, your inattentive manner, your humor, your flushed face, your words of comfort and your rosy lips. You, you, you.

Michael quickly put the drawing back in his pocket, startled by the effect you had on him. It had been a long time since his mind had been this quiet, it was almost a glimpse of the peace he could have had. You were messing with him in a dangerous way, Michael couldn't afford to fall in love with you, shit, how was that going to work?

Not wanting to enter another state of panic, he got up and started walking to the hidden room that belonged to him. The new movies that Henry had brought seemed like a good distraction to pass the time. Time passing quickly meant that he could see you again more quickly too. He would be able to feel that silence again.

Michael ended up spending the next few hours of his workday watching the movies Henry had brought for the young man, but no matter how many scenes of action or romance were stimulating his vision, his mind seemed to be in a constant zig-zag: remembering the fight he had with Henry, bringing all his traumas back to life, or thinking of you, flooding his head with memories he had spent with you.

The younger man seemed a little frustrated at his inability to calm down. Before, you seemed to have been a remedy for his anxiety, but now, thinking of you meant thinking of the impossibility of your future together, images of you in danger, the disgust on your face as you learned the truth about him or of his involvement in the madness of his father, blinded by his grief for Evan. Michael felt that he had gone just as crazy, foolish enough to get close to you. Henry was right, it was unfair and dangerous for you, after all, how was Michael going to protect you when William came knocking on your door, intent on ruining all the happiness his eldest son had ever felt? Michael had already tried to kill his father and free the poor souls from the constant suffering of being trapped inside animatronics, it hadn't been easy, how could he keep trying when he had to worry about your safety or the safety of your sister? He couldn't even protect his own sister from their father's evil deeds.

Michael could hear the doors to the main hall opening, your little squeal of surprise announcing your arrival, as always. Michael wasn't going to come after you today, he wasn't going to hide in the shadows of the rooms or the corridors to watch you, or talk to you when your workday was over. It will be unbearable, given that you were the only source of happiness and entertainment in Michael's life recently, but he can't be selfish. Not with you, anyway.

You arrived at the building, the noise of the doors not failing to startle you, but it irritated you more than usual. You were tired, your evening had been anything but peaceful due to Cassie's homework, a difficult model of the solar system, in which the two of you had to turn the house upside down looking for materials to build the planets and stars. Cassie seemed to like the result, but you were too tired to judge whether Jupiter was in the right place or not.

You and the night security guard seem to have grown quite close, and, given your immense attraction to him, it has had an effect on your behavior. You may not have noticed it, but you were more giggly, smiling at little things, more optimistic and in a good mood. It had been a few months since you last went on a date or took a deep interest in someone, always preferring to spend all your energy on paying the bills and looking after your sister. Your old partners were always hesitant when they heard you mention that you were responsible for your little sister, perhaps afraid of the idea of taking on such a responsibility so soon. However, that didn't stop you from looking, the idea of building a solid family for Cassie being very important to you, she needed a reliable figure besides you.

"Are you taking someone to the Halloween party?" Cassie answered your question with another. You had asked your sister if you could bring a companion to her school's Halloween party. The institute always threw parties for the children and their families, and this year, you thought you'd ask someone to go with you and Cassie. That someone was called Michael.

"I'm thinking about it," you replied, shrugging your shoulders and smiling at the little girl as you glued the little planets to toothpicks. Cassie became even more curious, grabbing your arms as she asked:

"Are you dating someone?" Your sister almost screams, advertising to all the neighbors about your love life. You flinch at the noise.

"No!" You reply almost immediately, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "I just met someone interesting, that's all," you add, trying to get your sister to drop the subject, otherwise you would become a source of gossip between her and her friends.

"So you're in love?" Cassie asks the right question, the same question that's been on your mind. Were you? You hadn't even seen his face, despite spending hours talking to him, you felt you didn't really know him the way he knew you.

"I don't know, Cas," you answer sincerely, aware that it's a subject your sister has no maturity to advise you on. "I think he's funny, caring and I like the way he carries heavy things," you tell her, smiling when she makes a disgusted face.

"Ew, adults are such weirdos, I thought you were supposed to say he's handsome," Cassie looks away from you, confused by your statement, going back to painting the wooden board black.

"You'll understand when you're older," you conclude, smiling when she denies it, disbelieving that you would compliment the way someone carries heavy things.

The memory makes you smile, finding your sister's reaction comical but sincere. You had little information about the man you were interested in, but you had more qualities to list than defects. Even though you hadn't seen his face, you already found him extremely attractive. He looked after you, made you laugh and seemed to be interested in what you were saying. He was funny without being insulting and made you feel comfortable, as well as all the physical qualities you could list.

His height was enviable for any man, his arms clashed with the thin fabric of his jacket to make themselves noticed, his husky voice made you wince and his bandaged hands infiltrated your dreams. Perhaps you were acting on impulse, but you wanted to get to know him better, after all, no red flags had been raised by now, with the opportunity to learn more about the man, you could accurately assess the situation. So you arrived at the establishment with a firm decision in your head: you were going to ask him out.

Tiredness is still bearing down on your shoulders, but the memory of your motivation for having applied a little more make-up today quickly cheers you up. You wanted to surprise the night security guard in a positive way, hoping that he would accept your request even if he felt sorry for your efforts.

Your workday went smoothly, Alice and Noah arrived in the main hall to check the boxes, you cleaned the corridors and watched the monitors. Everything was going well, even if your stomach was twisting with nervousness at being the first to take action. He seems to be interested in you too, you notice that some of your comments get an almost instant reaction from the man. Perhaps this is a good sign, an indication that he'll accept. But, shit, you were fucking nervous.

With just one hour remaining, you make your way to the main hall. Michael has been arriving at work early to spend more time with you, using the excuse that he wanted to help you organize the boxes and materials brought in by the company's employees. Cute, how eager he is to help you. But a few minutes pass and no Michael. You start to tell yourself that maybe he's decided to be on time today, but when the clock on your wrist shows the end of your workday and the beginning of his, Michael still hasn't come through the door.

Your motivation and stubbornness were something to behold, because even though the night security guard was late, you decided to wait. The courage you'd built up during the day wouldn't last until tomorrow, you had today and only today to ask him to go out with you. Obviously you were nervous or afraid of his response, but if you procrastinated or kept putting it off, you might never find the right moment to do it.

You were fearless, but Michael was confused and nervous about you waiting for him. He knew that you would find his lateness or his absence from your office strange, but the promise he had made to himself was not to look for you again. But when your workday ended and he didn't hear the sound of the doors opening and closing, he thought you might be busy or had missed the time. Well, Michael thought wrong, because 30 minutes had passed and you didn't leave.

Okay, Michael was definitely nervous. You were totally committed in your decision to ask him out, but Michael was losing any motivation whatsoever in the promise he'd made to himself to leave you alone. With every minute that passed, more questions popped into his head: Well, she seems to be waiting for me, it would be awful of me not to answer. Or I don't need to expand any deeper into our interactions, maybe just being by her side during work is enough.

Michael knew the last one was a lie, but the idea that maybe he was exaggerating by ignoring you completely started to make total sense to his heart. After all, he didn't want to hurt you, did he? Honestly, he knew the moment he opened the door to the hideout that no decision he made when searching for you was with you in mind, only him. He was attracted to you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you around, he wanted to talk to you and he wanted to see you now.

When you start to hear someone's footsteps coming from the hallway, you immediately rise to your feet. You hadn't heard the door open or anyone announce their arrival to you, so your first theory was formed: it was an intruder. The footsteps were getting louder and louder, showing that they were approaching you, which made you shout:

"Who's there?!" Your nervous voice disguised in a hoarse, confident tone reaches Michael's ear, who responds with a laugh as he makes himself seen at the end of the corridor.

"The boogeyman, Y/n," he says, as he leans on the arch that merges the end of the corridor with the main hall. Michael crosses his arms and stares at you, who are clearly still nervous about the fright he gave you.

"Fuck- Michael, I didn't hear you enter the establishment, I thought you were an intruder," you say, putting your hand over your pounding heart. Your pulse was a little elevated due to the possibility of an intruder.

"Don't worry, I would have known if there was someone else here," Michael says confidently, which makes you roll your eyes at how lightly he took the subject. He notices your slight irritation, once again impressed by how he manages to have an effect on you.

"I see, Batman, I forgot you have eyes everywhere," you recompose yourself, sitting back down on the chair where you've spent the last few minutes waiting for the man.

"I thought you liked villains?" Michael asks with the intention of teasing, which he succeeds in doing, making you roll your eyes again, drawing a small laugh from the night security guard. Man, how he wanted to make you roll your eyes in a different way.

"Why are you late?" You ignore Michael's last line, wondering where he was, given that you were waiting for him to come through the front door.

"I'm not late," Michael replies, " I was actually a bit early and got some things organized at Ballora's Gallery," he lies. You notice, but you don't say anything. Maybe he was embarrassed that he was late for work?

"Hm, I see," you reply, not wanting to dwell on the subject. "I was waiting for you", you say, a little quieter now, exploring the territory before you drop the bomb. Perhaps, during the conversation, he'll give you some indication that he wasn't interested.

"Thanks, you didn't have to do that," the night security guard says, coming a little closer to you and leaning on the table in front of you, making a point of keeping a safe distance so that you couldn't see his face.

"I know, but I wanted to," you almost whisper, the nervousness that had once been overpowered by your motivation and stubbornness now making itself present in your body, burning the palms of your hands and making your stomach turn in every direction of your body. Has it always been this hot in the main hall?

