goodnight gotham

☆ she/her | aquarius ☆ my letterboxd is @addisonsiniah

[bitchenbae]

A BLACK GIRL RUNS THIS BLOG BITCH

[imhaechanshoe]

Q&A 𖥻 JAAFAR JACKSON

synopsis:a simple q&a with your boyfriend, jaafar, spirals into chaos when the two of you spend the entire video exposing, arguing with, and laughing at each other instead of answering questions.

ᵎ!ᵎ 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ⊹ 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠youtuber.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ jaafar

the camera had already been recording for nearly four minutes before either of you actually started the video properly.

most of those four minutes consisted of you yelling at jaafar from across your apartment while he stood in the kitchen pretending not to hear you.

“jaafar!” you shouted again from the living room, one hand gripping your camera while the other adjusted the throw pillows behind you for the fifth time. “if you don’t come sit down right now, i’m starting the video without you.”

“i’m literally coming,” he called back lazily from the kitchen while opening another cabinet.

“you said that six minutes ago,” you complained dramatically while dropping backward onto the couch cushions.

“that’s because you keep restarting your intro,” jaafar answered while finally walking toward the living room.

“because you keep making noise in the background,” you argued while pointing accusingly toward him.

a loud cabinet slam echoed through the apartment immediately afterward.

you stared directly into the camera with narrowed eyes.

“this is exactly what i mean,” you muttered toward your future viewers.

finally, jaafar walked fully into frame holding an unnecessarily large bowl of chips tucked against his chest like he was preparing for a movie marathon instead of filming a simple youtube video. gray hoodie. black sweatpants. messy curls. completely unbothered.

“you’re dramatic,” he muttered while dropping onto the couch beside you.

“you took forever,” you shot back while shifting the camera angle slightly.

“you spent ten minutes fluffing pillows,” jaafar pointed out while reaching into the chip bowl.

“because aesthetics matter,” you defended while fixing one last pillow behind you.

jaafar glanced around the apartment slowly before looking back at you with a completely straight face.

“this looks exactly the same,” he said calmly.

you gasped loudly before turning toward the camera in mock offense.

“do y’all hear this disrespect?” you asked dramatically while clutching your chest.

he immediately started laughing while tossing another chip into his mouth.

“you invited me here,” jaafar reminded you while leaning back against the couch.

“this is our apartment,” you replied while narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“and yet somehow i still feel like a guest,” he answered with a shrug.

you rolled your eyes dramatically before scooting closer toward the camera.

“okay,” you started finally while slipping into your youtuber voice effortlessly. “hey guys, welcome back to my channel.”

jaafar looked directly into the lens and waved awkwardly with two fingers.

“you look terrified,” you snorted while lowering the camera slightly.

“i hate cameras,” jaafar admitted while rubbing the back of his neck.

“you’re literally related to michael jackson,” you pointed out while staring at him incredulously.

“that doesn’t mean i enjoy this,” he defended while shrugging again.

you grinned immediately.

“anyways, today we’re doing a q&a with my boyfriend because you guys have been begging for this video for months,” you explained while pulling your phone into your lap.

jaafar blinked slowly before looking at you suspiciously.

“they have?” he asked while raising an eyebrow.

“yes,” you answered confidently while nodding.

“nobody begged,” jaafar argued while laughing under his breath.

“they absolutely begged,” you insisted while scrolling through screenshots dramatically.

“you posted one instagram story,” he reminded you while reaching for another chip.

“that counts,” you replied instantly.

jaafar laughed quietly while crunching loudly into another chip directly beside the microphone.

you immediately turned toward him in horror.

“oh my god,” you groaned while grabbing the bowl away from him.

“what?” jaafar asked innocently while trying not to laugh.

“they can hear you chewing,” you complained while setting the chips dramatically far away on the coffee table.

“so?” he asked while spreading his hands defensively.

“so stop,” you answered while staring at him in disbelief.

“you bought loud chips,” jaafar argued while pointing toward the bowl.

you stared at him silently for a long moment.

“you sound like a horse eating drywall,” you muttered before turning back toward the camera.

“you say things that don’t even make sense,” jaafar laughed while shaking his head.

you ignored him completely and unlocked your phone.

“okay,” you started while trying unsuccessfully not to laugh already. “first question.”

jaafar leaned back against the couch confidently now, one arm stretched behind your shoulders.

“what’s the most annoying thing about each other?” you read aloud while glancing between your phone and the camera.

“easy,” both of you answered immediately while pointing at each other.

you both paused before turning toward one another.

“see?” you accused while pointing dramatically toward him. “that right there.”

jaafar started laughing instantly while leaning forward.

“you asked the question,” he defended between laughs.

“you answered way too fast,” you complained while narrowing your eyes.

“so did you,” he pointed out while trying to stop laughing.

“because i had material prepared,” you answered smugly.

“that’s concerning,” jaafar muttered while shaking his head.

you turned toward the camera dramatically.

“this man leaves cabinet doors open everywhere he goes,” you explained while counting on your fingers. “kitchen. bathroom. bedroom. one time i woke up at three in the morning and thought somebody broke into the apartment because every cabinet downstairs was open.”

jaafar was already laughing too hard to defend himself properly.

“that happened one time,” he argued while wiping tears from his eyes.

“no,” you corrected immediately while pointing toward him. “it happens daily.”

“you exaggerate,” jaafar insisted while leaning back again.

“you left the refrigerator open yesterday,” you reminded him while staring at him accusingly.

“that was different,” he answered confidently.

“how?” you asked while folding your arms.

“i was thinking,” jaafar explained while nodding seriously.

you blinked slowly at him.

“and thinking prevented you from closing a refrigerator?” you asked flatly.

jaafar pointed toward you immediately.

