#humour veggie

[jhoumous-fr]

"Je suis un prédateur"

[jhoumous]

Carnist reactions

[misforgotten2]

Corn, lima beans, cauliflower, and . . . God only knows. This cookbook doesn’t tell. Are the tiny beets? Pickled chicken hearts?  Alien gonads?

250 Ways to Serve Fresh Vegetables - Ways to Prepare recipe pamphlet #8   1954

[jusuchyne]

Plant-based Burger.

Design is available on Redbubble - https://rdbl.co/3x2pGFe.

[adnauseum11]

Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse. 

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry. 

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features. 

“Good to know you want me around, darling.” 

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown. 

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat. 

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards. 

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat. 

“Fuckin’ hell love” 

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body. 

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face. 

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm. 

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling. 

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left. 

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh. 

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Take Me Home Tonight

Summary: You run into a familiar face while working. (Bucky Barnes)

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, fingering, dry humping, flirting.

Note: look, we didn't expect Applebee's to inspire one fic, but now it's done two fics. Shit. We are deranged.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Please also reblog because it’s a lot longer than I intended.

You hug the menus to your chest as you approach the booth of four newly sat in your section. As you do, you stutter step, unsure if your eyes are seeing clearly. You know that hair, the subtle wave of brown with strands of silver woven in. You step up and give a smile to the men.

“Good evening,” you place a menu in front of each of them; the burly blonde comedically crowded into the corner beside the man with dark hair and darker eyes, the blonde you vaguely recognise from his acquaintance with the most familiar face at the table, “Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, hi,” he sits up and sets the drink menu back at the centre of the table, “uh,” he gives you a peculiar look, “I thought you worked down at the Denny’s.”

“Used to. Just got hired here,” you chime, “uh, so, are you all ready to go with your drink orders?”

“You mind?” The blond with the short hair nudges him.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m still thinking,” he sits back.

“Heineken,” the man orders with a tweak of his eyebrow.

“Seems you don’t carry Hansa so I’ll have a jolly rancher cocktail,” the big blond intones. You almost laugh, thinking of him with the bright blue drink with a gummy worm for garnish.

“Shirley Temple for me,” the other says, “designated driver.”

“Oh, of course,” you note each order in your head, “and you, Mr. Barnes?”

“Mr. Barnes,” the man across from him goads.

“Bucky,” Mr. Barnes corrects you, “uh, I’ll take a Corona.”

“Alright, Heineken, jolly rancher, Shirley Temple, Corona,” you list off, “I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your order.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, doll,” the blonde at his shoulder winks. You don’t miss the elbow he receives from his seat partner.

You go to the bar and put in the order. You do a round to check in on your other tables, grabbing a few napkins at request and clearing plates. When the drinks are set out neatly on a tray, you carry them to the booth and dole them out.

“So, are we starting with an appetizer?” You ask.

“We’ll do some nachos,” the man across from Bucky says, “thanks, sweetie.”

“Beef, chicken, or veggie?”

“Chicken,” he answers.

“Hey, I know you,” the blond drapes his arm over the side of the booth, “you’re the neighbour girl.”

“Steve,” Bucky reproaches under his breath.

“What? It was killing me. I just couldn’t place the face.”

Bucky utters your name, almost reluctant to do so, “I’m just out with buddies,” he explains, “buncha old men catching up;” he jabs his thumb towards the man beside him, “Steve, Thor,” he points to the other blonde then to the man across from him, “Sam.”

“Sounds like fun,” you chirp, “well, I’ll go get those nachos. Are we planning on entrees?”

“We’ll just share the chips,” Bucky assures.

Sam leans back and pats his chest, “heartburn.”

You humour him with a smile and nod before spinning away. You flit off and head for the kitchen. It’s strange seeing Mr. Barnes– Bucky outside the neighbourhood. He’s always just been next door. Odder even seeing him without his family. Well, you guess he deserves the break. Every time you see him, he’s on his way somewhere.

🍻

The night wears on. Your shifts always pass quickly as you’re kept afoot by patrons and managers alike. Several times you find yourself visiting Bucky’s table to top up drinks and they grow rowdy as the game comes on the big screen. 

You’re almost amused as you’ve never seen your neighbour like this. He’s always so stern and standoffish. A small wave as he mows the lawn or a ‘morning’ as you pass by him unlocking his car. Even your father claimed he was the most serious man he’d ever met.

“Sweetheart,” Sam smiles at you as clear the empties, “can we get our check? I gotta get them out of here before they break something.”

“Sure thing,” you say as you stack the tray with bottles and glasses, “separate or together?”

“Together. I’ll have to chase them down for the difference,” Sam answers.

As you take the clear Corona bottle from in front of Bucky, he rests his chin in his hand and watches you. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks round even more. He’s definitely drunk.

“Hi,” he babbles.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” you return.

“I told you, it’s Bucky,” he grins.

“Bucky,” you repeat, “you want some water?”

He sits up and drags his elbow off the table, “I guess I should…”

“For all of them,” Sam says from your other side, “please.”

“Alright, check and waters.”

You almost click your heels before you sweep off on your mission. It’s almost closing time and the place is sparse. A few stragglers along the bar but no more hectic families of screaming toddlers breaking crayons and tossing napkins.

You go to the till and print out the bill and grab a handheld from the charger. You place both on your cleared tray and fill three glasses of water. You carry them back to your last table and gently set the condensating drinks before each diner. Sam takes the bill as he holds his card between two fingers.

“You go to school?” Steve’s voice startles you before you can summon small talk.

“Uh, yeah, second year,” you answer him.

“I thought so,” he says, “college girls…”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky grumbles, putting his hand up to block out Steve, “ignore him. He’s trashed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve swats his hand down and receives a swipe back. 

The men slap at each others’ hands as Thor stands and leans over, his size deterring the men as he shoves their arms apart, “enough. Or I’ll drag you out like stray cats.”

You try not to show your discomfort as Sam hands you back the machine and it loudly prints his receipt. You offer him a copy but he insists you go and enjoy your night. You bid them all the same and set off to clear the last of your tables.

Your coworkers start their own closing tasks and the music turns off as closing time hits. You glance up, everyone’s gone. You go back to the booth and gather up the mostly untouched glasses of water and wipe it down. With your tables done, you turn in your apron and go to get your cut of the tips. Your tally comes up higher than you expect thanks to the table of middle-aged men.

You head out the back door and round to the front of the shining marquee. You’ll uber home since your mom is out of town. As you step up on the little pavement lip in front of the restaurant, a figure stands from their perch on the ground. You don’t recognise Bucky until he says your name.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask as you lower your phone.

“Ah, well, me and Steve…” he rubs his neck and chuckles, “I’m waiting on a cab but none have passed by.” He shrugs, “plus, I figured we’re headed in the same direction…”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” you say, “I was just ordering an uber. Kinda don’t like taking them alone so late at night anyway.”

“Great,” he slurs, “uh, sorry about tonight. My friends are… a lot.”

“It’s fine, you were having a good time,” you select a ride and black out your phone. “Just make sure you drink lots of water.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “you’re so nice… I’ll be fine, you know? I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just… I hate hangovers.”