"Cute. Do you want to distract me from my work?" Michael replies, far too confidently for someone who was freaking out back at the hideout at the thought of even seeing you today. You really had a major effect on him.

You don't even realize that you're not answering, your restless mind making you more and more nervous and insecure. Unconsciously, you start rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants, looking down at the floor, away from Michael. The blood rushes to your cheeks as you realize that you need to ask the question before your body simply stops working and you fall hard into the floor in front of the man who was the target of all your thoughts today.

Michael winces when he hears you let out a sigh and count from 3 to 1 in a quiet voice. Before he could even think about asking if you were all right, he hears:

"Why are you hiding your face from me?" It comes out of your mouth instead of the question you wanted to ask, and Michael notices, because you place your hand over your mouth as if your body had acted without your consent. Your wide eyes also prove that.

"What?" Michael asks, his mind going too fast to understand your questioning. No, actually, he didn't want to believe that's what he'd heard.

"Well, um, why do you hide your face?" The question didn't come out as coherently as you wanted, your nervousness getting the better of your voice, making you stutter a little. You couldn't face him, your body taking you by surprise. As much it was a question that had been on your mind, you didin´t plan on bring it up today, even more so abruptly.

"Yes, I heard," Michael said dryly, not caring how it sounded to you. His head was being invaded by a thousand worries or lies that he could tell you. He wasn't expecting this, well, not for now at least, but Michael knew that it was inevitable that you would start to suspect on why he always lived in the shadows and hid.

But, fuck Y/n*,*** did it have to be today? He wanted more time with you, Michael wanted enough memories with you to live out the rest of his days in peace, he didn't have an exact number and maybe it didn't even exist, but in his traumatic logic, one day he could live away from you just replaying the happy moments that he had with you. Michael thought he could delude his own mind with memories of you, pretending that you would still be there, in the establishment where you work, sitting in the chair that Michael pointed to, letting him hear all the subjects that came into your head. He wanted to memorize your personality and your appearance so that he could leave you alone.

Michael was panicking. Henry was right. He didn't have that privilege, Michael couldn't be distracted, being one of the only ones who knows the truth behind this whole shitty franchise, and maybe getting too close to you would only hurt you and hurt him.

You start to worry when the man in front of you is unresponsive, frozen in place. The establishment was so quiet that you couldn't even hear his heart beating. Maybe he got so nervous that he had a heart attack.

"Michael, look, I only asked because I was curious, you're always hiding, and anyway, I thought I could ask why, since we've been getting closer in the last few days -“ you begin to explain yourself, something you never had to do when you were with Michael. There is a first time for everything, you guess. You get up from where you were sitting, to gently get closer to Michael, still worried about the man's complete stillness.

Michael hesitates as he hears you come closer, his eyes glued to his own feet. He was nervous, did not know what to tell you, did not know what to answer in general, how would he get out of this situation without disappointing you? Michael was never good at explaining himself, or rather, Michael was never good at reacting on emotional situations, like the ones right now. So his body reacts as it always has, almost as a ready-made defense mechanism. He gets angry.

"Yes, I understood the question, I'm not stupid,” the voice full of poison comes out of Michael's lips, and makes you immediately stop in your tracks. What? You can't believe the roughness of his voice when responding to your explanation.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to further stress the man who already seemed to be angry. "Yes, Michael, I know you're not stupid, but I thought I'd better explain myself to not make you more uncomfortable-", again, you try to rationalize with the night security guard, since he was clearly annoyed by your question. The evening was not going at all as you wanted.

Even Michael didn't want that. That's why he got angry, angry at you for not keeping it quiet, angry at you for popping the question and angry at himself for being naive and having these expectations about you. Anger at himself for being angry at you.

”It´s none of your business, Y/n", Michael hesitates with his own tone of voice, anger and irritation filling the small distance you two had. He didn't want to be treating you like that, but that was all he knew how to do. Getting angry was the feeling he knew best.

"Yes, I get it-“ you were going to apologize for apparently overstepping an inner boundary for him, but he interrupts you before you can.

”Don't ever ask me anything like that again", Michael's thick, dry reply comes in your ears, and you start to feel a little frustrated at the way he was treating you. You didn't mean to upset him, and even if you did, it was unintentional, he genuinely didn't need to be treating you like that.

“Why are you talking to me like that?" You ask, frustration evident in your voice. Michael lifts his eyes as soon as he hears your stress, allowing his gaze to meet yours behind the hood and the shadows. If he wasn't sure it was impossible, he'd think you were staring at all of his sins.

”You were being noisy, I reacted as anyone would react", Michael shrugs, once again not taking the situation you were in seriously. You didn't know he was actually masking his own fear.

"Noisy? Michael, I asked you a question, you didn't like it, you could just had told me, you didn't have to be rude”, you cross your arms in irritation, upset with the way the man had reacted.

Michael knows that if he doesn't change the course of the conversation, he would end up arguing with you the same way he fought with Henry in the morning. He didn't have the guts to argue with you.

The night security guard in front of you takes a deep breath, and says, “Look, Y/n, I know we're getting closer, but I have - erm, skin problems that I don't like to comment on,” Michael lies, and lies badly by the way, not having prepared or rehearsed any of this lie with Henry.

You noticed, just like you noticed all of his lies before this one. This seems to add fuel to your pending frustration.

“Why do you always lie?”, your voice coming out louder than intended, filling the main hall with your words and your feelings. Michael feels his heart stop for the second time in his life.

“You always lie! Michael, I think I'm mature enough to hear that you don't want to tell me or that you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to lie - damn, it frustrates me!" You unwittingly explode in front of Michael, feelings and suspicions accumulated since the first time he lied to you.

Michael doesn't respond, just brings his hands to his face in, what? Frustration? Irritation? Appeal? He no longer knows what he is feeling, nervous about the direction this conversation was taking. You wanted to know, and honestly, Michael knows that if he keeps getting close to you, you deserved to know. But he didn't have the courage to tell, he didn't want to have to face the possibility that you wouldn't accept him or not look at him the same way. You had such beautiful eyes, how he would live the rest of the his days after seeing the same eyes fill with disgust at the sight of Michael's true form.

“I was going to ask you out on a date today,” you say softly, your outburst seemingly easing some of the nerves you were feeling. You weren't even angry anymore, just sad, sad at the illusion of the man you created in your head.

If Michael had a functional heart, it would have stopped beating for the third time at that moment. You were going to ask him out on a date? He almost found himself feeling excited about the possibility, however, the reality hits him in the face so hard that he remembers: he can't leave the establishment. Michael was not alive, he was an anomaly in biology and science, a zombie from comics and horror stories. How would he go on a date with you?

"You don't have to answer", you lower your head, averting your gaze from Michael's eyes, returning to face the floor tiles of the main hall.

Think of something. Think of some answer. Do something. Michael was frozen in place, a roller coaster of feelings built in his mind. You were interested in him, he realized, you wanted the same thing he wanted, you wanted him on a date with you. Damn, the idea seems so delicious that he can almost taste it.

You turn your back to him, ready to leave the man alone and return home, consequently giving up the possibility of you and Michael having anything but the long conversations and tickets exchanged. Before your heart can break any further, you hear:

“If I ask for you to do something, do you promise to trust me?", the man's voice fills your ears with hope again. He didn't sound as confident as he always sounded, in fact, fear was, for the first time, apparent in his voice.

You stop in your tracks and looked at him, assessing whatever kind of body language he had. Honestly, you couldn't identify anything, but your heart was so hopeful that you didn't even evaluate the proposal when you answered, “Yes.”

”Let me blindfold you, then I will tell you everything", Michael says, approaching you, with cautious and unsure steps. Insecurity does not match with Michael.

It was a lie, you notice almost immediately, but before you can ask or get frustrated with another lie from him, you are startled by how close you two were. Because of Michael's height, your head was on his torso, meaning you could smell the fabric of his coat and the men's perfume. This closeness with Michael seemed illegal, so much so that you couldn't even make yourself look up, as if it was forbidden to look into his face with such a distance.

Your excitement only got worse when you felt his big hands meet the tie on your security uniform. The touch was delicate and cautious, as if at any moment you were going to push him or pull away. You didn't have the courage to do that, not when, in so long, you wished for that small distance between you and him. You wanted his touch, you wanted to smell him, you wanted to see up close the height difference between you two. And damn, how huge he was made all the functioning of your brain fail.

You only became conscious again when you felt the small tissue touch your eyes. You decided to surrender, accepting Michael's conditions, not moving at all in fear of scaring him or that he would decide that this distance was too close. The smell of him flooded your nose, the perfume making you lose any kind of sanity present in your body.

When Michael managed to bind the tie behind your head, he breathed a sigh of relief. You were totally blind, there was no possibility that you would end up seeing him or any glimpse of his dead skin. You trusted him, that said a lot to the man, and honestly, he was thanking any entity he knew for allowing that, because now Michael could do what he really wanted from the moment you confessed.

You were nervous, uneasy at the sudden silence of the man who blindfolded you. Your hands glued to your body due to lack of vision. Michael's body was still close to yours, you could feel it, his gaze burning into your figure, making you blush. You were embarrassed, not knowing what to do.

“Hm, Michael?" You call to him, but he wasn't going to answer you, having another idea in mind. His lips meet yours. Michael Afton had finally kissed you.

[dollywheeler]

September 27th, 1996

Dear diary,

I fumbled.

I fumbled and almost made the wrong turn and I could have died.

I could have died on the spot and it would have been less awful.