“okay, now my turn,” he announced while sitting up straighter. “you wanna know the most annoying thing about her?”

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“he better watch himself,” you warned the camera while pointing toward jaafar.

jaafar ignored you completely.

“she asks questions,” he started calmly while looking directly into the camera, “and then gets mad at honest answers.”

“that is not true,” you interrupted immediately while laughing in disbelief.

“you literally just got offended because i answered your question too quickly,” jaafar reminded you while holding his hands up defensively.

“because you sounded excited,” you argued while staring at him accusingly.

“you asked,” he repeated dramatically.

you dissolved into laughter while jaafar leaned back smugly against the couch cushions like he’d won something important.

the next question barely lasted thirty seconds before turning into another argument.

“who said ‘i love you’ first?” you read aloud while glancing toward him.

“you did,” jaafar answered immediately while nodding confidently.

“no, i didn’t,” you argued while turning toward him in disbelief.

“yes, you did,” he insisted while reaching for the chips again.

you looked directly into the camera with genuine offense.

“why is he lying this early in the video?” you asked dramatically.

“i’m not lying,” jaafar defended while laughing.

“you absolutely are,” you answered while pointing toward him again.

“you said it first,” he repeated confidently.

“no,” you scoffed while crossing your arms. “i said ‘love you.’ that doesn’t count.”

jaafar stared at you silently for a moment.

“that is literally the same sentence,” he answered flatly.

“no, it’s not,” you argued immediately.

“how?” he asked while trying not to laugh.

“because ‘love you’ is casual,” you explained seriously.

“there is nothing casual about telling somebody you love them,” jaafar replied while staring at you incredulously.

“it was casual when i said it,” you insisted stubbornly.

jaafar started laughing again.

“you sounded nervous too,” he added while pointing toward you.

“see? now he’s making up details,” you complained dramatically.

“you were shaking,” he answered while nodding confidently.

“i was cold,” you defended immediately.

“it was august,” jaafar reminded you while staring at you blankly.

you sat there silently for a second before turning back toward the camera.

“next question,” you muttered while trying not to laugh.

jaafar grinned victoriously beside you.

the comments only got worse from there.

“who’s more jealous?” you read aloud while smiling innocently.

“jaafar,” you answered immediately while pointing toward him.

“that’s insane,” he argued while sitting up straighter.

“it’s true,” you insisted confidently.

“you’re literally the jealous one,” jaafar replied while laughing.

“i’m not jealous,” you denied immediately.

“you got mad at a waitress for calling me ‘sweetheart,’” he reminded you while trying not to laugh.

“because she was flirting,” you defended while staring at him seriously.

“she was seventy,” jaafar answered while bursting into laughter.

“she knew exactly what she was doing,” you argued confidently.

jaafar physically bent forward laughing while you maintained complete seriousness.

“you sound crazy,” he managed between laughs.

“i’m right,” you answered stubbornly.

“you’re actually insane,” jaafar replied while wiping tears from his eyes.

“you’re actually blind,” you shot back immediately.

he stared helplessly toward the camera.

“see what i deal with?” jaafar asked dramatically while gesturing toward you.

you crossed your arms proudly.

the next question nearly ended the entire video.

“what was your first impression of each other?” you read aloud while smiling.

“he was quiet,” you answered immediately while glancing toward him.

jaafar blinked slowly.

“that’s your answer?” he asked while staring at you.

“you were,” you insisted while shrugging.

“i barely spoke because you kept interrupting me,” he defended while laughing softly.

“that is not true,” you argued immediately.

“you talked for like forty straight minutes,” jaafar reminded you while pointing toward you.

you looked genuinely offended.

“why would you expose me like this?” you asked dramatically.

“because it happened,” he answered simply.

“you liked it,” you argued while smiling smugly.

“i survived it,” jaafar corrected while laughing.

you shoved his shoulder lightly.

“anyways,” you continued loudly over his laughter, “i thought he looked mean.”

jaafar’s eyebrows lifted immediately.

“mean?” he repeated while staring at you in disbelief.

“you had this look on your face,” you explained while trying not to laugh.

“what look?” he asked suspiciously.

you demonstrated his expression badly by narrowing your eyes and leaning backward with fake attitude.

jaafar burst out laughing instantly.

“that’s not what i look like,” he argued between laughs.

“that’s exactly what you looked like,” you insisted confidently.

“i was nervous,” he defended while shaking his head.

“you looked judgmental,” you replied while pointing toward him.

“you looked loud,” jaafar answered immediately.

you gasped dramatically.

“i am not loud,” you argued while placing a hand against your chest.

both of you fell silent for a second.

then jaafar looked directly into the camera.

“she’s loud,” he announced calmly.

you immediately grabbed a throw pillow and smacked him across the chest while laughing.

“this is abuse,” jaafar complained dramatically while shielding himself.

“you deserve worse,” you answered while laughing harder.

“you’re proving my point,” he muttered while fixing his hoodie.

the video spiraled further downhill after that.

half the questions never even got answered because both of you kept getting distracted arguing over irrelevant details.

at one point jaafar accused you of stealing his hoodies.

“you literally own more hoodies than me,” you defended while throwing your hands up dramatically.

“because you keep taking mine,” jaafar argued while pointing accusingly toward you.

“they’re our hoodies now,” you answered proudly.

“no,” he replied firmly while shaking his head. “communism doesn’t apply to clothes.”

you laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone.

another question asked who was more dramatic.

neither of you even answered because you both started speaking at the exact same time before arguing over who interrupted first.

then jaafar accidentally exposed himself.

“what’s one thing your boyfriend does that always makes you laugh?” you read aloud while smiling already.