“Oh? Didn’t take you for a drinker?”

“Well, don’t tell mom but once in a while.”

“My lips are sealed,” he surprises you as he reaches to squeeze your shoulder. “And I’ve never broken a promise to a pretty girl.”

You want to laugh. He’s tipsy and it’s kind of cute. The glare of headlights flash over you and he drops his arm away from you. The uber approaches and you check the plate, pointing Bucky in ahead of you. 

He sidles over the seat and yawns as you climb in next to him. The driver confirms your destination as you let yourself relax against the seat. The tension of your shift slowly drifts away.

Bucky slowly slides until he’s leaning against you, “I’ll pay you back for the ride,” he grumbles as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

The tension seeps back into you but you try not to overthink it. He’s just your neighbour, a friendly neighbourhood dad, a bit discombobulated from his night out. He probably doesn’t get many of those.

“Been a long time since I went home with a girl like you,” he chuckles.

You laugh, a nervous tickle in your throat as his weight bears down on you. You can smell a hint of citrus from his hair. Hopefully he’ll forget this all by the morning.

You’re quiet as the driver continues on. By the time you get to your street, you’re sure Bucky’s fallen asleep. You’re worried about getting him back to his place. As you get close to your house, you point the driver to the house right beside your own. That’ll be easier.

To your surprise, Bucky sits up and lets out a sleepy grumble. You thank the driver as your neighbour grabs onto your hand and tugs you towards his side as he opens the door. You let him and he clings to you as the uber leaves you in the shadow of the Barnes’ abode.

“Let’s go to bed,” he pulls you towards the walkway.

“Bucky,” you utter, “uh, Mr. Barnes?”

Is he that drunk? He must not realise you’re not his wife. You look around. You don’t see her car. That explains his little boys’ night. She’s probably visiting family again so he’s all alone.

“Hey,” you laugh unevenly as he drags you up onto the porch. He’s very strong. “Mr. Barnes, it’s me.”

He stops and sways. He squints at you and feels his pockets, jangling his keys through the fabric. He steadies himself and grins. His eyes hold yours, drowning you in pools of oceanic blue.

“I know,” he says soberly, “it’s you.”

You stare at him in confusion, blinking as he slides his hand into his pocket. You glance over your shoulder at the dark siding of your parents’ house. You face him again as he pulls his keys out but drops them between his shoes. You put your phone in your purse and shift the bag to rest on your hip.

“I should– oop,” you look down, “Mr. Barnes,” you bends to grab the keys, “alright, I’ll just get you inside and head home.” You stand up and hold up his keys, “which one?”

He points to the square gold one and you shove it into the slot. You push the door inward and gesture him ahead of you. He shuffles over the threshold, tripping before barely catching himself on the frame. You follow him in and look around cautiously. You’ve never been inside.

“Let’s get you to the couch, Mr. Barnes,” you grab his arm as he wobbles, “you just need to sleep this off–”

You tug on his arm but he doesn’t budge. Once more, all unsteadiness fades and he’s suddenly immovably still. He turns his head slowly and puts his hand over yours.

“I told you,” he faces you as he guides your hand up his arm, “it’s Bucky.”

“Um, alright, uh–”

He backs you up and you collide with the door, the impact forcing it shut. You gulp and press yourself against the inside as he pens you in, clutching your hand to his shoulder. The beer on his breath mingles with the citrusy scent that cloys from him.

“Mr. Barnes, what–”

“Shhh,” his hand slips from your and he grips your chin, “it’s okay–”

“St–”

He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re too stunned to do more than flatten yourself against the door. His grip makes your jaw ache as his other hand crawls up your thigh. You squirm and push against his shoulder with a whine.

He doesn’t relent. He pushes his foot between yours, edging them apart as he picks your fly open. You curl your fingers, jabbing your nails into him. He growls but doesn’t stop.

You turn your head, forcing your mouth away from his.

“Mr. Barnes… Bucky, please–”

He hushes you again as his hand falls from chin to throat. He squeezes, crushing out any hope of screaming for help. He nuzzles into the side of your neck, his nose tickling the line of your jaw. You whimper as his hand delves beneath the cotton of your panties.

His fingertips brush along your trimmed vee of hair and he swirls the short curls with a purr. He extends his middle finger, feeling along your folds and dipping between. He flicks his finger back and forth, exploring you until he finds your clit. He rolls his finger, stoking a heat beneath his touch.

You wriggle and trail your hand down his arm, gripping his wrist as you fight him. You’re too weak. You croak through your tight throat as you try to fight the swirling tide building with the friction of his roughened fingertip. This can’t be happening.

He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not like this.

A million thoughts race with as many sensations. You stand on your toes as your muscles knots and the tension coils in your core. You shouldn’t feel like this. This is wrong. This isn’t real. Your eyes roll back and you hide behind your eyelids.

His finger glides as you slicken against him. He quickens his pace, toying with you as he breathes against your neck, puffing damply as his hand remains firm on you. He keeps you pinned as he goads your body on, fueling a fire you’ve never lit before.

You squeak as you twitch without permission. You succumb to the brewing storm, blown away in the whirlwind as your mind is stifled by your body. You gulp and gasp, your hand slipping down to his chest as your other falls away from his arm.

“You’re so sexy,” he purrs as he lets you go.

You brace yourself against the door, breathless and paralysed as you watch him raise his hand. He presses his fingertips to his mouth and you see the glisten on them. He pushes them inside and sucks them clean with a growl.

“And so sweet, baby,” he steps forward, crowding you again.

The afterglow has you helpless. He feels along your side as his other hand wanders down your leg. He pulls your knee up and brings himself flush to you. He bends his knees as he presses his crotch into yours. You murmur at the hot weight between you. 

He curls his arm around your neck and your head lolls back. He bows to kiss you, devouring you as he slowly rocks his hip. A fiery heat builds between the layers of fabric, the friction of your seam rubs you through the damp cotton of your panties.

He gasps into your mouth as his pace quickens. The door shifts and squeaks with his motion as he pounds you into it, hips pumping as his bulge pokes through his jeans rigidly. Your head droops to the side and his wet lips smear over your cheek. He bites into your ear lobe and snarls.

Another tickle flares and you moan. A small burst that has you just as senseless. Your delight leaks onto your panties, spreading to the edges.

“Mmmmm,” he hums and releases the pinch of his bite, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me go– right in my–” he chokes as his fingertips sink into the bottom of your thigh and he pulls your leg higher, “jeans–”

He shakes and lets out a long rattle, sprinkled with deep groans and soft mewls. He leans into you completely and shudders, stilling at last. He sinks down with you, bringing you to straddle him as his knees meet the floor.

You heave and lift your head, gaping at him as his eyelids droop sleepily. He smiles, the expression crinkling around his eyes. He leans in and kisses you again, nibbling on your lower lip before pulling away.

“I won’t tell your mom about that either, kitten.”

[fayes-fics]

6. A: Friends+ - Friends & Family

For uhhhh no particular reason and nothing at all to do with anyone particular person nope 😇

Hi lovely!