It's so embarrassing I can barely think back on it, but I can't stop. It keeps playing through my head again and again.

Everything started so great - the gymnasium was loud and colorful and bright, and everything I love about game days.

The gymnasium was crowded too - every student and teacher, and even some of the girls that graduated last June. Hell, mom and dad were there. Of course they are there when I mess up! I wanted them to see how good I was getting, not fumbling around like a complete idiot!

I really don't know what happened; I've never made a mistake like that ever. I'd been so looking forward to it, working so hard to make sure I knew the routine by heart. I should have been able to do it in my sleep.

I just managed to keep it together until the game started up again and I could sneak out into the hallway. I'm sure at least one of the girls saw me leave, but they know I usually do this when I fuck up so they let me be. I haven't needed to since Freshman year - I've been working so hard exactly so this wouldn't happen again.

I still don't know why I do it. Obviously it's better to hide, where no one can see me until my skin stops itching and I stop feeling like everyone is staring at me. But I also know it's counterproductive. I know it just makes me sink deeper into my failure, know that I'll just be miserable and alone if I run away. But I can't stop it - I just can't stand being around that many people anymore.

The last time had been at an away game - some school closer to Chicago that I can't even remember. The best I could do there was some alcove in a dark hallway. At home I knew where to go. It had been a while since I had gone out there, but the bench on the far side of the building was still there, far enough from the gymnasium that it was always quiet and empty. No one wandered far enough from the game to find it.

It was starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple, which was nice but also strange. Usually it's already fully dark out, and it feels like there's more cover. I still felt too exposed now, even sitting there curled up with my arms wrapped around my knees. I'd forgotten my jacket.

"There you are." I jumped at the sudden voice, not expecting anyone to have followed me. Even if I had, the last person I would have expected to see was Mike. He was slightly out of breath as if he'd had to run to catch up to me. I hadn't even noticed he was at the game, though it stood to reason he wouldn't have sat with the other teachers just yet.

He came to a stop in front of me, suddenly slightly awkward as he looked me over. "Hey."

I honestly didn't know what to say so I just stared at him, baffled he was there in the first place. No one ever followed me. And suddenly Mike had appeared out of nowhere, blipped into existence when I had spent the last few years trying to forget he even exists. He's not supposed to exist - just a negative space in the last seven years of my life.

"I know you're not a fan of me but-," he started, fumbling over his words as he inched closer to the bench. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"I didn't even know you were here." I frowned, swallowing against the knot in my throat, my voice shaky even to my own ears. I wanted him to leave. I didn't want to be alone. "I thought you had plans this weekend."

"Uh, yeah - the party's back in town. Well, everyone except Dustin because he has some conference or whatever, but... uh, yeah, we were planning to come to the game. We wanted to come see your show. El and Max are here too. Lucas tried but he's not really a fan of basketball anymore so he left early..."

He rambles a lot, I noticed, sounding nothing like he does when I overhear him talking to just Will. In class, he rambles a lot too, but at least there he's doing so with purpose, knowing what he's saying and when to stop. It made him look awkward and out of place, as if it's me that's making him nervous. As if I'm not just the little sister that's nine years too immature for him, shoved into the corner of the room with a pile of dolls so I'm out of the way.

"Great," I told him, my misery finally making me cave and scooting over to make space for Mike on the bench. He seemed surprised, hesitant still to join me, which I had to admit was kind of funny. Still, I sobered up again quickly enough, a shiver running through me at the memory. "At least one person that didn't see me completely humiliate myself."

"Come on, Holzie." Mike nudged my shoulder, and I was thrown off guard by the new nickname, pulling my attention away from my spinning thoughts. "It really wasn't that obvious. I noticed at least two girls that were out of step the entire routine - you made one tiny mistake that no one will remember."

"It's that I made the mistake at all," I corrected him, and to my dismay and complete mortification, my voice cracked. "I'm not the best if I make stupid mistakes like that. And if I'm not the best I'll never make cheer captain and I'll just be one more girl on the cheerleading team that no one really-" cares about is what I was going to say, but luckily I cut myself off before I could finish. I know it's stupid. Know everyone is important. There's not a girl on the team I wouldn't miss - but that's because they're my friends.

For once I want people to notice me for me. I want to make a mark to people that don't know me at all. Want people to see me, notice me, because of me, not because they already know about me.

Worse, I started crying in front of the last person on earth I wanted to cry in front of. The only person in the world who I've spent my entire life trying to convince I'm not a baby anymore. There's just something about Mike that always makes me feel younger than I am. Inadequate.

"You will," Mike assured me, "no one works harder than you."

I was confused what made him think that. How he would know. It's not something I like to advertise, and it only made me cry harder. Because that's the point - I have to work twice as hard to be half as good as everyone else. Everyone else gets it with the six hours practice we have a week - they're flawless, make no mistakes at all. It's just not fair.

And I'm so tired of trying to catch up.

I desperately tried to wipe my tears away as quickly as possible as we sat in silence for a while, Mike leaning closer and handing me a tissue he pulled from his pocket. For some reason, it always helps me stop crying once I can wipe my face dry, physically putting myself together, so I was grateful even if I was completely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I used to be good at this," Mike chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he nudged my shoulder again. "It's been a while."

If he were, I don't remember it.

I told him we should get back inside, even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. But Daniel was still playing, and I couldn't stay gone from the team forever either, so I sucked it up. I just hoped I could stop by the bathroom to make sure I didn't look like a complete nutcase - which was a terrible idea because of course I did, now I just knew exactly how fucked I looked.

Before we entered the gymnasium Mike stopped me.

He told me he'd seen me practicing on the field sometimes.

After everything I seriously couldn't be any more embarrassed so I just shrugged and confirmed it, even though I was confused as to where he was going with it. I also hadn't considered anyone showing up early being able to see me, so it was good to know for the future.

"I know I can't tell you what to do but... please don't practice without the team - at least not the crazy gymnastic jump things." I blinked at him in surprise, perplexed at his request. It's not like I was in anyone's way or bothering anyone, but he explained it was dangerous and didn't want me to fall and get hurt with no one around to get help. And it didn't feel like a scolding - I mean I felt stupid for not having thought about that myself, but for some reason i didn't care about any of that.

I promised I wouldn't anymore, and as we entered the gymnasium I automatically searched out mom and dad. Dad was watching the game, but mom is usually bored by the game itself, so it wasn't a surprise that she'd been looking out for me, immediately noticing us by the door. It stood to reason she'd already deduced Mike had been at the game too, but she seemed content to wait for the dinner to talk to him again because she just smiled at us before looking at the game now she knew we were okay.

Mike asked if I wanted to come sit by him and his friends for a bit. Now I knew to look for them I found them easily enough in the left top corner of the bleachers on their side of the court - Max was the most obvious with her bright hair, and from there it was easy to find Will and El sitting on either side of her. I know El the least out of all of Mike's friends, which I've always found strange because I'm pretty sure they dated at some point and before Mike and Will had moved back, she'd been the one hanging around Hawkins the most often. Even from that far away I could see her expressive features, and she hadn't had those pink streaks in her hair the last time I'd seen her. They suited her.

I'd like to talk to Max again, thank her in person for helping Mike pick out my birthday present, but of course, even if I wanted to take Mike up on his offer, I couldn't, having to go sit with the rest of the team. I could already see Dylan smiling at me and beckoning me closer, so I just dismissed Mike. I thanked him though, because even though he hadn't been much help in making me feel better, it had been nice that he'd followed me. That he'd sat with me.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get my sense back.

For now I'm too worn out to be angry.

At least I think writing has helped me calm down enough from my embarrassment to sleep.

Love, Holly

[yamada-ryo]

Thoughts on Disco Elysium:

Went into the game completely blind other than the obvious "inner speech characterisation" thing and the following

The game calls you a centerist if you don't pick a political stance

Our lucky racist will grant you 3 wishes

Lamby

There's something with this Cuno kid

Drove his own car into the sea

Kim Kimball Kitsuragi

And that's it

Thoughts:

Grabbed the horrific necktie so quick I didn't even do the skill check and was wondering why the tie wasn't speaking to me

I thought the inner monolouge voice was his actual voice. Until the karaoke part.

Loved how the game lets you call yourself Raphael as an option at every point in the game despite multiple characters calling him Harry. I never once made him call himself Harry.

I didn't believe the ex wife thing one bit. Still don't. Genuinely think it's just part of his mind acting up. After all if he forgot everything how can I trust that this one supposed memory of his is real

Didn't drink or use speed at all. Bought one pack of smokes just to set the paint on fire.

Didn't go after any women because I thought he was homosexual by default and was wondering when I could romance Kim (didn't know homosexuality had to be unlocked first)

^also why I didn't buy the ex wife thing one bit. That and half light insisting that I don't pursue the thought

"A major part of being a communist is arguing with other communists"

The part about the game developer being fired from his own company

Died in the chair about 5 times because I didn't know the number above the health bars was the number of heals I had at the time (2) and not an indicator of my maximum health (also 2). Also didn't know how to heal

Bought about 20-25 health pills just to tank the ruby encounter only for her to run away before I used most of it

Lady who bought the pawned gun straight up didn't spawn. Like I could hear the police sirens at the spot where she was supposed to be but there was no one there

I thought Kim would get shot no matter what but apparently not. Raphael got shot in the leg and Kim was hit on the head

Softlocked myself from the ice cream maker machine and had to forget a skill to retry it

Didn't buy any dice or sneakers or speakers

Didn't know it at the time but I learnt indirect modes of taxation and had the +1 shoes on so I was getting 2 real every time I talked to someone and had more money than I ever needed

Gym guy (sunday friend's friend) actually noticed I was wearing the hat I knicked from his room which was cool

There is no way Cunoesse's last name is actually "vittu"

Royalty free alternate universe Karl Marx

Measurehead finally got off the gangway and it turns out you can't even press the button. And the box behind him there all this time only had 1.10 real in it. SAD!