“he dances when he thinks nobody’s looking,” you answered immediately while staring at him smugly.

jaafar froze instantly.

“no, i don’t,” he denied while sitting up straighter.

“yes, you do,” you argued while laughing already.

“that’s a lie,” he insisted dramatically.

“you literally danced while making cereal yesterday,” you reminded him while pointing toward him.

“i was not dancing,” jaafar defended while trying not to smile.

“you were moonwalking,” you answered immediately.

“i slipped,” he argued confidently.

“you snapped your fingers,” you added while laughing harder.

jaafar buried his face into the couch cushions dramatically.

“you are such a hater,” his muffled voice complained.

“you looked like somebody’s unemployed uncle at a barbecue,” you answered while wiping tears from your eyes.

“that description was way too specific,” he muttered while finally sitting back up.

you could barely breathe from laughing now.

by the time the video reached its final ten minutes, both of you looked exhausted.

your makeup was slightly smeared from laughing too hard. jaafar’s curls were flattened crookedly on one side from constantly dropping backward against the couch cushions dramatically every time you exposed him.

“this was supposed to be wholesome,” you sighed eventually while leaning against him tiredly.

“it stopped being wholesome twelve minutes ago,” jaafar muttered while looking toward the ceiling.

you smiled softly while glancing up at him briefly before looking back toward the camera.

“okay,” you started quietly while calming down finally. “last question.”

jaafar immediately groaned.

“that sounds dangerous,” he complained while rubbing his face tiredly.

you ignored him while reading the final comment silently.

then your expression softened slightly.

“aww,” you reacted quietly while smiling.

jaafar looked suspicious immediately.

“what?” he asked cautiously while staring at you.

you smiled wider.

“it says, ‘what’s your favorite thing about each other?’” you explained softly.

his entire demeanor shifted slightly afterward, amusement settling into something quieter.

you looked at him expectantly.

“you go first,” jaafar said while avoiding eye contact briefly.

“no, you,” you argued while nudging his shoulder.

“you asked the question,” he reminded you quietly.

you grinned smugly.

jaafar shook his head once before finally looking toward the camera.

“my favorite thing about her,” he started slowly while glancing toward you briefly, “is that she makes literally everything fun.”

you blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the sincerity.

even he looked embarrassed afterward.

“aww,” you teased softly while smiling.

“don’t make it weird,” jaafar muttered while rubbing the back of his neck.

“you’re being sweet on camera,” you pointed out while laughing quietly.

“answer the question,” he replied while nudging your knee gently.

you smiled before leaning your head naturally against his shoulder.

“my favorite thing about him,” you started softly while looking toward the camera, “is that he’s kind.”

jaafar looked down at you immediately.

“and annoying,” you added quickly while grinning.

“there it is,” he sighed dramatically while shaking his head.

“but mostly kind,” you corrected while smiling softly.

a small smile pulled at his mouth despite himself.

then naturally, the moment got ruined immediately afterward when your phone buzzed loudly from beside you.

you glanced at the notification once before snorting loudly.

jaafar looked over curiously.

“what?” he asked while leaning closer.

you started laughing harder.

“what?” he repeated while staring at you suspiciously.

you turned the phone toward him.

“it’s my mom,” you managed between laughs. “she texted, ‘tell jaafar to stop lying about them cabinet doors.’”

jaafar stared at the screen in complete betrayal.

“your own mother is against me,” he complained dramatically while dropping backward onto the couch.

© ιɱhᥲᥱᥴhᥲᥒshoᥱ

[tetsur0-1]

How i be reading smut wth a straight face in bed

[y56n11]

A BOYFRIEND?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Michael Jackson 80s x Female!Reader

Warnings ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Jealousy, Michael sneaking into reader’s room. Not much else?

Summary ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: After Michael sneaks into your bed, you accidentally rejects him in your sleep by claiming you have a boyfriend. Once a jealous and hurt Michael wakes you for an explanation, you reassures him it was just a dream and ask him to stay.

Tags ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Fluff, Jealousy, Possessiveness,

The halls of Hayvenhurst were never truly silent. Even at three in the morning. There was the distant, rhythmic ticking of grandfather clocks, the faint rustle of the wind through the valley trees, and the occasional, soft vocalisation from the birds in the backyard.

Inside his private suite, Michael was wide awake. Michael found that sleep was the one thing he couldn’t command. He paced the length of his bedroom. He felt restless, buzzing energy beneath his skin. A deep, gnawing loneliness that fame only seemed to sharpen.

But tonight, the loneliness was tempered by a secret knowledge, you were only a few doors away.

You had been his closest friend for years, the one person who didn’t look at him like a monument. When things got loud, you were the quiet. When the world felt fake, you were the truth. Tonight, after a long evening of watching old Disney movies and eating popcorn on the floor. He had insisted you stay over. The drive back to your apartment was too long, and the hour was too late.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to leave.

He stopped his pacing in front of the door that connected his wing to the guest rooms. His heart gave a strange, fluttering thump against his ribs. Michael was a man of often intense, overwhelming emotions, and right now, that pull toward your room was like gravity. He wanted to talk more. He wanted to hear you laugh. He wanted to feel the simple, human comfort of being around someone who actually knew him.

His fingers trembled slightly at he turned the brass handle. The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft glow of recessed lights. He watched where he stepped, careful not to step on the creaking floorboards.

He lightly pushed your door open an inch, wincing when it creaked.

The room was bathed in the silver-blue light of the California moon, filtering through heavy drapes. He could see the silhouette of your form beneath the thick duvet. The rhythm of your breathing was slow and peaceful that instantly gave him a sense of calm.

He crossed the room, eyes adjusting to the dark. He watched the way your hair was fanned across the white pillowcase beneath your head. The soft curve of your shoulder visible where the blanket had slipped.