Bwhaha. Well, apologies for being a few days late on this, but as both you and the wonderful @colettebronte asked for Friends & Family... I wrote ten or so sentences.

This is what I hope is a sweet, fun humour scene during this fic. It may vary a little from the final version I post, as this is the first draft.

___

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??” 

There is an undignified yelp, and your spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full name business all about?” he spins around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears….

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with some old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots and pans on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the completely wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface not unused or covered in some sticky looking residue from god knows what.

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out, I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression that is his perennial get out of jail free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile seeking forgiveness toying with the corners of his mouth.

“You are lucky you are so damn handsome,” you sigh, letting him pull you into his arms as he breaks into the full charming grin and drops a kiss on the tip of your nose.

____

Thanks for your ask, lovely 😁🧡🧡

[e-mmygrey]

History Must Repeat Itself - Chapter 10

Author's note: Season 3 is peak Steve Harrington humour and I'm always here for it. Robin Buckley lives in a special place in my heart and I'm sure all of yours. She better be safe in season 5 lol

Maya Hawke is such a beautiful human - I've seen her in concert and MAGICAL. Anyways, enjoy. lol

5.9k words

---

The Start of Summer 1985

          The school year ended a few days ago, meaning all seven kids were headed to high school in the fall. Steve and Billy graduated. No more Hawkins education for them. The rest of us high schoolers were going into senior year. That thought made me feel old and I was grateful for two months to prepare myself for it.

A huge party was being thrown to celebrate the outgoing seniors tomorrow. One last shebang. But for the incoming freshmen, none of the parents were arranging anything. And as the big sister for one of them, that made it my job. Well, for my sister and her friends at least. For the last week, I'd been planning a party in secret. All of the kids' parents were called and they were prepared (and a little excited) to throw their kids out of the house at 11:30 on Saturday morning.

Of course, the party wasn't happening at my house. The kids had proven they could demolish any cleanliness I had too easily and there wasn't a pool in my backyard. Who had a pool and a giant house with a kitchen that seven kids could fit in?

"I can't believe you convinced me to let you do this here," Steve grumbled, lugging in the groceries we'd just bought.

"As if they're not going to be here all summer," I reminded him, putting the three tubs of ice cream into the freezer.

"Ah, but you forget, my dear Jess, Starcourt Mall is a bus ride away. It's new and shiny with a plethora of greasy food. Little old me only has a pool and a big tv."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, but you're Steve Harrington. Those children are absolutely in love with you and they're going to get bored of the same stores over and over again that they can't afford." I placed the pre-cut fruit into the fridge. "Well, except for Scoops Ahoy, of course. I plan on bringing Madison there every day."

I began opening the toppings for the ice cream sundaes, when I felt Steve step up beside me. I glanced at him, before pouring chocolate chips into a small container.

"Every day? Really? Wow. You gonna miss having me so accessible, you're going to come visit every day?"

"I could be visiting Robin. Madison does really love Robin," I pointed out, scrunching my nose.

Steve leaned closer, his breath against my ears. "I'm sure we could find a use for the ice cream if you were coming to visit me instead."

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, ignoring the heat burning my face. "Steve Harrington, are you hitting on me?"

He reached behind me and I felt him tug on the end of my bandana. "Jess Connors -"

His words were cut off by the sound of a door opening. His eyebrows connected, stepping into the hallway with a direct view to the front door. I glanced over as I put the veggies tray into the fridge to see Steve's back straighten and his expression drop.

"Mum. Dad. I didn't realize you'd be coming home today."

He disappeared down the hallway. The tenor of his father's voice floated down the hall and a wave of anxiety rolled through me. I'd never met Steve's parents. I don't know how many of his friends had. 

Footsteps thudded down towards me. Anxiety bubbling, I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing an old pair of denim jeans that I'd hacked the legs off. My shirt was an absolutely huge Iron Maiden shirt I found at a thrift store outside of town. It was originally going to be a gift for Eddie but never made it to him. It was my style and covered anything that could be scandalous but I had a feeling it wasn't their look. As Steve rounded the corner with an apologetic look on his face, I reached my hand back to adjust the bun I'd created at the base of my skull.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed as his parents entered behind him.

"This is Jess Connors," Steve introduced, standing next to me. "Jess, these are my parents."

I rubbed my palms against my shirt, the anxiety crashing. I rounded the island and held my hand out to his mother.

"Mrs. Harrington, nice to meet you." She shook my hand with a hint of a surprised on her face before I moved to his father. "Mr. Harrington."

Stepping back, I hid behind Steve slightly. I slid my hands into the front pockets of my shorts. I could see where Steve got his good looks from. Once upon a time, his father was handsome. I don't know if it was work or being a miserable person but something in his life had begun scrubbing it away. His mother, with well manicured blonde hair and lack of wrinkles for having an eighteen year old son, definitely kept herself looking young. She was ridiculously pretty too.

"What's happening here? Have we burst in on your party plans?" Mrs. Harrington asked. She tried sounding light and humoured, but I could read the judgement in her eyes.

"We're having a pool party for the graduating middle schoolers," Steve said as I started going back to the chip bags. I needed to make myself busy because his parents made me want to throw up with anxiety. I don't know the last time I felt this way around adults.

His father chuckled condescending. "Middle schoolers? Really, Steve? You've lost that many friends since you quit the basketball team, you're holding a party for children?"

I paused, peering at Mr. Harrington. His look was predatory towards his son. It was a look I'd seen on Billy's face when he'd locked on a target. The nausea left my stomach and defensive anger replaced it. Steve hesitantly opened his mouth to answer his father, but I beat him to it.

"Actually, Mr. Harrington, my sister is in that graduating class. Since your son is so great, he's letting me host it here. And all the kids love Steve so much, it's mixed with a graduation celebration for him too. Because since you know, he graduated high school."

My tone was snippy, I knew that. The Harrington family was all looking at me. Steve had a hint of a smile on his face, grateful for my words. His mother's face was neutral, but his father was annoyed. I met his father's stare for a minute, before turning to Steve.

"I'm going to start grabbing the soda from my trunk. Can you do water balloons and paint balloons? The kids will be here." I glanced at my watch. "Hopefully in half an hour."

I smiled at him, placing my hand on his back as I passed his parents. I didn't give them a look.

"And is she going to college in September?" Steve's father ask as I got to the front door.

"No, she's going into her senior year."

"So, like I said. No friends your own age."

I walked out the front door without shoes on. I couldn't listen to the rest of the conversation. Steve told me a couple times that his parents were a lot. They had to be if they left their son alone more than they saw him. He told me they'd started leaving him in the house by himself for longer than a night in the sixth grade. I almost didn't want to believe him, but now? There was no doubt.

I grabbed two cases of regular Coke, much to Lucas' impending dismay. None of us understood how he could so happily drink the new crap. I tucked one under my arm and grabbed the smaller case of Diet Coke for Robin and me.