The fact that there even is an option to shoot Cunoesse

Was hoping Kim would wear the matching PISSFAGGOT jacket (he didn't)

Ran about shoeless on the first day. Found the balcony shoe just before debreifing with Kim. Then found the shoe in the starting room.

Thought there would be more to Contact Mike but no Raphael just confuses one poor girl about it

Didn't buy the map until day 3 and didn't figure out how fast travel worked until day 5

Is the expression rigor mortis? Did he have The Expression during all that? Even the gunfight?

The pawn shop owner is the only character that responds to you having a torch in your hand. Also cool detail where if the cursor is in front of Raphael the torch will shine in the direction of the cursor

Paid 20 real for the motel room first thing in the morning before I realised I had free accomodation for the night at the pier

Not much to say about the harbour since my screen fucking died

[fandomwritingbit]

Just a little Mike Afton idea (gn reader)

I was gonna call it Breaking the Ice but that's too good a title for this shite lmao.

No warnings aside from bad language.

Somehow, you completely missed the signs, the physical ones cable tied on to lampposts but also the social ones, like everyone walking around this part of the path. You're too lost in your hurry to get to the bus stop, you're late and it's so fucking cold, if you miss it you'll be shivering at the stop for a good while. So you're walking fast with your head down.

As you get to the end of the street, you do notice that the path is pretty empty here. Most others have crossed the road, except for a couple of people. You realise why when you completely lose your footing, skidding a good metre on a pool of ice and smashing into a fella in front of you. You hit him hard, and the slippery ground sends the two of you tumbling to the floor.

Okay... that hurt. Hurt quite a bit, but you’re alright. You quickly look over to the man you hit, panicking a little at the sight of him. The young bloke fell on his back and was still laid there, you must have took the feet right under him.

"Shit, shit, shit- are you okay?" You ask quickly, sitting up and looking down at him. Relief washes over you when you see him laughing, a hand covering his face. He was going to be angry at first, the words, "what the fuck are you doing?!" resting on his tongue, but it quickly surrendered to giggles. He was being so mindful of his footing, walking so slowly and of course someone else sent him fucking flying.

"I was doing so well!" He manages to say through his chuckling, slowly propping himself up on his hands. His smile is pretty contagious, and you find yourself grinning too.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see it- I wasn't looking. I'm... sorry." You try to explain whilst also trying to get to your feet.

"It's alright... was bound to happen." He says through that handsome smile, finally getting a look at the person that just hit him like a train and liking what he sees.

When you do stand, you nearly slip again, gripping the nearby railing to keep yourself up. You notice now that half of your body is wet and cold from the floor, feeling extra guilt that he must be soaking too.

"Here, let me help you up." You offer, sticking out your hand for the bloke to take. He looks ay you for a moment before accepting, though he's careful not too pull too hard that you'll both end up floored again. It takes a while of slipping back and forth before you're both stood up fully and not holding on to something for support.

"You sure you're alright? I really didn't mean to-"

"I think I'll live." He says with a heavy dose of sarcasm, smirking before adding, "Where are you in such a hurry to go, opticians?"

"Oh ha ha." You say flatly, "I suppose I deserve that." The guy smiles at you accepting the blame, embarrassment still pinching your expression in a sweet way. Then remembering why you were in fact in such a rush, your bus, the one you were already late for. You glance down to the watch on your wrist, already defeated before you even read the clockface: you've no chance of catching it now. You sigh, surprisingly not too upset that you'd have to hang around an extra hour.

"I was trying to catch my bus..." You finally get around to answering this bloke's question, your face during the delivery telling him that you'd missed it.

"Oh damn." He laughs, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, "you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I might just pop in somewhere, have a drink." You're thinking aloud, not really sure what you would do to fill out the time, you glance at the man in front of you and an idea spawns. "Hey, you don't want to come with me do you? I'll buy you a drink, you know, as an apology." You speak whilst smiling, a joking tone to your voice.

"Oh you don't have to do that-"

"I know, it could be nice." You try to assure him, but quickly panic that you might be being too pushy. "But, obviously, no pressure."

He thinks for a second, grinning at the uncertain look crossing your face... "No, you're right. It uh could be nice."

[spicysix]

fake it 'till you make it | jonathan byers X reader

“It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault. I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.” or: you and Jonathan create a plan to make Nancy jealous

warnings: fake relationship, in between S1 and S2, gn! reader (no pronouns, no gendered terms, no y/n used). mostly fluff, a pinch of crack taken seriously at the beginning just because i love it, right before all the fucking feels hit in. and my already known absurd use of italics.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: based on this request, thank you so much anon. your request drove me completely insane, i had a few out of body experiences and ended up with 9k words of love and devotion to Jonathan Byers. don't worry, no Nancy hate in here, it's almost as much of a love letter to her as it is to Jonathan tbh, Reader just doesn't know better in the first paragraphs. hope y'all like it! don't forget to reblog if you do, and comments are always treasured and kept in a little golden box in my nightstand for me to delight in them on lonely nights ♡

↳ ao3

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, let’s start from the top.

Jonathan has always kind of been there. He didn't say much, he didn't present himself much, he didn't get quite noticed. But he has always been there. And you had a thing for those who weren't actually seen, but that had always been there anyway.

Your interest was purely out of curiosity, though, of course. Because you wanted to understand the whole thing. Sure, you had the bigger picture — abusive, absent father, overprotective mom, young brother, and the whole heavy weight of teen parentalization on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

Multiply that for, like, a billion, and we get what we got after November 6th: missing young brother, over-overprotective mom, asshole opportunistic father, and the whole heavy weight of guilt on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

And, in the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, wait, from the top again.

It was mid-May, and Jonathan was just there, as usual. Revealing some photos, the bigger and the smaller pictures you were so deeply curious to see. A precisely requested assignment for a History project — you really loved History, you'd put all your effort into it — and, oh wow! You were also there!

Both of you revealing your pictures, Johnathan had used that shiny new camera he showed up with after Christmas break — after Nancy Wheeler's boyfriend, Steve Harrington, broke the previous one (I mean, if the rumors were true, Johnny-boy was being kind of a creep. But apparently he apologized or whatever, because after Steve's purple eye and Will Byers' death and resuscitation thing, you've seen Johnathan, Steve, and Nancy Wheeler having lunch all together. As crazy as it all sounded).

That’s a digression, back from the top again.

You and Jonathan were sharing the silence only a red room and its buzzing little red lamp lights could provide, minding your own business. Well, he was minding his own business, you were kind of curious about the bigger and the smaller pictures. Minding his business as well.

Shoulder to shoulder as you worked on your photos, you hanging your own as Jonathan took his down from where they've been drying.

It was literally a bigger and a smaller picture, okay, I kid you not.

Jonathan seemed to get lost in his thoughts as he analyzed the bigger one, the one you've seen already — what seemed to be a reunion of sorts between the Byers and the Wheelers, parents and children, and those other two little gremlins that Will and Mike (was it Mike? Nancy’s younger brother, Will’s best friend) were inseparable friends with.

The younger ones were sitting on the floor, those huge smiles on their baby faces, happiness exhaling from, well, probably finding out that their friend that had gone missing for a week wasn't actually dead.

The parents, Joyce Byers, and Karen and What's-His-Face Wheeler were sitting on the couch behind the kids, pride and joy in the mothers' faces and boredom on the father's face — it was his permanent state, you were aware of it by now from seeing him from time to time on the streets.

Pretty, preppy, prissy Nancy was standing behind the couch, just behind her daddy, younger baby sister in her arms as she smiled that tiny little pouty smile of hers. No pretty, preppy, poshy Steve in sight, you wondered where he was, as Jonathan was standing beside Nancy and the baby, hands in his pants pockets, that perpetual blank stare in his eyes of someone being constantly haunted.

You found it cute, somehow.

Cute in, like, a curious kind of way. Wanted to find out what was haunting him so badly.

And then. In the present, real, out-of-picture time or whatever, Jonathan snapped out of his thoughts as he went to get the other picture — the smaller one — from where it was hanging. His hand stopped a single inch before touching it, and you saw from the corner of your eye that he was looking at you from the corner of his eye. Combine the peripheral vision situation with his hesitancy to grab the smaller picture, your life-long curiosity and an impulsive strike, and before you even thought about what you were doing, you were suddenly grabbing the fucking picture before Jonathan could.

You grabbed it, and he let out what sounded like a gasp and a whimper at the same time, and you walked backward until your back met the wall behind you. And Jonathan was all over you in a second, trying to grab your arms as you put them behind your back, hiding the picture — you didn't even get to see it, had no idea what he was so mortified about. He was saying, or screaming maybe, something at you that you couldn’t distinguish because his head was too close to yours. Distress all over his cute scrawny face, and you barely had the time to register the guilt bubbling in your stomach — because, fuck, why did you do that? It was a personal thing, you weren't even friends, you had talked to him like five times tops if you didn't count the whole trimester where you were basically best friends because of that Science project in freshman year.

You missed freshman year.

Anyway, there was no time to think about freshman year.

Over from the top, for real this time!