Carefully, with precision, he lifted the edge of the duvet. He slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping beneath his frame.

“Y/N?” He whispered, he had done this so many times, but he had always asked for permission just to be safe not to cross your boundaries.

You stirred. A small, soft groan escaped your lips. He expected you to realise it was him, and offer that sleepy, lopsided smile that he was dangerously obsessed with.

Instead your hand moved.

With the slow, movements of someone deep in the throes of a dream, you brought your hand up, pressing it firmly against his chest. It wasn’t a violent shove, but it was firm.

“Mmm… no,” you murmured, your voice thick and gravelly with sleep. “You can’t… stop.”

Michael blinked, a small, playful smile forming on his lips. “It’s just me,” he whispered, leaning closer, thinking you were just confused by the darkness.

But your next words hit him like a bucket of ice water, freezing the blood in his veins.

“You can’t do this,” you mumbled, your eyes still tightly shut, your head turning away from him on the pillow. “I… I have a boyfriend. I told you…”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Michael didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. He felt a sharp, stinging sensation at the back of his throat, the warmth that had filled his chest moments ago evaporated.

A boyfriend?

The words looped in his brain, each repetition louder and harsher than the last. He searched his memory, frantic and desperate. You hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend. Not today. Not last week. Not in the months you had both spent inseparable. You went to dinners with him, sat in a studio for hours with him, you were the one he called at 2am.

How could there be someone else?

Michael pulled away a little, his back becoming as stiff as a board. His eyes wide as he stared at your sleeping vanilla. The jealousy was immediate, a green, jagged thing that clawed at his insides.

Who was he?

He started running through a list of everyone you know. That photographer from vogue? The guy that works at that art gallery you like?

The thought of you with someone else, laughing at their jokes, holding their hand, sleeping in their bed, mad Michael’s stomach twist in a knot of pure misery. He felt a sudden, childish urge to wake you up and demand an explanation. He wanted to shake you and ask, why? Why had you kept this a secret?

But Michael was nothing if not controlled. He sat there in the dark, his jaw tight, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of hurt and rising possessiveness. He looked at the door, thinking he should leave. Go back to his room, lock the door, and never come out.

But he couldn’t leave. He was anchored to the spot by a need to know more.

“Who?” He whispered, his voice trembling with a rare edge of sharpness. “Y/N, who is it?”

You shifted again, your brows furrowing in your sleep. You didn’t answer the question. Instead you pulled the blanket tighter around you, retreating further into sleep.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, a silent sentinel of resentment. Every time you let out a soft sigh, a new jab of jealousy stabbed through him. That’s why she was on the phone for so long on Tuesday, he thought to himself. That’s why she didn’t want to stay late on Friday.

He imagined you whispering the same soft words of affection to a faceless man that you usually only reserved for him.

Not able to take it anymore. He reached out and shook your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping open. The room was dark, but you could see the silhouette of a figure hovering over you.

“Michael?” You croaked, squinting. “What… what’s wrong?”

“Who is he?” Michael demanded. His voice uncharacteristically sharp.

You blinked rubbing your eyes, trying to process the sight of Michael sitting on the edge of your bed at three in the morning looking like he was about to cry. “Who is who? What happened?”

“A boyfriend?” He snapped. “You just told me. You told me not to because you have a boyfriend?”

You stared at him, completely bewildered. The fog of sleep was still thick in your brain. “I… what? Michael, I don’t have a boyfriend. What are you talking about?”

You sat up, the realisation finally hitting you. You remembered the heavy sensation of a dream. Something about being at a crowded party, someone being too pushy, a faceless stranger trying to grab your arm.

“Michael," you said softly, reaching out for his hand. He flinched slightly but didn't pull away. "I was dreaming. I was literally half asleep. I didn't even know it was you."

Michael stared at you, quietly contemplating. Hesitating before speaking again, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” you insisted, leaning closer so you could see his face. "Michael, look at me. When do I have time for a boyfriend? I’m always with you. If I had a boyfriend, don’t you think you’d be the first person to know? Or, more likely, the person I’d be complaining to about him?"

His expression was a mix of hurt and desperate hope. “You aren’t just saying that because I’m upset?”

"I am 100% sure that I am single, lonely, and currently being interrogated in the middle of the night," you said, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "It was a dream, Mike. A weird, nonsensical dream where some guy was bothering me. In real life, if you crawl into my bed, I’m not exactly going to complain."

The tension in his shoulders melted away, let out a deep long sigh. He slumped forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“You scared me.” He murmured.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” You teased gently, running your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

He let out a weak, sheepish laugh. “I don’t like secrets. Especially not from you.”

“No secrets, I promise.” You said. You felt him relax completely, his weight leaning more heavily against you. “Since you’ve already ruined my sleep and accused me of leading a double life, the least you can do is stay.”

Michael lifted his head, his eyes searching yours. “You want me to stay?”

You lay back down, pulling the duvet up, and opened your arms in an invitation. Michael didn’t hesitate. He slid back under the covers, laying beside you he tucked his head under your chin, his breathing finally evening into a slow steady rhythm.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Michael," you whispered one last time reassuring him.

"Good," he mumbled, his voice thick with returning sleep. "Because he wouldn't know how to take care of you anyway."

You smiled, closing your eyes and pulling him closer. Outside, the owls hooted in the trees, but inside the room, everything was finally still.

Tag list: @darkgreengrl

[springbreak1984]

Goofy and Michael

[blogalahezy]

[an7body]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, '85

| MICHAEL JACKSON |

[bttrflykisses]

oooooh baby this fit

[morganiscooked]

soldier boy x reader

The TV hums low in the background, some black and white film crackling through the speakers. You're half watching it, half watching him.