"Whoa, whoa, watch how much you're grabbing there." Steve grabbed the case from under my arm. He grabbed the case of Sprite with ease. As Steve closed the trunk, I watched him. He peeked at me, before wrapping his hand tighter around the case.

"What?"

I tilted my head, staring at the small details of his face. I'd only known Steve for nine months, but especially after the night of the Snow Ball dance, we spent a lot of time together. I could read him a lot easier.

His cheeks began to heat. "Jess, if you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to drop these cases and kiss you." He smirked. "So tell me why you're staring."

I ignored his flirty comment, as I often did.

"I'm really proud of you, Steve Harrington. You're amazing. You need to know that," I said, walking back towards his house with the cases of pop. Thankfully, Steve had left the door ajar and I could just push it open.

"That girl must be a really great lay because Steve is throwing away a perfectly good day he could be working," was the first thing I heard as I walked into the house. I purposefully made my footsteps hit the ground harder. His parents stopped talking as I entered into the kitchen. I gave them a polite smile, dropping the cases onto the island.

"So, Jess. Steven says you're going into your senior year. What are your plans for afterwards?"

I stuck my tongue between my back teeth as I put the cans into the fridge. The principal didn't even call him Steven during graduation. I returned my expression to a neutral one as I faced his parents again.

"I won't be attending college for a few years," I told them as Steve came in. "My mother works in Indianapolis full time and I take care of my sister. I don't plan on letting her leave Hawkins High until she graduates. I'll be working until she's done."

"That's very nice of you," Steve's mother said, her hands clasping together. I could see in her eyes that she genuinely meant it.

I shrugged absentmindedly. "My mother moved us around a lot. I'd like the idea of my sister not having to change schools midway through high school like I did."

"What school did you go to before?"

I glanced at Steve. He indicated towards the backyard with his head and I nodded. I didn't like that he was leaving me alone with his parents, but we had to finish getting ready. I wasn't letting them throw our day off. I turned back to his parents as I started opening the chip bags. They both stood at the end of the island. His father had removed his jacket and tossed it onto the counter, his arms now crossed. Neither of them were going to help.

"We lived in Seattle before coming here. I've lived in eight states and gone to nine schools now."

I pulled out the metal bowls from under the counter. Mrs. Harrington seemed surprised I knew where it was. It dawned on me that I'd been inside their house more than they had in the last few months. I couldn't even remember the last time Steve told me his parents were home.

"You're a very travelled individual. Much more than Steven," his father said. "Where do you want to go to college?"

I cleared my throat. "I've changed my mind quite a few times over the years. Washington State would be nice, but so would any college in New York. It just depends on what the money situation is."

Through the sliding screen door, Steve swore after a short rush of water. I smiled to myself, grabbing a couple bowls.

"Excuse me," I said, walking out of the house. Honestly, it didn't matter if his parents had tried continuing the conversation. I wasn't giving them any semblance of control.

"Well now I know why she's with Steven if that's her situation," his father said, not even waiting until I was out of view. I wanted to drop the bowls and punch his father in the face. Steve didn't deserve parents like this.

Laughter bubbled out as I caught sight of Steve sitting on the ground, pants covered in water. I put the chips on their designated table before walking over to him. Steve looked up at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Can I just fill the paint balloons? The kids can fill these up if they want."

I bent in half and kissed his head. "Yes, Steve. We'll just toss them in the pool." I ruffled his hair. "The kids I mean."

Steve chuckled. He grabbed my hand as I started walking away. He tugged on my fingers and I crouched beside him.

"I'm sorry my parents are here. They're leaving soon. They said they've got lunch at the country club with some friends and going to Indianapolis in the morning."

I ran my hands through his hair, pushing it back into its natural position. I tilted my head, smiling at him.

"You can stay with me while they're here if you want. Madison would love it, especially if you bring ice cream home."

The door slid open beside us, and through the corner of my eye, his father stepped out. Without warning, I leaned forwards and placed my lips against Steve's. I moved my hand through the rest of his hair, resting it on his jaw. Steve kissed back almost immediately, his hand tightening around mine. I moved my head away from Steve.

"You deserve the world, Steve Harrington," I whispered, standing up.

"Steven," his father said in a sharp tone. We both turned. "Your mother and I are getting changed then leaving. We will see you tonight."

His father disappeared without another word. I looked at Steve, raising my eyebrows. He shrugged and got back to the balloons.

"I'm going to grab your radio and cassettes, okay?" I said, walking backwards to the door. "And I have presents in my car that I want to grab."

Steve's head snapped up. "Were we supposed to get gifts?"

I smiled at his panic. "No, you didn't. I just bought two and then realized I couldn't leave everyone else without one."

Steve exhaled, relieved he hadn't messed up. I sent him a wink and walked inside the house. Heading for the front door, I grabbed my keys off its unofficial hook. All eight presents were wrapped and held in two fabric bags. I knew I needed to hide them in the kitchen because if the kids (and Steve) found out presents were for them, I wouldn't hear the end of it and the house would be destroyed much faster.

          Walking back into the house, I came face to face with Mr. Harrington. He stepped to the side, indicating for me to walk by. I gave him an awkward smile of thanks, going towards the back of the house.

"Oh, Jessica?"

I paused, turning on my heels. "Uh, it's Jess actually. Legally."

"Well, Jess then. I'd like to say you seem to be a good influence on Steven. It's what he needs if he's going to go anywhere since he barely scraped by graduating."

"Your son is very intelligent and a good human being," I said. "I'm very proud to be around him to see where he'll go."

Mr. Harrington slid a hand into his slack's pocket. "Steven needs to be pushed, much more than you think he does. Don't let whatever charm and cleverness he thinks he has fool you."

I bit down on my lower lip, considering my next words but Steve's father chose what direction they would go in.

"Don't let him get you pregnant without marriage and a prenup. He'll take whatever he can from you and suck your talents dry."

I took a deep breath. "Mr. Harrington, I wouldn't imagine insulting you in your own home. So." I put down the two bags I was holding and opened the front door.

I took a step over the threshold and turned back to the man. "Like I said before, Steve," I enunciated how he preferred his name being said. "Is a beautiful, good hearted, smart and kind human being. Whatever you twisted him into thinking he should be when he started high school isn't who he is anymore. Steve knows how to take care of the people he loves and he does it selflessly, which he obviously didn't learn from you. I have watched Steve help my sister do her homework for hours and through levels of frustration." Mrs. Harrington appeared from the base of the stairs. "My sister didn't give up because your son has patience and understanding. So no, Steve didn't do well in high school but he graduated and you should be proud of him for that. I know I am. And you know what? If Steve did knock me up, which he wouldn't because he's responsible, I would be thankful to spend at least eighteen more years attached to him. Somehow you raised a gentleman, and honestly I don't know how."

I released a huff of breath and stepped back into the house. "So that's what I have to say even though you probably didn't take any of it to heart." I walked past Steve's parents and picked up the present bags. "I hope you have a good lunch. It's supposed to be a beautiful day."

As I walked the rest of the way towards the kitchen, I was sure I'd throw up. I couldn't believe I said that to his parents. I'm surprised they didn't throw me out right there. I dropped the bags onto the island, planting my hands on the edge and took another deep breath. Holy shit.