In the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Literally, physically enters the red room while you and Jonathan are pressed together against the wall, your arms behind your back, his arms on your arms and waist or maybe hips — you were unfocused, to be honest, by the fact that he was basically manhandling you with all his scrawny kid strength.

Well, Jonathan did win a fight over Steve Harrington, handed the School King's ass to him on a golden plate, so you shouldn't be that much surprised.

Alas, Nancy stopped at the door, her huge doe eyes getting even huger, sharp jaw going slack, long pointy fingers wrapped so tightly around the door handle that her knuckles were white.

"Oh! I- Jesus, I'm sorry! Jonathan, I-" Jonathan hadn't said a word since she entered, his whole body had gone frozen, and you were afraid he had stopped breathing altogether. "I'll come back later? I- Or, you'll come find me? I- Oh, god, I'm sorry!"

She ran off after her eloquent speech, not waiting for an answer and slamming the door behind her. Jonathan walked away from you and started murmuring something under his breath while walking in circles within the tiny space in the red room, forgetting about you and your stupid kidnapping of his picture, and finding out a new something to stress about.

You brought your arm to your front, finally looking at it and seeing what he really didn’t want you to see in the picture.

Guess who?

Nancy Fucking Wheeler.

It was on the same day as the other photo if Nancy’s clothes were to say, and she was away from the camera, her profile showing. Holding a single flower — you had no idea which one, you didn’t understand much about flowers. You knew it wasn’t a rose — in between her thin fingers, nose close to the petals, a delicate smile on her lips. She was in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing her in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust around her, and yet she was the main focus of the whole frame.

As far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Something stirred in your belly, something raw and annoying and mean, but you ignored it and approached Jonathan carefully — as he was still kind of shaking, palms pressed tightly against his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already stretching your arm to give him back his Nancy Wheeler love portrait. “Curiosity killed the cat and whatnot,” you muttered as he looked at you with anger and snatched the photo from your fingers.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna get you killed too.” His voice was restrained, his whole strength going into not yelling at you again even if his words were threatening enough. “You should go,” he commanded before remembering that his pictures were ready and yours weren’t. “I should go.”

He gathered his photos, his tools and his backpack, and you couldn’t will yourself to tear your eyes from every single movement he made, even if it was painful to watch because he was so clearly pissed at you — and rightfully so.

“If it’s any worth, she looked jealous,” you said, right before he left the red room.

Jonathan paused, door half open, his hand gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were going white — a perfect mirror image of what Nancy looked like just a few minutes before. He didn’t turn to look at you or to answer your remark, just huffed, shook his head, and left, slamming the door behind him.

You rubbed your face, felt like tearing your hair off your head, took a few long, deep breaths before resuming your task of revealing the photos for your History Project. Buried every single feeling into your head and heart, they weren’t worthy to feel or talk about, and you had more pressing urges.

The History Project. Something about your local community, how a small town revolved around its few citizens, and you thanked every god you could come up with that Jonathan left before you revealed your last picture. Or, that you distracted Jonathan enough by prodding onto his secrets before the revealing liquid did its job and revealed the secrets you were hiding yourself.

You took the picture from the container with the revealing liquid and hung it alongside the other ones you had already put up to dry. You looked at your secret smaller picture.

Out of frame, you knew that Joyce Byers was at the cashier counter of Melvald’s, handing little Will some random candy as he looked excited at the gift. In the frame, in the picture, focused on, behind Will, was Jonathan. Also on his profile, almost the same angle as his own picture of Nancy. He was smiling softly at the sight of his family once again reunited in such an uneventful task such as grocery shopping. The natural daylight from outside the store made his skin glow, and the little crisp texture and reflexes of the not-so-clean window between you and him made the picture look somehow cozy — the opposite effect of distancing that you’d think it would give it. He was at the very center of the frame, soft brown jacket over his shoulders, hands holding plastic bags as he waited for his brother, his pink cheeks making your own face heat up — you remembered. You were infatuated with how relaxed he looked, some of that whole heavy weight finally off his scrawny shoulders; so relaxed that he didn’t even notice you from across the street, taking the picture like a fucking weirdo stalker.

And as far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Thankfully, your own ears were the only ones at range. And accustomed to the noise already.

-✧-

“I fucked up.”

Those were the first words you heard from Jonathan after the whole Nancy Wheeler love portrait fiasco in the red room. It was Friday already, and three whole days had passed - not that you were waiting for him to come talk to you sooner, because you never even talked before that, but something about the way you’d cross eyes in the hallways of the school made the air between you two weighted with something other than your crippling guilt.

“Come again?” you asked, setting down the Bukowski book you were pretending to read for your English class - ugh, Bukowski annoyed you.

Jonathan, for some reason, seemed annoyed at you.

‘Some reason’, okay, other than the obvious reason.

“I avoided Nancy after that day for as long as I could, but then she cornered me earlier today and I got too nervous and might have made the whole situation worst than it already was,” he answered, looking around him as if someone in the school parking lot was about to come out from behind a car and punch him in the face.

Hm, maybe Steve Harrington would.

“How did you manage that?” you asked again, crossing a leg under the other where you were sitting on the bench.

“I might have told her we, you and me, I mean, are… in a relationship.”

There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Jonathan in front of you, staring at you, waiting for your answer, but he was kind of blurry and the people walking behind him seemed to move in slow motion all of a sudden. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer him.

“You. What.”

He groaned, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before he rubbed his eyes with the tip of his fingers.

“She came at me, asked who you were and if everything was okay that day, and all I could think of was you saying she had been jealous and, I don’t know, it felt like I blacked out or was possessed or something and then, out of nowhere, I was saying we were dating.”

“To make her more jealous?” you confirmed, and he shrugged violently.

“I guess!” he almost yelled, and then curled over himself in embarrassment. He hid his whole face behind the palms of his hands and you wanted to push them away, hold his cheeks yourself and-

Nope, block that thought out.

“Okay,” you said instead.

“Okay? ‘Okay’, what? Jesus, are you even more insane than I thought?”

You shrugged and pretended his words didn’t sting. “I’m saying we should go for it.” You saw his mouth opening, and spoke before whatever words were going to come out of him could hurt you further: “I can be your fake lover, you make Nancy jealous, she finds out she wants you and not Steve, dumps his ass and you and her will live happily ever after.”

Why were your impulsive thoughts making you so willingly throw yourself into a scenery that was only going to hurt you badly? You had no answer for that.

Jonathan frowned and actually seemed to consider, which was probably worse because you were pretty sure he was going to immediately deny your offer. It was a crazy fucking offer after all, who did you think you were? Molly Ringwald in a rom-com?

Well, apparently Jonathan thought he was Anthony Michael Hall, because the next thing he said was: “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Dude. You’re kidding me?” you asked, twisting your entire body to fully face him and he seemed confused. “I was being sarcastic!” You weren’t, not really, but he didn’t know that. “We can’t do that, it won’t work! Just grow out some balls and ask her out, or whatever.”

You got up and started gathering your stuff since your free period was coming to an end, but Jonathan held your wrist before you could leave, a wave of shock starting where your skins connected all the way up to your brain. You ignored it.

“I already embarrassed myself too much in front of her. Please?” he begged, those sweet eyes of his staring deeply into your soul, and you huffed.

Closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him, pulled your arm away so he wouldn’t touch you. He had too much power over you — and he had no idea.

“You owe me one, boyfriend,” you said just in time for the bell to ring, and then you were on your way to your English class, Bukowski ignored and forgotten, Jonathan’s pleading eyes the only thing on your mind.

“So, boyfriend, how did our love story begin?” Your question startled Jonathan, who hadn’t seen your approach.

He was sitting on the bench furthest from the entry of the park, looking at every direction around him just as he was in the school parking lot earlier that day. Still scared Steve Harrington would pop out of nowhere to beat his ass in revenge a few weeks late.

Jonathan had the luck of not sharing a single class with you over the rest of the school day, so he slipped a little note into your locker at some point, like a middle schooler trying to flirt. His note, however, did not read “WANNA GO GET MILKSHAKES WITH ME? [ ] YES [ ] NO - MARK WITH AN X”, but a simple “meet me @ train station park after school, gotta plan this right” instead.

Underwhelming.

You, however, were a pro at nothing else except committing to a bit, and it had been your stupid idea after all. So you went to the damn train station park to meet him and plan your damn love story, just so the two of you could make damned Nancy Wheeler jealous.

Jonathan was jumpy and kept as much distance in between you on the bench as he could, as if he was afraid you were going to attack him and devour his flesh like a monster coming from a sci-fi horror. You buried all your thoughts and feelings for him in the deepest of corners inside your mind (you’ve been doing that a lot, lately) and tried not to take any of his skittish reactions personally.

The two of you worked nicely, considering all the circumstances, and came up with some ideas that weren’t half bad. If you stopped to think why you were even doing all that in the first place, you’d have a hysterical laughing fit, so you just pretended like you were rehearsing a school play or something.

“You… need a ride?” Jonathan asked and you thought for half a minute before denying.

Surely it would be better if the two of you spent more time together since you were supposed to be dating. But Jonathan was still acting weird — more than usual — and you really didn’t want to impose or to feel worse than you already did from all his mistreatment.

“Uh, no, house’s not that far,” you lied, it was a good walk to your home, but Jonathan seemed relieved at your answer so you felt like you picked the right one.

You suppressed the need to huff, roll your eyes and push him in annoyance or do something else a middle schooler would do.

You also suppressed the will to smile politely at him as you said your goodbyes because, frankly, he wasn’t so deserving of it.