Ben sits sprawled across the couch like he owns the place because in his mind, he probably does. One arm is thrown over the backrest, the other lazily holding a manhattan. His boots are still on, scuffing your coffee table like it personally offended him.

"You're not even paying attention," you say, nudging his leg with your foot. He doesn't look at you at first, just takes a slow sip. "I've seen this one."

"You've seen every one," you shoot back. That earns a glance, not unkind, but brief and sharp. "Yeah, cuz they don't make 'em right anymore."

You roll your eyes, shifting closer anyway. It's instinct at this point, gravitating toward him like there's an invisible pull. He notices, he always notices, but instead of calling it out, his arm drops from the back of the couch and lands around your shoulders like it belongs there. No comment. No acknowledgement. Just there. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest. The fabric of his shirt is rough, it smells faintly like smoke and something clean underneath. His heartbeat is steady. For a while, neither of you say anything. That's your kind of thing.

At some point, you reach for the bowl of snacks on the table, only for him to intercept your hand halfway.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Eating?" you say like it's obvious. He scoffs, already grabbing the bowl and holding it out properly this time. "You were about to spill it."

"I was not-"

"You were," he cuts in, firm, like it's not even up for debate. You take the bowl anyway, muttering under your breath. "Control freak."

"Damn right." But his grip lingers just a second longer when he hands it over, thumb brushing against your fingers. It's small. Easy to miss. But you don't.

The film shifts into some dramatic scene: soldiers yelling and explosions. You can feel him tense slightly under you, like his body remembers things his mouth never talks about. You tilt your head up.

"You okay?"

He huffs almost as if the question itself annoys him. "'m fine."

"Uh-huh."

A pause. Then quieter, gruffer. "Seen worse."

You don't push, you've learned when not to. Instead, you just settle back down, your hand absentmindedly resting against his side. After a second, his fingers tap once against your arm, almost unsure, before they still. For him, that's practically a speech.

Later, when the film ends and the credits start rolling, you're half asleep against him.

"Hey," he mutters. You hum, barely awake.

"C'mon. Go to bed." You don't move. "'M comfortable."

There's a beat of silence. Then a quiet exhale, half annoyance, half something softer. "Yeah. I know."

The next thing you register is movement. It's sudden but careful. One arm slides under your knees, the other behind your back, and before you can protest, you're being lifted. Your eyes crack open. "You don't have to-"

"Yeah, I did," he says, already walking down the hall. "You'd sleep here all night and then complain your neck hurts."

"That's never happened."

"It has. Twice."

You don't argue. Mostly because you're too tired but also because there's something about this, something about him, that makes it hard to. He sets you down on the bed with surprising gentleness, like you're fragile.

You expect him to leave. That's usually how it goes: him retreating back to the couch, to the TV, to whatever space feels less... this. But tonight, he doesn't. He lingers.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him. "You staying?"

He shrugs, looking anywhere but you. "Don't make a thing out of it."

A small smile tugs on your lips. "Wasn't going to."

Another pause. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed, his solid presence sinking into the mattress. After a second, he lies back beside you, one arm coming up to rest behind his head. You shift closer without thinking. He doesn't comment, but his other arm moves, wrapping around you, pulling you in just a little tighter.

"Don't get used to it," he mutters. You hum softly, settling against him. "Too late."

For a second, you think he might argue. Instead, his grip tightens just slightly, his chin dipping to rest against the top of your head.

"...Yeah," he says quieter. "Figures."

And for once, he doesn't pull away.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

im a sucker for soft soldier boy

[velvetwinchester]

ೀ 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 

Secretly loves when you show him new outfits you got (especially if it’s lacy.) 

Grumbles his way through sephora with you but lets you use him as your personal swatch page.

Keeps his hair longish due to you saying you like it, stops using pomade in it. 

Very very overprotective. 

Smells like tobacco, whiskey, old spice, and cannabis. 

Stays up all night watching tv classics while you sleep. 

[doublewheelrr]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡ BRACE—FACE ( mike wheeler 𝔁 fem!reader )

<33# daphy’s note: i have a confession im such a sucker for mini mike x mini reader… like s2 mike is literally my baby son i love writing cute little fics about him. so this is homage to 13 year old me who saw s2 mike wheeler and felt her entire world shift… this is a short one!! just a cute little idea ive had for years lol also can yall tell ive never had braces (i was supposed to get them in middle school but my mom kept putting it off lmao)

<33# warnings/content: no use of y/n, takes place during s2 (snowball episode), mike and reader are so so awkward and cute and stupid, braces!mike is real to me btw!! even tho finn’s teeth are perfect, i want to make sure everyone knows that the “taking your relationship to the next level” bit is literally just them kissing briefly, since theyre minors and literal small baby children here i wouldn’t even fathom writing anything explicit in this!! the most they do is kiss once lmao

<33# w.c: 3.5k

<33# IN WHICH, The winter before high school, you and Mike both have the misfortune of getting braces. After Mike builds up the courage to ask you to the snowball, they become a problem when you want to take your relationship to the next level.

“𝓘 CAN BARELY EVEN TALK, LET ALONE EAT,” Your muffled voice flowed out of Mike’s telephone. He could barely make out what you were trying to say due to your swollen and painful mouth.

“My mom has me on a liquid diet. I’d rather have all my teeth pulled out than deal with this.” Mike complained, drinking more of his room temperature water.

Since you could remember, you and Mike did everything together. Your birthdays were three days apart, so you always ended up having joint birthday parties in your backyard or Mike’s basement. You guys always did paired Halloween costumes: Princess Leia and Han Solo, George Harrison and Patti Boyd, Princess Zelda and Link.

You and Mike were so codependent, for better or for worse, you guys even got braces at the same time.