The front door slammed shut and I sighed, turning to open the cupboard beside the fridge. I gasped, jumping at the unexpected person standing behind me silently. Steve leaned against the fridge door, hugging himself. His eyes met mine, and my heart broke at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Oh, Steve," I whispered, wrapping my arm around his neck tugging him close. A soft sob rattled through him as his arms tightened around my waist. My hand ran through his hair, letting him feel his emotions freely. I didn't want to think about the last time his parents made him cry.

           A rumbling approached outside the house and I knew it was Jonathan's ancient car, likely with Nancy's right behind. I moved my hands up to hold his jaw to see his face. His hands adjusted to grip my hips. The tears disappeared when I wiped them away.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked in a quiet voice.

Steve nodded, sniffling. I ran my hands through his hair. It had become a comforting technique for both of us.

The back gate creaked open and a storm of voices entered the backyard. Time to get this party started.

"Will you go grab your radio and cassettes?"

He nodded again, his shoulders shuttering with a sigh too. He placed a kiss on my head before I walked out into the backyard. Seeing everyone outside, I waved and held up a finger. Standing at the back door, I watched Steve go up the stairs.

"Okay, hang it up," I whisper-yelled. Nancy and Jonathan ran over to the 'Happy Middle School Graduation!' sign I'd made for the kids. They attached a '& High School Graduation, Steve!' sign too. I made it yesterday and dropped it off at Nancy's. 

Madison ran a graduation cap and gown we'd bought second hand and decorated with gold glitter, over to me. I held the cap and she had the gown open. We stood on either side of the door, listening to Steve come down the hallway. He could see the kids standing in a clump, looking through the screen door. It wasn't natural, but I really couldn't expect subtly from fourteen year olds.

"What the hell are -" Steve asked, stepping through the doorway. I stuck the cap on his head and Madison did her best to toss the gown over his shoulders.

"Happy graduation!" we all cheered, throwing our hands in the air. Jonathan snapped a quick photo of a very surprised Steve Harrington. A grin formed on Steve's face, his eyes flickering around the backyard to the kids, Nancy and Jonathan, the new sign. I couldn't help giggling over his expression. I pressed my hands together in front of my mouth, trying to contain my grin. Steve looked down at me. The grin on his face tightened and his nose began to scrunch. Oh no. I knew what was coming. I wrapped my arms around his waist. Steve's arms wrapped around my shoulder, his head tucking into my neck. The heat of his breath intensified and I felt the tears. My own tears began to fill my eyes. I looked over Steve's shoulder. Nancy's hands were across her mouth, Jonathan's arm around her shoulders. El and Madison both looked like they were going to cry too. Dustin had a little smirk on his face.

"Do you want to go inside for a minute?" I whispered.

Steve shook his head, sniffling and wiping away the tears off his face with an uncomfortable chuckle. He adjusted the cap on his head, turning back to the kids.

"If any of you assholes ever bring this up, atomic wedgies for all of you," Steve said, pointing at the group. There wasn't much threat in his voice. The kids all began snickering, nodding their heads.

"And by the way, happy graduation!"

And with that, the party started. All of them took off their normal clothes to reveal bathing suits underneath. Nancy came inside with me, bringing the beers for the four oldest kids. As I hid the presents where I'd wanted them, I explained to her what happened with Steve's parents. She nodded.

"I've only met them once. I wish I'd had the courage to say something. He really doesn't deserve it and I'm proud of you," Nancy said, wrapping her arm over my shoulder with a short squeeze.

           Back outside, Steve had lost his graduation gown to El, now running around the backyard with her arms spread. Mike smiled after his girlfriend, laughing at her antics. The rest of the kids were in the pool, playing games that required a little supervision as to not end with someone drowning. Steve and Jonathan sat on the loungers, being that supervision but they were talking to each other, smiles on their faces. It was something I wouldn't have expected once upon a time.

Nancy and I sat on the chairs with them. Nancy handed the beer to Jonathan while I pretended to ignore Steve. He nudged me with his elbow. I mimicked the action, taking a drink of beer. He rolled his eyes in response.

We let the kids burn themselves out a little bit. I knew they were ready for the big activity I planned once Jonathan started taking pictures of Dustin and Lucas, asleep and drooling on the grass. I grabbed the stack of shirts from inside the house, telling them to all line up against the fence. Nancy helped me hand out the shirts. I'd called everyone's parents to get the right sizes, because teenage boys grow like weeds. I used fabric paint to write their names and 'graduate 1985' along the collars.

"Okay, everyone put on your shirts," I instructed. Steve took the paint filled balloons from inside the shed.

"So, the plan is the girls are going to stand with us and we're going to throw the balloons at you guys," I explained. "And then we'll switch. And finally, we'll all soak Steve." I looked at my friend, a grin on my face. His eyebrows raised, having no idea that I was including him.

And that's how it went. The girls had way too much fun, roping Nancy and I into throwing the paint balloons too. Poor Lucas's hair got significantly covered in paint, especially when Max ran over and smashed two balloons over his head when the boys had turned to get the backs of their shirts covered. Of course, that targeted Max once the girls lined up against the fence. The first throw from all four of the boys went directly at her. El looked shocked after her first hit, and I realized she'd never experienced water balloons before. Madison threw threats out freely at the boys the closer they got to her head with the paint. We couldn't help laughing at the dramatics of the girls' screams.

Finally, Steve stood in front of the firing squad. I made all the kids line up, one at a time to take a shot at Steve. However, I didn't tell them Steve would get a shot at them individually after. With visible excitement, Dustin insisted on being first which was a little scary. Steve's hands unconsciously placed themselves over his crotch. Dustin's hit went straight into the centre of Steve's chest, forcing out a 'omph'. Mike and Will both went next, and lucky for Steve, neither were very athletic. Max and Lucas were after and I swear Steve's face went three shades lighter. The throw that had us all on the ground laughing with tears down our faces, was El. The first balloon we gave her, it popped in her hand, scaring her a little. She got the hang of it and threw the next one. Much like her boyfriend, El wasn't athletic and the balloon hit Steve right in the nose. Jonathan was insistent on getting a picture.

I was laughing too hard with tears streaming down my face that I missed Steve sneaking up on me. Arms wrapped around me and a scream burst from my chest. I gasped and tried to fight away from Steve as he ran with me across the backyard.

"Steve!"

After a moment of free falling, I was enveloped by the water. Coming to the surface, I wiped the water away from my eyes. In front of me was a grinning Steve Harrington. I shook my head with a look of annoyance.

"You're ridiculous," I said, treading water. Steve got a look on his face that made me swim backwards towards the shallow end. He shouldn't be allowed to act on his thoughts in front of children. I didn't get very far though. Steve, the stupid lifeguard that he was, was in front of me again in a second. He lifted me up and I squealed.

"Steve, your shirt! You're going to ruin it!"