Phone numbers were exchanged in case of emergencies or needs to plan further, and you left before he could come up with something else. You were tired, drained really, from suppressing so much the whole day, and you couldn’t wait to sleep throughout the whole weekend if you could. Hoping no ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ emergencies would come up. Building up the courage to continue your own ‘You love Jonathan Byers and would do anything for him’ stupid plan.

-✧-

From all the worldviews you had to deconstruct as you grew older — you know, like, Santa isn't real, Reagan’s not a good president no matter what your grandpa said, vegetables are good for your health, and no, U2 wasn't actually that great of a band-

Well, the hardest and also easiest mental worldview deconstruction to be made was that Nancy Wheeler was actually a nice gal.

It was easy because it happened only after your first lunch with your brand new boyfriend Jonathan, and his great best friends Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler herself.  Because it took Nancy one single lunch to win you over with all that wit, brains, charm of hers. And it was hard because, let's be honest, you've been holding a grudge over her for absolutely nothing (let’s call it nothing, okay?) for… a couple of years, now.

It happened Monday, and Jonathan was waiting for you outside your classroom right before lunch break, ready to take you to meet his friends or whatever they were. You were caught by surprise, but you were also a great improviser, and so you tucked his hands into yours (ignored his astounded demeanor and the blush in his cheeks, and that electric wave that hit you again) and let him lead you down the hallways.

You tried not to pay attention to all the looks you received. If all that had happened before November, you wouldn’t even be noticed — neither you nor Jonathan noticeable enough to gather attention from your peers. After his… well, after everything that happened to him and around him after November 6th, though, Jonathan was a little more perceived around school grounds.

Your face burned and your palms sweat with all the eyes turned on you, but you mastered the art of looking blasé all the way to the cafeteria. All the way to the table where Steve and Nancy were sitting side by side, his arm over her shoulder as they talked quietly.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted as you reached the table, and the couple looked up at you. Steve raised an eyebrow and Nancy’s face contorted in some way before settling into a smile. Jonathan introduced you by name. “we’re dating,” he said, mostly to Steve who didn’t seem to know the news.

“Oh, wow. Cool, man. And nice to meet you,” Steve nodded at you with his million-dollar smile.

“Same,” you answered before letting go of Jonathan’s hand, sitting down and getting your sandwich from your backpack.

Jonathan sat down beside you and you could feel how stiff he was moving. You’d normally reach out and try and reassure him through physical contact if he was a friend of yours. But even though you were dating, you didn’t know if he would react nicely to that. So you kept to yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you properly,” Nancy called out, reaching across the table to rest her hand against your arm. Her skin was warm. “I’m sorry about… the other day.”

Steve turned to her clearly confused, and you answered before he could ask questions.

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, we have Math together, don’t we?” you asked instead, and Nancy nodded before going on a rampage about the Math teacher who was an absolute asshole.

She didn’t seem like a huge talker, but that was just one of your misconceptions about her that she went off on proving you wrong about. She seemed cold and distant, but she was actually really attentive and asked questions about you all lunch. She seemed uptight and annoying, but she was actually really funny and amusing. She seemed arrogant and presumptuous, but she was actually really down to earth and offered to help you with some English assignments in exchange for you to help her with some Math assignments.

She talked quietly and smoothly, and had witty remarks to every single comment her boyfriend made — not all of them were dumb, and not all of Nancy’s answers bordered on mean, but some of them certainly did. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though. He looked at her as if she hung the Sun all the way up in the sky. It was funny to see them side by side. They had a lot in common, physically. Top line, casual-chic clothing, elegant fabric softener smell, ironed to no faults. Sharp-edged jaws and expressive eyes, silk-smooth tongues and winning smiles, charisma all over.

That’s as far as it went, though.

Her nerdy comments went in through Steve’s left ear and out through his right. Jonathan laughed at them. Her journalistic eye caught onto little details that went unnoticed by her boyfriend. Jonathan noticed them with her. Steve smiled politely at Jonathan’s dry jokes, not always understanding them, but Nancy hid her laughs behind her wrist.

As if god was trying to show you that opposites attract, and if the devil was trying to give him a counterpoint of: no, actually, similars attract. All happening right in front of your skeptical eyes in the middle of school lunch, in between Science and PE.

Jonathan walked you to your next class after it was all over, and you were overwhelmed with how much you enjoyed Nancy Wheeler’s company. Which made it all extra difficult, since now you understood Jonathan’s infatuation with her.

“See you later,” he said his goodbye at the gym entrance.

A group of people walked past the two of you and Jonathan thought it was a good idea to land a kiss on your cheek. Your breath hitched and you didn’t have the time to say goodbye back before Jonathan was walking to the main building, to his own class.

Your cheek burned the whole day, and so did the hand you used to hold his through the hallways, and your heart ached with the thoughts on your mind of how much Jonathan and Nancy seemed meant to be, and how much you wish they weren’t.

-✧-

It was two whole weeks of that. Two whole weeks walking hand-in-hand with Jonathan and sitting with him, Nancy, and Steve at lunch. And sitting beside Nancy at the Math classes you shared, because she invited you to and you couldn’t say no.

And there was something about the three of them, something weird that they seemed to have in common. When they’d reminisce over something that happened around the time Will went missing, and they would stop and look at you mid-sentence sometimes, and one of them would suddenly change the subject.

You were curious, of course, it was part of your nature to be exceedingly curious at all times.

But they all seemed to hate to talk about it, even if they brought it up from time to time, and you seemed to recognize that constantly haunted look of Jonathan in his friends’ faces as well, and the look wasn’t as cute anymore.

So you didn’t pry.

Somewhere between the end of May and the beginning of June, Nancy and Steve asked you and Jonathan to go out with them on a double date, as if reading your mind for what could possibly be your worst nightmare, but again you couldn’t say no.

You might have picked your best outfit, and you might have done your hair more carefully than you usually did, and you might have put on an extra ring or necklace. And your parents might have noticed, and you might have lied and said you were going to a colleague’s birthday party and not on a double date to the movies and a restaurant with your weird fake boyfriend and his weird preppy friends.

Jonathan picked you up at seven sharp in his old Ford and he didn’t seem much different than usual outfit-wise, but he was definitely using cologne.

“You look nice,” he said as you entered the car and you tried not to swoon at the crumbs of his attention.

“You smell nice,” you answered, and it pleased you enough to see that blush of his creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Steve and Nancy were already there waiting under the marquee. Jonathan parked and the two of you left the car and went on your way to meet the other couple. Nancy greeted you with a tight hug. You wanted to throw yourself into oncoming traffic just as much as you wanted to stay in the unusual embrace for a long time.

“This is where your boyfriend gave me a taste of his amazing right hook,” Steve said to you, pointing at the little alley by the theater.

“Steve!” Nancy reprimanded, but it seemed like she was holding back a smile.

“What was all that about, anyway?” you asked, giving into your curiosity, eager for the whole story now that you could finally have it.

You forgot that dating Jonathan should probably mean that you’d know what it was all about already. He would’ve told the person he was dating, right? Thankfully no one seemed to notice your little slip.

“Jonathan was a bit of a creep, I was a huge of an asshole and Nancy sadly got caught in between us,” Steve answered honestly. “We’re all good now, though, aren’t we? All in the past.” He smiled at the other two, who nodded along and smiled back.

Jonathan and Nancy’s smiles didn’t seem as sincere as Steve’s. And that didn’t feel like the actual whole story, but again you didn’t pry because they were getting that weird haunted look.

Steve threw his arm over Nancy’s shoulder. “Let’s get some popcorn, my treat,” he said and started walking into the theater. Jonathan touched your lower back, guiding you, and you held back a sigh.

You were in for a long evening.

Indiana Jones conquered the Temple Of Doom, or whatever. You didn’t pay much attention, it was hard to with Jonathan’s arm draped over your shoulder the whole time and the whispered little comments he would make with Nancy — instead of you — through the film.

You went to a restaurant after, Nancy’s choice, not too far from the theater so you all walked there. Hand in hand again. Nancy and Steve behind you, talking about the movie. Jonathan tried to rile up a conversation about it with you — finally — but, as you hadn’t paid much attention, you didn’t have a lot to say.

Food was good and thankfully the topic of conversation wasn’t the movie, because you couldn’t pretend to have paid attention to it in front of the three of them at the same time. Instead, you talked about your summer plans. Well, mostly Steve’s summer plans, he was going on vacation with his parents, somewhere on the East Coast, maybe Hawaii? Nancy was just going to see her grandma for a couple of weeks up in Chicago. Your parents weren’t fans of travels, and Jonathan was… well, the guy was poor. So Steve’s plans were the most thrilling ones.

“Too bad your parents won’t wanna travel, you could have the house to yourselves,” Steve said with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You laughed loudly — mostly nervously — and Jonathan blushed. It was your usual responses at this point.

“Sure, yeah,” you said, if only not to leave a weird silence up, before looking at your wristwatch. “They’re very strict anyway, and look at that! I gotta be home soon,” you continued, and Jonathan coughed to hide a laugh.

“We should ask for the check,” he said and raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention.

That weird conversation was over, finally, and you paid for the dinner individually. By the grace of gods Steve didn’t comment on Jonathan not paying for you, since he paid for his own girlfriend, but he sure eyed you curiously as you handed your money.

“This was so nice, we should do it more often!” Nancy commented on your way back to the cars, her arm intertwined with yours as Steve and Jonathan steered behind. “It feels nice to have a normal friend after-” she stopped herself and her eyes widened, and she gulped loudly and didn’t finish her sentence.