For years, you both were the butt of every tooth joke at school. Middle school bullies laughing, saying your teeth could rival the New York City skyline, or making fun of Mike’s overbite that gave him a permanent pout. You always thought it was cute, but obviously your orthodontist didn’t.

Your mothers, keeping up with the trend of raising you both to be some sort of pseudo twins (which you both absolutely hated being referred to as family), booked your braces appointments on the same day.

By dinner that night, you both were seated at the Wheeler family table, your parents sitting next to you, Mike’s family sitting across, and you both had mouths full of wire and colorful bands.

It was hell on Earth.

“This sucks.” You murmured, petting your cat, laying on your chest, “Our teeth weren’t even bad.”

Mike winced, you weren’t sure if it was because of his braces or what you said, “At least we won’t have to hear those mouth breathers talk about us anymore, yeah?”

You smiled a bit at his words. At least, you tried to, since it hurt to even open your mouth currently with the stinging metal attached to your skull.

“Yeah,” You hummed, yawning lightly, “I couldn’t even mouth breath if I tried. It hurts too much to do anything but exist.”

“That’s deep.” Mike yawned after you. You pictured him blinking sleep away from his eyes, rubbing his face and settling back into his pillows.

“I gotta go soon. My mom’s gonna put that stupid numbing gel on my gums before bed.” You whined.

Suddenly, Mike wasn’t so tired anymore. Your voice snapped a thought to the front of his head. You couldn’t hang up yet, there was so much more for you two to talk about, or mumble incoherently about since talking was nearly impossible in your conditions. Like the upcoming campaign he let you help him plan, or deciding which day you guys would go check out the newest game they installed at the arcade.

Most of all, he had to ask you to the snowball dance. It had been on the tip of his tongue since he knew what the snowball even was. Memories of watching Nancy get her hair curled by his mom swamped his mind. He wanted his mom to force him to go shopping for a nice tie and blazer, claiming he had to look his best for you.

“Wait, [Name],” Mike sputtered, trying to ignore the pooling saliva in his mouth, he wondered if it was because of his braces or because he was about to vomit out of nervousness, “Don’t hang up yet.”

“Don’t hang up yet? Mike, it’s already ten o’clock and my mom’s been calling my name for like ten minutes.” You retorted, Mike heard the sounds of your cat purring in the background. He pretended like that was it’s way of cheering him on.

“Your mom loves me, she won’t mind a couple more minutes.” Mike said, “Just, please. Give me a second.”

You sighed finally, resisting the urge to mess with your braces bands, they still felt foreign in your mouth although you guys got them a couple days ago. You pictured Mike on the other side, with his bright blue braces he insisted on getting, trying his best not to doze off because whatever the hell he had to tell you was so important.

“Thirty seconds, Mike. Starting now, by the way.”

“Thirty seconds?” Mike blanched, “How am I supposed to say it all in thirty seconds?”

“I’m giving you thirty times what you asked for. Twenty five now. Make haste, Michael,”

Mike took a deep breath, ignoring how bad his mouth hurt doing so. He sat up on his bed with a grunt. His heart was beating so hard against his rib cage; it could've broken some ribs.

“Okay, okay.” Mike breathed out again, you were worried he’d start hyperventilating. “So y’know that stupid dance coming up?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t? It’s all Max will talk about ever since Lucas asked her.” Mike could hear the eye roll in your voice. He knew you were messing around because you literally coached Lucas on asking Max out for the past three weeks.

“Well, I was wondering… If you, like, were planning on, maybe… possibly—“

“Damnit, Mike! Spit it out!” You yelled over the phone, then wincing at the strain it put on your mouth to do so.

“Will you go to the snowball with me?” Mike blurted out before he could stop himself, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

“Huh?” You replied dumbly. Your face was stunned frozen, so was your brain. “The snowball… with you?”

“Yeah,” Mike blushed so bright he illuminated his dark bedroom, “Like, as a date. Not as friends.”

“A date… not as friends,” You repeated again in disbelief.

You tried to process Mike’s words. For years, since you first met Mike in kindergarten after you two argued over who’s turn it was with the wizard costume (your teacher made you share it, you wore the hat, Mike wore the cloak, which led to the lifelong codependency), you had a crush on him. For a while, you were able to put it off, you were able to shove it to the back of your mind and pretend like your heart didn’t buzz every time you and Mike played footsies under the table during joint family dinners. You never imagined he’d ever like you back, Destined to be in the friend-sister-family friend zone for eternity and then some.

“I mean, you don’t have to! Like, we could go as friends, or not at all, ‘cause the snowball is, like, totally lame of course–” Mike rambled, his mouth was moving so fast he couldn’t even register the aching anymore.

“Mike, shut up.” You interjected, “I’d love to go with you. Or whatever.”

Mike cheered by throwing falling back against his pillows, but ended up slamming the crown of his head on his head board.

“Ow! Ouch, shit!” He cried, dropping the phone. Mike hoped you hadn’t heard the loud ass thud.

“What? Is it your teeth?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry, hold up—“ Mike fumbled to pick his phone back up, “Yeah, yeah… It was my teeth.” He lied.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head at his awkwardness.

“Okay, I’m all good now.” Mike took a second to regulate his breathing, trying to calm his aching gums (and head) and beating heart, “So, it’s a date?”

“Yeah. It’s a date, brace-face.”

“Cool. See ya, metal-mouth.”

“Not if I see you first, tin-grin.”

Mike was three toothpicks into the night, and still no sign of you. He laid his used toothpicks out on the table, as gross as it was, and plucked another out of his blazer pocket to pick out a piece of candy (that his dentist told him not to eat) from his braces. The blue bands reflected the decorations his sister and Will’s brother helped put up. The synth sounds of Age of Consent by New Order faded into background music as Mike moped the night away.