He sighed loudly, dropping me again. Steve peeled off the graduation shirt, along with the t-shirt he'd had on underneath. My heart clenched at Steve's refined torso. Like I said, stupid lifeguard. I smirked at him as he stepped forwards. Behind his head, I could see Dustin lead the other boys towards the pool with their own shirts discarded. As Steve placed his hands on my hips and began to lean his head down, the boys leapt into the pool with war calls. They grabbed Steve and yanked him into the deep end. I was grateful he hadn't been holding me too tightly or else I would've gone under too. Wanting to get out of the wet clothes, I got out of the pool. The girls and Jonathan were sitting on the loungers, whispering amongst themselves.

"I'm going to change," I told them.

"I'll come with you," Nancy said, placing a kiss on Jonathan's cheek.

"What's on your mind, Nance?" I asked, looking at my friend who'd been silent the entire walk through the house. Her gaze flickered to my face as I grabbed my bathing suit. 

"Steve likes you," she said. "And I'd really like to see you two together."

I weakly smiled at Nancy. "It's an interesting situation, but I'm glad to hear you want the best for him."

"I know you've both got a lot of things going on, but I think you two would be good."

I smiled at her again but didn't say anything before making my way upstairs. With my mind stuck on planning the party, I'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes and there was a breeze outside.

I walked into Steve's bedroom, his scent wrapping around me. It was always cleaner than I expected. Changing, I realized I hadn't brought anything to wear over top my swim suit. His open closet caught my eye. My finger ran along his shirts and I picked a burgundy button down shirt. I pulled my arms through the sleeves and took a deep smell of the collar. I could lie in his bed and fall asleep. Hanging my wet clothes over the shower door, hoping they'd be dry by this evening.

Passing through the kitchen, I grabbed the presents. I couldn't wait any longer. Walking out to the backyard, Steve was still being tackled in the pool by Dustin. The others had ended their assault, sprawled across the concrete tiles and grass, stuffing their faces with junk food. Peeking at the pool, Steve was treading water and staring at me. His mouth was open a bit. My eyebrows twitched at his expression. I carried the bags over to the loungers, sitting beside El and Mike.

"Sorry Steve, I forgot extra clothes. I took this from your closet," I called to him.

"Yeah, yeah, cool. No problem," he stuttered out. Dustin grabbed Steve's head and the pair went under water again. I held boxes to El and Mike.

"I got you guys some graduation gifts," I said, before calling the others over. Will dropped himself beside me and I handed him a present that was bulkier than the rest.

"Try and open them one at a time," I barked. "I want to see your faces."

El was the first to get her gift unwrapped. She looked confused at the hard cover book in her hands.

I smirked. "It's a book on how to learn sign language. It's how people who can't hear communicate. I thought you'd enjoy learning it."

El's mouth opened with a smile as she flipped through the pages. From the centre of the book, a gift card fell out. It was for Starcourt Mall.

"I got one for you, Max, and Madison. I'll take you guys out to get some clothes for the summer."

El threw her arms around my waist. "Thank you."

I smirked, kissing her on the head. Mike was the next to rip his present open.

"Presents! Why didn't anyone tell me there were presents?" Dustin called, rushing out of the pool.

"You were trying to kill Steve, that's why," Madison answered, holding her present. It was kinda obvious that hers was something rolled up. Dustin ran up, covering all of us in water.

"Oh cool, new dice! And a notebook?"

We all started laughing at his excitement with a question mark at the end.

"It's a notebook designed to create a campaign. Eddie helped me find it," I explained.

"Holy crap, thanks!" Mike said, flipping through the pages.

"Can I go next?" Max asked. I nodded, grinning. They were being a lot more polite than I expected. She pulled a cardboard box out of the gift bag, Lucas looking over her shoulder.

"Oh my god, a repair kit. And new wheels? Jess, seriously? This is way too much."

"Shut up, Maxine. Just take it and say thank you," I told her, rolling my eyes. The redhead wrapped her arms around me before sitting back down.

"Basketball socks?" Lucas looked at the large pack I'd bought him with confusion.

"I know you were considering trying out for the team next year, so I thought you could use these. The guy said the company is backed by a couple of NBA players. Also, if you ever need rides to and from practices, let me know," I said. "Oh, and inside the socks are special customized dice too."

Lucas's mouth hung open, understanding the gift better. He smiled at me, bashfully. "Thanks."

"Is this for my hats?" Dustin asked loudly, holding up the metal contraption. I didn't even hand him the present, having taken it straight from the bags.

"Yeah, I figured you'd want a good way to hang them all and give you some extra space."

"And I got dice too!"

Steve took the box from Dustin, reading what it says inscribed on the inside.

"Henderson, did you even read this?" he asked the younger boy. Dustin took the box back from Steve. A smile grew on his face as he read the words I got on all 4 sets of dice I'd bought.

"Thanks Jess."

I smiled at the curly haired boy then down at Will beside me. Unlike his friends, he'd waited with utter patience. I nodded and Will took the tissue paper from his bag delicately. I looked up at Madison and nodded my head at her too. Might as well open them at the same time. I felt the seat shift behind me, Steve peering over my shoulder.

"An art kit?" Will looked at Jonathan first with wide eyes, then at me.

I shrugged. "This is what you'd need for grade nine art at Hawkins High."

Will leaned into my side. "Thanks."

I wrapped my arm around him. "You're welcome sweetie."

Jonathan smiled, mouthing 'thank you'. The kit was expensive and Nancy had shared that Jonathan was worried they wouldn't be able to afford the good brands that everyone else would get.

"Oh sick! Thanks Jess."

Not turning it since all the other kids ran around her to see, Madison was holding a map of the USA. Everywhere we'd live was marked, almost like a flight route. Where Hawkins was, there was a graduation cap. I smiled at her when she looked over the map.

"I promised you, no more moving," I said. "And I meant it."

Steve's head rested against the back of my shoulder, and the scent of his shampoo wafted over me mixed with chlorine. I turned slightly, my mouth brushing against his hair.

"I have one for you too."

"You do?" he asked, sitting up. He looked like a child. I nodded, pulling out the last little bag. I held it out to him, but as Steve went to reach for it, I pulled it back.

"Look, don't freak out or think you have to get me anything next year, okay?"

Steve nodded slowly and I gave it to him. Ignoring the babble of the kids, Steve took out the smaller of the two presents. Cracking open the box, Steve's eyes widened and mouth fell a little.

"Jess, holy crap."

"I know you've been wanting a fresh start in some aspects and I thought a new watch would help."

He took the accessory out of its case. The band was black leather with a wide face. I thought it was stylish. Not completely different from the one he wore, but it was more mature.

"What's on the back?" Will asked. I didn't realize he was paying attention to the exchange. Steve turned the watch over. He silently mouthed the words. 'S, Your life is better than high school. Xx - J '. Steve's lips pushed together and his mouth set off to the side. He looked like he might cry again which was a little satisfying but I did feel bad since he'd probably never cried this much in his life.

"What else is in the bag?"

I turned and saw that everyone was watching. I suddenly was overwhelmed by a warmth of discomfort. Steve began pulling out the larger present, his eyebrows scrunching.

"Dummies Guide to Nerds," Steve read the title.