You remembered Barb Holland, and her great English essays and her amazing grades in History, and her suspicious disappearance near Will’s back in November. How she supposedly ran away from home. How she didn’t seem at all like the type to do that.

Nancy was looking guilty and haunted, that look the three of them shared, and your curiosity was turning into apprehension of knowing what had happened. She let go of your arm, and she never finished her sentence. The boys also went quiet behind you. There was a weighted tension on top of the four of you.

You reached Steve’s bimmer and he touched Nancy’s arm to lead her to the passenger side, and she was still in a kind of haze as she waved goodbye from the window. Steve seemed worried, and so did Jonathan, but none of them said anything. And neither did you.

Jonathan took you home, one of his hipster band’s tape on the sound system, the stars out brightly and the most awkward of silences between the two of you.

There was no one out in your street to see you as he parked in your driveway, but he kissed your cheek goodbye all the same. And you held him tightly in a hug, wanting to comfort him even though you had no idea what haunted him. Crippling curiosity equal to a crippling fear, wishing for the truth and wishing to never having to find out the truth.

-✧-

You had two final weeks of school before Summer and the great excuse of having to finish your essays and projects to hide in the library and not have to talk to the trio that confused you more and more every day.

But still, sometimes Nancy would stop by and study with you. Always helpful, and kind, and nice. You never talked about that night. Sometimes she’d bring Steve with her, and she’d tutor him and they didn’t bother you, and it felt good to have the company.

Sometimes Jonathan would stop by. He’d bring you lunch, he’d bring you books, he’d bring you comfort. The warmth of his presence was addictive, reminding you of late freshman year and the Science project you built together. And you dreaded the day this would all end, he’d forget about you with Nancy Wheeler in his arms, and you’d be nothing but an embarrassing and funny story to maybe tell their grandkids.

You were able to escape them one single day, to retake your final picture for that History collage, the one you used to replace Jonathan’s love portrait. As the class to present the projects came up, you shared a knowing look with him when you noticed he also replaced Nancy’s love portrait on his own collage. A secret between you, him, and little red lamp lights. A secret neither of you talked about. Those were starting to grow.

“How cute that you two have so much in common, you even chose the same format for your projects! I love collages,” one of your colleagues said to you after class was over.

Jonathan was waiting beside your table for you to gather your stuff, and you felt your knees weaken at the way he smiled from the compliment, none of that blush anymore, a pinch of almost confidence. You couldn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

“Mine doesn’t look as good, though,” he answered, pointing at your pictures as if he wasn’t the professional photographer, and you weren’t just someone with a hobby.

“You’re both adorable,” the colleague said before leaving, Jonathan thanked her all nonchalant as if used to it by now.

And you couldn’t come up with any words throughout the whole conversation, your throat constricted with the need to tell her to shut up and tell Jonathan how you felt for him, beg him to let you go. It wasn’t fun anymore.

He didn’t let you scurry away to the library, no more excuses to do so since the History project was the last one, and he held your hand through the hallways, and he held your bag for you, and he sat so close to you at the table bench, while Nancy ranted on about her Spanish essay, that you could feel the heat of his thigh pressed against yours, but his eyes never left Nancy’s as she spoke.

It felt as if there was an elephant at each of your shoulders, and you couldn’t stop staring at him, and he didn’t spare a single glance your way even as his arm was almost glued to yours with the heat and the sweat and the stickiness of early Summer. Your heart tight in your chest, beating fast and loud and strong against your ribcage, as if begging to be let out, to go rest on Jonathan’s hands where it belonged.

-✧-

Summer came, and you stayed home. Not many friends to go out with, not many party invitations in your mailbox, no one else to see on a day-to-day basis except your parents. They asked about Jonathan once, because they saw him picking you up and bringing you back on that double date you had with Nancy and Steve. You said he was probably traveling, that you weren’t so close, you didn’t know, and they knew better not to ask again.

It was August already, a whole long month of Summer break where you’d missed him every day, missed his sweet smile, the way his blush would start by his neck and go up until it reached his cheeks, missed his calm and soothing tone of voice, missed the way he’d smell of pancakes and mint shampoo in the mornings.

Didn’t miss the way he would look at her.

But you missed her too, though. You missed Nancy’s company, and her sweet smile and her calm and soothing tone of voice. You even missed Steve and the way he’d compare everything to a basketball game, and how he high-fived you when Nancy quizzed him on the library and he’d get an answer right. In the weirdest turn of events, they became your friends. And you missed your friends.

Your body seemed to know how your brain thought and your heart ached, because when your father asked you to get groceries, your feet automatically walked further than needed and took you to Melvald’s on Main instead of the market near your house.

And of course he was there.

You knew he’d be there. He told you (and Nancy, and Steve, during that double date) he’d be taking a summer job with his mom, was dreading the tasks already but he could use the money.

He was stocking, standing in the cereal aisle seeming a little confused about where to put the Honeycomb and the Fruit Loops. And that same natural daylight from the outside reached him and made his skin glow, and there were no dirty windows between you two as you reached him without even noticing you had been walking towards him.

“Hey,” you called out, and he turned to you and smiled weirdly wide.

“Hi. Long time no see. How’s your summer?” he asked, putting down the cereal boxes.

You shrugged. “Nothing exciting. How’s Melvald’s treating you?”

“It’s not so hard. Not a big place,” he shrugged as well, and he was still smiling and he was taller than you so the sunlight behind you was hitting his eyes just right and your heart thumped.

“You’ve seen Nancy?” you asked because you liked to suffer, you’ve come to know. “She’s back from Chicago already?”

“Oh, I think she is. Will went to Mike’s yesterday, but I haven’t seen her, no.”

“Don’t you want to?” you pressed, because you weren’t suffering enough, apparently. He shot you a comically puzzled look before shrugging and smiling again.

“I guess? No more than I wanted to see you, though. Or, like, Steve, for that matter,” he answered and you huffed.

“Sure. Anyway, where’s the pasta sauce in here?” you changed the subject and he pointed towards a specific place.

You started walking without saying anything further and, to your surprise, he followed you.

“What, you didn’t miss me back?” he was teasing you, and it would’ve thrilled you just a few months ago how close you got to each other, and you would’ve reveled in any kind of attention he’d paid to you, but you just wanted to scream because it wasn’t fun anymore. It was painful.

You didn’t answer, because you wanted to tell him the truth, and tell him that yeah, you’ve missed him so much it ached, you’ve missed him so much you cried yourself to sleep once, you missed him so much and you couldn’t have him, he wasn’t yours, but you were his even if he didn’t know. Even if his eyes were never focused on you as yours were focused on him.

“C’mon, don’t go breaking my heart,” he teased again and you stopped abruptly right in front of the tomato sauce stand.

“Jonathan, please don’t do this,” you asked, voice wavering, and his smile dropped instantly at the sound of it.

“I’m sorry. What is it?” he asked earnestly, really had no idea, and you didn’t have it in you to be patient enough to spell it out for him.

“How long do we have to keep this up for?” you pleaded, turning to look at him. Your heart ached, your eyes burned, how could he not see it? How could he not see you? “We can just call it off now, yeah? We haven’t seen them yet, don’t even know if Steve’s back already, we can just say it happened over summer when they weren’t here.”

“What are you talking about?” he pushed the knife in deeper, your hands were shaking, you were almost begging for him to look at you, to see right through you so you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

“Really, dude?” you asked loudly, saw his mom looking up from a magazine at the cashier counter to look at the two of you. “Our fake relationship thing? That amazing fucking plan of ours? It’s clearly not heading anywhere, Nancy and Steve are still together and she’s actually become my friend so it sucks to be in this position.” You gestured around you as if your mentioned friends would pop out of nowhere to your surprise. You were still loud, and you didn’t care. “Just do as I said that day, grow out some balls, and tell her the truth.”

Rich advice, coming from you.

Do as you say, don’t do as you do, or whatever.

You didn’t wait for an answer and forgot about the fucking sauce, and just started walking towards the store entrance so you could let all of this go and never have to deal with the ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ fiasco.

Joyce — Jonathan’s fucking mom, for Christ’s sake — called out to you as you stormed out of Melvald’s, you didn’t even know she knew your name, but you didn’t stop anyway. Not until there was a warm hand holding your arm, and you knew that hand by now, all its softness and its calluses, bends and curves and dents, and your heart was already broken but it somehow hurt and bled even more.

“Dude, please!” you begged again, and he was looking at you, searching for something in your eyes and yet he still couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see you.

“I’m sorry, what did I do? What can I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, I think, just leave me alone,” you answered, and he let go of you and he seemed hurt by your words.

You walked back to your house and apologized to your dad for not bringing back his groceries, and he didn’t ask why when he saw your wet eyes. He made you tea, patted you on the head and you cried yourself to sleep again.

-✧-

“A friend of yours is here,” your mom said as you left the shower, three whole days after your (fight? Was it a fight?) encounter with Jonathan. “Waiting in your room,” she said.

It should have confused you, made you wonder. But it didn’t. You knew it was him. Who else would it be?

It was Nancy Wheeler.

Sitting on your bed, and her hair was shorter and her cheeks were a darker shade of pink than they were when you last saw her on the last day of school before Summer break.

“Hi?” you said or asked, and she smiled when she saw you were there.

Got up and walked towards you and hugged you tightly, you missed that hug, and her freshly cut hair smelled of something floral.

She pulled you by your hand until you two were sitting in your bed, side by side.