“Still no show?” Mike heard Lucas’ voice over the music. He and Max returned to the table after dance battling in the middle of the gym for twenty minutes. Dustin was off bothering Nancy and Will was hiding in a corner along with Jonathan.

Mike simply shook his head. If he tried to answer verbally, he’d probably start screaming.

“Don’t worry, Mike,” Max tried to smile.

Mike immediately scowled at her, “I’m not worried. Do I look worried?”

Max and Lucas shared a look, one that said a thousand words in a language Mike couldn’t understand.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself then cry afterwards.” Lucas answered, Max nudged his side and motioned for him to shut up.

Mike dropped his head dramatically onto the table, not minding the toothpicks still lined up in a row in front of him. This was a total mistake, a major lapse of judgement.

“Seriously, Mike. She’s gonna be here. Just give her a couple more minutes.” Max placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder in an attempt at comforting him.

Although Max was the last person Mike wanted comfort from, he knew since she touched down in Hawkins, you’d taken a liking to her. That meant you two grew closer over the months and if anyone knew where you’d be, it would be her.

“She’s right, dude. You know [Name] wouldn’t bail out of nowhere.” Lucas reassured, “Plus, she’s, like, insanely whipped for you.”

“Really?” Mike’s entire demeanor perked up like a growing flower. The pair watched the light enter his eyes again and his face turn red under the blue gym lights.

“Lucas!” Max said through clenched teeth, nudging him again to shut his big mouth. Lucas mouthed a “sorry” and motioned zipping his lips.

Another song started to play and Max took that as her opening to save you any more embarrassment. She nodded a last time at Mike and dragged Lucas over to the dance floor.

“And go throw those toothpicks away, it's gross!” The redhead shouted from the crowds of preteens. Mike scowled and went back to rearranging them over the blue table cloth, stricken with boredom and self doubt.

Exactly thirty seconds passed of Mike wallowing in self pity before he heard the clicking of heels coming towards him.

“Go away, Nancy. I’m not in the mood right now.” Mike called without looking up from the table, a pout on his pink lips.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not Nancy.”

Mike damn near gave himself whiplash with how fast he looked up at the voice. His breath was knocked out of his lungs almost instantly. There you stood, wrinkled dress you probably begged your mom to get at the last minute, feet shuffling awkwardly in heels way too big for you. You kept flicking a stray piece of hair out of your face as you tried your best to look natural. To Mike, it looked like you drained all the light in the room with how bright you were.

“[Name]… Y—You’re here,” Mike slowly rose from his seat, wiping his sweaty palms on his dress pants.

You hummed, looking down at your shoes, “Sorry I’m late, it took forever for me to decide what color eyeshadow to wear.”

“Eyeshadow?” Mike questioned, he stepped closer and squinted as you shut your eyes to show him. They were a cool blue color, matching with the bands of his braces.

“I didn’t know which blue would be best.” You gave him a shy smile. “It feels super cheesy now.”

“No! It isn’t cheesy,” Mike insisted, he lifted his dress pants that were too long for his legs to showcase his [favorite color] socks, a perfect matching color for the bands in your mouth, “I wanted to match with your braces too.”

Your heart fluttered. You resisted the urge to throw your arms around Mike right now and pepper his face with kisses.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” You asked, looking behind him to glance at the table full of soda cans and candy wrappers.

“Yeah, just a bunch of candy that I’ll regret eating later.” Mike rolled his eyes, tonguing his teeth to check if there was any more stray candy pieces lodged in between the wires.

“Me too, I had bubble gum before this. But my mom made me spit it out and threatened to call the dentist.” You shrugged, sighing out in annoyance.

“That makes two of us, I guess.”

You and Mike found yourselves in an awkward silence. It was weird and unfamiliar. You guys had never been this weird before. Sitting in silence, basking in each others’ presence was always easy.

The opening notes of Be Like A Woman by Chris Rainbow filled the gymnasium as your classmates got into pairs around the dance floor. Nancy finally caved and danced with Dustin again, Will was off with a random girl with huge curls, and Lucas and Max were obviously together.

You sighed longing, looking at all the couples crouched in on each other, blushing smiles on their faces.

“I love this song.” You spoke softly, Mike could barely hear you over the music.

“U—Uh,” Mike stuttered, his palms shook and got clammy again, he felt himself sweaty through his [favorite color] socks.

You turned your attention to him, an expectant look on your face. The baby fat of childhood still stuck on your cheeks, Mike felt he was looking at seven year old you for a second. You waited for him to speak as you tapped along to the beat of the song.

“Do you like to dance— Wait, no.” Mike face palmed, shifting his lips that got caught on his brackets, “I mean, would you like to dance? Like, with me. To the song.”

You nodded once, already grabbing Mike’s hand and pushing yourself from where you were leaning on the table.

“I’d love to, bucky beaver.” You grinned and rushed him into the sea of kids packed like sardines.

“Is this a good time to tell you I can’t dance?” Mike confessed. He hovered his hands over your waist since he had no clue where to put them.

“It’s a great time for me to tell you I don’t know how to dance either. Apologies in advance if I break your toes.” You admitted, bringing Mike’s moist hands to hold your waist, then posting your hands on his shoulders.

“Then, we’ll be shitty dancers together. Like everything else we do.”

You and Mike laughed in harmony as you swayed gawkily to the music. You hummed the sounds of the singing. You could feel the heat coming off of Mike. He was so familiar and close, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care how awkward you two probably looked.

As Chris Rainbow sang “But save the last dance for me,” against the brick walls of the gym, Mike couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. Your mom’s lipgloss sparkled under the artificial light of the room.