Max started laughing next to me. "Is that why you took Eddie with you to Indianapolis?"

I nodded, chuckling. "Yeah, that and for his special place to get the dice." Steve looked a little offended. "I'm sorry, I thought it was perfect. Now you can understand what the hell Dustin talks about."

Steve put the book down gently with disinterest, but looked back at the watch. A smile grew on his face.

"It's perfect," Steve said, looking up at me. "Thank you."

I grinned at him. Steve placed his hand on my face and rested his lips against the other cheek. My face heated up at the intimate action. I dropped my head against Steve's shoulder to hide the obvious blushing, watching the kids start sharing their presents.

"I hope Eddie didn't touch my present. I'm going to have to burn it all."

I rolled my eyes. "You're fine, Steve. Be careful, you're turning green. It's not a good look."

Steve's body shook underneath me, laughing.

[the-penguinspy]

19. “You deserve so much better.” mary x shannon

thanks for the prompt, em :)

--

The late afternoon sunlight casts a muted, golden hue on the courtyard, light shining through in lazy bursts at the behest of the clouds fast-moving eastward. A gentle breeze ruffles the grass and provides a welcome respite against the heat, no doubt refreshing for those sister warriors at the tail-end of the day’s training sessions, especially evident to those who close their eyes and tilt their heads toward the heading of the wind.

All-in-all, a serene end to the day. Mary is certain that she’d be enjoying it a lot more if she wasn’t currently following Shannon to the outdoor sparring mats.

They reach the mats and Shannon starts stretching immediately. Mary stares for a second before she starts her own warm-ups. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Your shotguns do an excellent job at keeping enemies at bay, but what happens when you run out of ammo? What happens if someone gets inside of your guard?” Shannon stands and brings her legs together, bends at the waist until her palms touch the floor. Mary simply continues with her arm stretches. Show off. 

“That’s why I have two shotguns, instead of just one.” 

Shannon frowns, straightening her body once more. “I’m serious. I know you can take care of yourself, but I still worry about you.” She takes Mary’s hand and squeezes gently, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “Humour me this once. We can see how it goes.”

Mary squeezes her hand back and sighs. “Fine, but only if your next prank is played on Lil. It’s her fault that I still double-check the sugar and salt shakers each time I use them.”

//

A dozen instances of eating mat and Mary finally, finally performs the disarming maneuver successfully. Shannon grins proudly, canines sharp, and Mary looks at her mouth just in time to catch a tongue darting quick over teeth. She resets her body into the starting position once more, and Mary rolls her shoulders before mirroring her stance. 

“Again.”

//

By the time Shannon calls for a stop, the sun had already reached the horizon and painted the sky into a beautiful red-orange. Mary flops down on her back to better appreciate the view, heartbeat hummingbird-quick, her breathing still ragged from the impromptu training session.

She hears Shannon shuffle down beside her, looks over to see legs stretched parallel to her own. Shannon leans back on her hands, nary a hair out of place and with only the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead to give evidence of physical exertion.

They stay that way until Mary’s stomach growls. “Any idea what they’re serving for supper?”

“Mashed potatoes and roasted veggies, if my sources are correct.”

Mary closes her eyes and groans. “Ugh, mashed potatoes again? After that workout you put me through? I deserve so much better.”

“You deserve so much better,” Shannon agrees.

Something’s off about her voice. It wavered a bit at the end, and Mary looks over to assess if there’s anything wrong. Shannon keeps her gaze trained in front of them, squinting at the sunset, her mouth set in a neutral line. Her face is a careful mix of nonchalance and solemnity, and she would have succeeded in her portrayal of such if her lip hadn’t wobbled when Mary looked over, if her teeth hadn’t bitten down on the inside of her bottom lip to tamp down a smile. For an enthusiastic practical joker, Shannon’s got a surprisingly bad poker face.

Mary narrows her eyes and scrambles to sit up. “Shan.” A responding hum. “I know that look. What do you have planned?”

Shannon turns to face her and, now caught, releases the abused lip to offer her happiness freely. “You deserve so much better,” she repeats. “You deserve someone who you can kiss in public, someone you can love in the open.” Her smile wavers slightly. “You deserve someone who can stay.”

“Shannon.” The name rasps out of Mary’s mouth, and she brings a hand up to cradle Shannon’s cheek. “It’s my choice to be here, to be here with you. I love you, I’m staying, and there’s nothing that you, or anyone, or the goddamn universe can do that’ll make me leave.” 

“Language,” Shannon says, but her smile settles, is no longer turbulent, and she turns her face into Mary’s palm to hide it. The heat of her cheek spreads evenly through Mary’s palm, and the small kiss that Shannon places there electrifies her skin. Tiny bolts of lightning travel up her arm and through her veins, thousands strong; restarts her heart and awakens her body, and Mary blinks fast in an effort to stabilize her focus.

“You also deserve,” Shannon continues, “a reward.” The words come out muffled against Mary’s hand, vibrations smoothing out over the skin, and Mary leans in to hear her better. “Seafood paella. That place by the beach, the one with the perfect shrimp-to-clam ratio? I’ve made a reservation.”

Mary laughs, touched, and her affection spills out in the form of a thumb stroking reverent over Shannon’s cheek. “And what exactly am I being rewarded for?”

Shannon’s smile turns sharp. “Finishing a session of hand-to-hand combat training. I think they call that positive reinforcement or something.”

The eye-roll from Mary is inevitable. “They don’t take reservations. It’s barely busy at this hour, too.” “Is it so wrong to want everything to go smoothly?” 

Mary smirks. “Everything, huh? There’s more to this little date of ours?” Shannon flushes, cheeks turning rosy. She keeps her gaze locked with Mary’s and brings her own hand up, fingers circling Mary’s wrist. Her thumb brushes over Mary’s pulse – a quick one-two pass – and Mary watches as the thumb is replaced with lips, as Shannon presses a slow kiss over thin blue veins, pressure feather-light, imprint barely-there. 

The expression on her face must be amusing at the very least, because Shannon’s mouth curves upwards and chuckles, and the breath that Mary had been holding in finally finds its way out. Her lungs snatch greedily at the air, and she’s certain that her unsteady breathing isn’t due to the lingering exertion from their earlier spar. 

“Are you coming, or what?”

Shannon’s already on her feet. She stands in front of Mary, extends a hand down and wiggles her fingers to entice a handhold. The sun from behind her casts her shadow long and dark over Mary, over the courtyard. In the shadow of her face, her smile is a gentle arc; small and shy, directed towards one recipient, and one recipient only. 

Mary takes her hand and hoists herself up from the ground. “Obviously. Can’t let that hard-fought reservation go to waste.”

Shannon shoves at her shoulder playfully, but their hands stay linked all the way to Mary’s parked motorcycle.

[jhoumous-fr]

Point de vue carniste

[jhoumous]

Everything and Its Opposite.

[kidddoz]

Maurice Headcanons!!

Maurice 20/08/1932 (Leo), 12 years old.

Half English (mom), half Italian (dad). I know he gets in so much trouble while visiting his nonna! Imagine a sunny Sunday and an old lady yelling "MAURIZIO!" because her grandson ate all the tomatoes that were going into the sauce for pasta.