“I broke up with Steve. Jonathan told me everything,” she said, and your tiny broken heart still had some strength in it to break even further, shockingly.

“Uh, good for you, I guess?” You shrugged, not sure what she wanted you to say. “When’s the wedding?” you clouded your pain with humor because, when didn’t you?

“I just said I broke up with Steve, what wedding?”

“Yours and Jonathan’s?” Why were they so difficult? Oblivious. Why did they enjoy torturing you?

“No, listen,” she called your name as if you weren’t paying attention. “Jonathan told me everything. The whole deal, the whole plan, the whole picture, everything.”

It was a funny déjà-vu. There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Nancy in front of you, staring at you with a weird misplaced smile, waiting for your answer — what did she want you to answer, honestly? — but she was kind of blurry. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer her.

“He. What.”

She giggled, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before she rolled her eyes with amusement.

“You two are so dense,” she said, still smiling. “I had to spell it out for him, and I kinda saw it coming, but not from you.”

“Nancy, for the love of all things holy, what are you talking about?” You held her hands in yours, and she looked at your hands held together for a second before looking into your eyes again to talk.

“You’re in love with him,” she answered, and you weren’t surprised that she knew.

“Fucking duh, he’s the only one who can’t see it.” She laughed, and her eyes twinkled.

“And he’s in love with you,” she completed, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“No, he’s not.”

“You’re the only one who can’t see it,” she threw back at you and you rolled your eyes at her wit — you loved it so much.

“Nancy, he likes you. Literally how we got here in the first place.” You gestured around you as if she could see how miserable you’ve been lately without him, and without your study sessions and your lunches together as a group. “If not to get with him, why did you break up with Steve?” you asked.

“There is… a lot that held us together. Not just Steve and me, but us and Jonathan as well. And I was just using Steve as a crutch, trying to pretend everything was fine and normal, but it isn’t, and it isn’t fair to either of us. And I noticed all that thanks to you being my friend.”

You remembered the date — again — and the way Nancy recoiled to herself at the end of it, and your friends’ collective haunted guilty look, and Will Byers and how he came back, and Barb Holland and how she did not.

“Jonathan came to my house to talk, we got a little lost in the middle of it all but he knocked some sense into me, and I like to think I’ve knocked some sense into him back,” she said, and she was still so calm and collected, but she felt lighter somehow, and she never stopped smiling sweetly at you. “You should go check.”

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

She convinced you to go talk to Jonathan, and at this point you trusted her so freely that you did just that. She convinced you to give him a chance, and you convinced yourself you were doing it because she asked you to, you were doing it for her and not for yourself or Jonathan. She was a very persuasive little lady, you’ve come to find out.

The street where the Byers lived was weird as fuck, and the forest surrounding it gave you the worst chills ever, but you kept your calm as you rode your bike all the way to the Byers’ front yard.

You knocked, and Jonathan answered. He seemed surprised to see you, and that blush of his creeped up from his neck to his cheeks and you fell for him again just then.

“Hi,” he said, still staring.

“Hi. Can we talk?” He shook his head, came back to himself, and opened the door to let you in. “Where’s your family?”

“Mom’s still at Melvald’s, Will’s at Mike’s,” he answered, and started going down the hallway, so you followed him.

His room looked, felt and smelled like him and it was both comforting and distressing to be surrounded by Jonathan in all senses. You were still scared of how this conversation would go.

He went digging through some stuff in his desk, and when he found it he walked closer to you where you were still standing awkwardly by the door. He handed you something, a picture.

“You called it ‘Nancy Wheeler love portrait’, that day at the train station park,” he said while you observed again Nancy’s profile in the photo. You had it memorized at this point, burned to the back of your eyelids. “It really was,” he continued and you shot him a puzzled look. “It was a love portrait, it was love I guess.”

He shrugged, and only then you noticed he was holding something behind his back. He moved his hand, brought it forward and you saw that it was another picture but you couldn’t see what it was about. He smiled down adoringly at it before handing it to you.

It was you.

A photo taken of your profile. You were sitting at a desk at the school library, in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing you in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust flying around you and a big smile on your lips as you looked down at your hands resting on top of the table.

It was so similar. It was the same angle, the same lightning, the same pose. And yet it was so different from the Nancy Wheeler love portrait.

“Your own love portrait,” Jonathan said, voice almost a whisper, and you wanted to look at him and check if he was blushing the way his voice made it seem like he was, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the photo. “Steve and Nancy are out of frame, you were laughing at something he just said, so relaxed and happy around our friends you didn’t even notice me taking the picture like a weirdo.”

He softly touched your hand that was holding the picture, just the tips of his fingers, and they were enough to ignite a spark that made your whole body burn. You stared at that contact of your skins for the very few seconds they lasted before Jonathan pulled his arm back and continued talking.

“I got a little lost in the middle of it all, I think. Forgot there was a plan. Forgot why it all began. Forgot about Nancy, and all I could think about was you. How I wanted to see you again day after day, and hold your hand through the hallways on our way to lunch, and sit beside you at the cafeteria table. And take you on dates without Steve’s stupid comments, just you and me, and you’d laugh at my jokes ‘cause you always do. And to take more pictures of you. Take pictures with you. Just, do stuff together. All the time.

And I was so scared that you’d notice that change in me, notice how far gone for you I was. I didn’t want to spend time apart but I also couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you so bad. I’d be glued to you at all times, hurt from wanting you so much, and yet I couldn’t let you go. Didn’t want to ask you to let me go.”

You finally looked at him and, yes, he was blushing. But he was so determined, so confident. You decided you loved it.

“Me and Nancy, we… got a past. Not even romantic, but, we’ve been through a lot and I’ll tell you all about it, but. I think you’ve always been there, ever since that Science project freshman year, you’ve been there on the sidelines, and when we started talking again because of our stupid plan, I realized how much I’ve missed you. And I didn’t care about the plan anymore, and I didn’t want it to end because I just wanted it to be real.”

It was unbelievable how much you recognized those words, as if you were saying them yourself. You couldn’t help but smile, and Jonathan smiled back at you, and you wanted to kiss his smile senseless.

So you did just that.

You held the pictures far from your bodies, because you didn’t want to damage them, and you threw your other arm around his neck. He hugged your waist close to him and you kissed his smile, and he kissed your smile back. He tasted of pancakes and maple syrup and coffee with cream no sugar, and you feasted on that meal as if it was your last. You let your fingers wander through his hair, and it was soft and it smelled of mint shampoo, and your senses were overwhelmed, surrounded by Jonathan in all senses and it felt like dying and going to heaven.

You kissed for a long time before your lungs ran out of air, and your lips separated but your foreheads were still touching. You handed the pictures back to Jonathan, and he took them with a confused expression. You fished something out of your back pocket, your wallet, and you fished something out of your wallet, a picture. You handed that to him too.

“Jonathan Byers love portrait,” you both said at the same time and laughed together.

You kept your picture of him and he kept your picture of you, and you held onto his face that was still blushing and warm and soft, and he kissed you for a long time. And the plan didn’t work out, not really, but it kinda did, and it was all Nancy Wheeler’s fault.

[will80sbyers]

I don't know. I feel like you lost your hope that byler will be endgame in season 5? I feel like you lost your natural joy in general. I can feel that in the way you write your tells. You seem less dynamic,less happy to be here. It's not a criticism at all, just something I've personally noticed so I wondered if you are doing okay rn.

I'm sorry that I've not been as joyful :(

I'm still sick and don't have much energy these days so it could be part of that too, but yeah I'm not as confident in byler as I was after all of these news, the revelations about the play made me lose hope in a good storyline in general because if they don't care even about the supernatural story why would they make a good story for the characters and not one that can "shock" the audiences and that's it

Do they really care about the details of the story if they change big things this easily just for convenience? Was all the foreshadowing we found just a coincidence or are we misreading things? Maybe they think putting it only because Will is in love with Mike is a good idea even if they don't plan on making them endgame?

Maybe the rainbows were all because of this rainbow operation ship thing of the play and not much about the gay coding? I don't even know anymore.

Do they even care about the themes they presented previously after seeing that they don't even stand up for the innocent Palestinians and don't recognize a state that's acting as an oppressor in the real world? That's also what I'm asking myself about them as a team of writers and as people

I know they don't have to say things but they did for other occasions... that whole speech David made was just a spectacle and not the principles of the people involved in the show?

I loved this show because it seemed like they wanted to convey a message that they aren't upholding outside of it now so why would they uphold it in the finale of the show

and in general outside of stranger things the situation around the world is fucked up and I've been sad for that too, watching the graphic videos I've seen this month impacted me, watching people I care about not care at all also impacted my view of them and it feels lonely irl like I don't have friends because we are too different in basic values, and I was already depressed for other things in my life outside of all of this going back to Italy to my old life was depressing, having to live with my parents again makes me in a bad mood every single day because of how they talk to me

Also the whole fandom seems dead anyway, people have decided to leave stranger things because of what the actors and Ross did (which is completely valid) so there isn't even much to interact with in my dash at least

I'm sorry that I can't find a way to be more happy but it's just not a good period at all for me... I hope to find back my passion for the show and the fandom when they start filming, I'm just really afraid that my favourite character will be mistreated again in the end and I'm not sure about what they think will be a good "happy" ending at the moment

In general I think that even starting from a place where I didn't expect too much from them I may have highly overestimated their writing and maybe the redditors are right and stranger things will end up being that type of shitty (imo) story "the 80s nostalgia straight show" that they want