His hair is controversial. His hair is parted in the middle, but before the island, it was super easy to brush it down and make it stay in its place. During and after the island, his hair goes BOOM, the fluffiness arrives, and it is impossible to make it stay in its place. The worst thing is that he doesn't care at all.

His dad is a marine biologist!! Whenever his dad is in another country, he brings Maurice souvenirs, mostly magazines and other things that he adores because he looks for original jokes in the humour section to tell at school. His humour is pretty much a mix between already-made jokes and ocean facts. He is also great at making up stories because of this.

He is an only child, and he is super spoiled. I would confidently say he has one of the most healthy relationships with both his parents. He's just a happy kid (maybe too happy).

In other conditions, Piggy and Maurice could have been besties. Maurice is a Physics nerd while Piggy's a Chemistry nerd, so they'd go to Piggy's aunt's sweet shop to do homework.

Related to that, he is super sweet-toothed. You can convince him to do everything if you are offering him something sweet. He had a lot of trouble on the island because the only mildly sweet things were fruits, and of course, he hates veggies and fruits. It was his hell.

During his teens, his humour grows darker and bitter, including making witty remarks now and then. It might seem he's fine after the island, but has a bunch of unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as using humour to the point of being horribly insensitive to others and even triggering other's traumatic events.

It is quite surprising seeing that he has no healthy coping mechanisms, even if he has a good family circle. That is because his parents, although being great caretakers, always push him to smile or not cry because those problems will eventually pass. I guess his issues derive mainly from repressed feelings and no space for him to digest trauma.

After coming back, he grows closer to Jack, which is super surprising for everyone. The thing is that Maurice leaves the choir once they're back in England but only keeps in touch with Jack, becoming a pen pal almost instantly and never losing contact. Jack doesn't mind this, he thinks Maurice is one of his most genuine friends, if not the only one.

Something inside him still needs closure about the island, so he keeps contact with everyone who was on the island incident, and I mean EVERYONE. He researches and sends a lot of letters to everyone. However, he maintains some distance from the littluns.

He might tend to develop a lot of addictions because of his constant need for short-term happiness. Enjoys gambling, alcohol and whatever that can entertain him.

During his late teens, he starts living in France and finds a job in a newspaper agency! He loves his job and found out that learning French is easy for him, so whenever he visits England, he is like, "Bonjour, fellas!".

Of course, he loves the French ladies or ladies in general. He's such a Casanova, or at least that's his mental image. Even if he's quite famous among the ladies, he never ends up with a girlfriend lol.

He loves the idea of being a reporter but has heard about the new stand-up comedy in America, and he is willing to try.

This is more of a theory than a headcanon, but I firmly believe Maurice's name is based on "Maurice, or the Fisher's Cot" from Mary Shelley. Please look it up because the whole story brings me to tears, but I think there are too many coincidences, and it reflects so well on Maurice's character.

[jinxedwood]

So. I’m one of those weirdos that always skate by the veggie deals when I shop in LIdl. This week they had bok choy  on sale. A quick google on my phone gave me a bok choy and shitake mushroom stir fry that looked tasty  so I blew whatever savings I made on the Bok Choi to buy some fresh shitake mushrooms. Here is the recipe I used. I added  some hoisin marinated tofu pieces and some chilli garlic paste ( because chilli makes everything better) and swapped out the veggie broth for veggie stock but this shit was good. I never get stir fry sauces right so I usually rely on store bought versions but this was so simple I figured I couldn’t get it wrong, and I’m definitely using this sauce again for other stir fries.  

For entertainment while cooking/eating, i listened to ContraPoints pull apart Twilight on youtube, which seems to be a thing at the moment because I also listened to Princess Weekes pull it apart a few days ago. (Am I missing something? Is there some kind of remake on the horizon?) 

Both are good videos, which address different aspects of the books so it's worth your while to watch both, but ContraPoints' sense of humour edges her into first place for me. 

[simping-on-the-daily]

It's really funny whenever you see people bash on TWST for like. Letting the Overblot gang and company get away with the overblotting when honestly the lack of jail time is honestly the funniest part. Yes Ortho and Idia nearly destroyed the world. Yes they picked up trash for a bit. The worst punishment for all the Overblot gang was being locked in a room for thirty minutes with a therapist but the therapist is actually a pineapple with a glued on moustache. Yes Jamil tried to throw Yuu out of a building and to the edge of nowhere. Yes Yuu always helps Jamil by chopping the veggies for him. The highlight of the Masquerade is Rollo's punishment entirely relying on Catholic guilt. Fucking hilarious y'all just need to develop a sense of humour

[paeliae-occasionally]

OC interview tag!

Thanks @drchenquill for the tag!

I have answered some of these for Xaeren, so this time I will answer for Apollo.

Were you named after anyone?

Well my given name was Syrelne, after the rune of illusions, but Apollo was given to me by an old friend. I have no idea where they are now, but I wish them well.

When was the last time you cried?

When I thought Tyro was killed. I know I shouldn’t but I still blame myself for not being with them.

Do you have any kids?

Not biologically. In my line of work it is not greatly practical, all of the running for my life and such. I do consider lots of the children who pass through the camp to be like my children.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yes. I shouldn’t but humour is one gift that cannot be taken from me despite the many who have tried.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I think that depends on the person. Nowadays I usually check for rune pouches, and determination. I have found many would-be assassins have the same glint in their eyes.

What’s your eye color?

Green, but in some light I have been told they look grey.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I have never seen a movie, but I have always enjoyed stories with happy endings. Hope is a great tool.

Any special talents?

Well runes, but other than that I can sing relatively well. I enjoy singing with other people. It is one of the best ways, in my opinion, to connect with new people.

Where were you born?

Probably near Kar’wysan. I don’t quite know because I was taken to Vasens when I was very young. Kar’wysan is near the Ponturesi but is a much larger city and is mage run, so the runics have to be, at least publicly, a little subtle.

What was your favorite subject in school?

I never went to school officially. I always enjoyed reading about magic theory. The simple components and strands that form Ike are all so interesting.

What is your dream job?

If I wasn’t raised a runic I would have liked to have trained as a mage. I think with a little political power I could have effected a lot of good for my brother and all sorcerers in the Altic lands. I also would have enjoyed studying, magic will always be one of my greatest passions.

Tagging @leahnardo-da-veggie, @theprissythumbelina and @theink-stainedfolk

[evviejo]

🧄🧺🌴

what do i like in others that i see in myself? a dry sense of humour, being sarcastic and appreciating puns.

the perfect picnic includes cheese, hummus, veggies, some dessert. i'm not a fussy eater, so most picnic foods would probably satisfy me.

my dream holiday is spending a couple of weeks (not longer, because it would be hard to get back to work lmao), just exploring a country on my own. going to museum, wandering through cities and towns, and taking trains or something from one place to the next. my trips to the uk in 2017 and to croatia in 2021 were the closest to this so far (if you ignore the food poisoning i got on my penultimate day in croatia).