“[Name],” Mike spoke softly. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the candy on his breath.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of telling Mike yes, you smashed your lips onto his. He bristled and froze for a second, but recovered and kissed you back. You were both uncoordinated, but none of that mattered since it was Mike you were doing it with.

Just as you guys went to pull away, a sharp, blinding pain came from your mouth. Your eyes widened as your entire vision was just Mike’s freckled nose.

“Holy shit—“ Mike said in a muffled voice, since he physically couldn’t move his lips much.

You are Mike were still face to face, except now you weren’t joined by your lips, you were connected by your braces. Reality settled in your head, your braces got stuck together after you kissed Mike. One of Mike’s bands got caught on your front teeth brackets.

“This cannot be happening right now.” You said, your lipgloss smearing all over Mike’s lips.

You tried to yank your mouth backward, but Mike only yelled in pain and gripped your shoulders to stop you. You two went around in circles for a second, you trying to rip your mouth off of his, him trying extremely hard not to rip your teeth out of your head.

“Wait, wait! Stop moving,”

“What do you mean stop moving, there’s nowhere for me to move!”

Mike tried to calm himself down, “Just relax a second.”

“It’s very hard to relax when our fucking braces are stuck together.” You were barely able to get your words out due to your… restricted situation.

“Okay, on the count of three, we’re both gonna move.” Mine instructed, he let go of your shoulders and you nodded, or tried to.

“One… Two… Three!”

You and Mike moved on his mark, but you both stupidly jerked forwards, which ended up in your heads colliding.

“Ouch!” You guys cried out in unison. Now you had sore foreheads and mouths.

“Plan B,” You blinked hard once and tried to refocus your eyes on Mike.

“Which is?”

“Scream for help.” You said, deadly serious.

If you could see Mike’s face, you would’ve seen that he was looking at you with the craziest look possible.

“You’re not being serious.” Mike mumbled against your mouth.

“Unless you’re ready to be a conjoined twin, this is our only option.” You snarked, being mouth to mouth with Mike Wheeler was making you snappy.

Mike’s shoulders fell in acceptance. You raised your hand to count down from three. Just as the song ended, you and Mike took a heavy breath before letting out the loudest, blood curdling scream your tiny lungs could muster.

Everyone in the room flinched and turned to look at the two maniacs who were hollering in the middle of the dance floor. The DJ stopped the track, a comical record scratch played throughout the gym. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t one half of the maniacs screaming.

“What the hell is going on?” Nancy jogged up to you guys, an incredibly scrutinizing look etched on her face.

“Our braces are stuck together.” You muttered.

“What?”

“Our braces are stuck together.” Mike repeated.

“I literally have no clue what you’re saying.” Nancy puffed in annoyance. “Wait here.”

With that, she stalked off to either find Jonathan, call your parents, or an ambulance. You hoped for all three.

Lucas, Dustin, Max, and Will shoved their way to the pair of you with varying expressions on their faces. It was clear Dustin and Lucas were trying their best to not burst into tears laughing.

“Does anyone have a camera? I want to capture this moment forever.” Lucas cackled. You and Mike burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Embarrassment or anger, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a little romantic if you think about it. Like, your lips will never be apart. Very Shakespearean.” Max tried her best to comfort. You could tell she was close to giggling, but she kept it together for you.

“I don’t know how romantic getting my mouth stuck on my girlfriend’s braces is.” Dustin commented with a gummy smile.

“Well you don’t have a girlfriend, so you don’t need to worry about that anytime soon.” You said.

Dustin’s brows furrowed in confusion, “I couldn’t hear you because you’re too busy mouthing Mike, but I know it was mean.”

“Did you guys try pulling your heads back?” Will asked in his usual soft voice. You tried to ignore the judgemental looks and snickers from the surrounding crowd.

You and Mike attempted to nod, but only ended up bumping your heads against each other again.

“How did this happen?” Jonathan maneuvered through the crowd and entered Mike’s line of vision. Well, what was left of it since you were taking up most of it.

“They were obviously tonguing each other down and their braces got caught on each other.” Lucas clarified.

“You understood what she said?” Nancy questioned incredulously.

Lucas simply shrugged and nodded, looking at Nancy’s face of disbelief. Somehow, she was always roped into mess by her brother’s annoying friends.

Jonathan scoffed, rolling his deep eyes. He grabbed Mike’s shoulder and your head gently as he moved you both to walk out of the gym.

“I hope you know how you’re gonna explain this to, Mom.” Nancy teased, flicking Mike under his ear as he followed after you three.

Mike made a disapproving noise as you two stiffly walked towards the exit, ignoring the expressions on the chaperones’ faces, with Jonathan leading you. You realized the rest of the party walked after you guys, which made you pause.

“You guys don’t have to stop dancing just for us.” You said, shuffling around to face them.

Max shrugged, “Eh, this dance is a bust anyways. Plus, it’ll be a lot more funny watching you two get surgically removed from each other.”

Everyone, bar you and Mike, laughed at your expense. You two would’ve given them a scalding look and yelled it wasn’t funny, but that wasn’t an option clearly.

As ticked as you were that your first dance ended in a trip to the emergency room, at least you got to do it with Mike. Just like everything else.

[jimmyarts2009]

Brand New illustration for The Brand New Day✨

[peterparkersgirlfriend1]

WE ARE SO BACK. #myhubby

[saturnely]

I love you and your nose Michael insert middle name Wheeler

[kilgarraara]

I LOVE MY TEAM

[fewpion]

The unfinished puzzle

[jelloyouss]

— Mean!mike wheeler x reader

MEAN!MIKE … who argues with you over the smallest things just to see that annoyed look on your face, smirking when you cross your arms because he knows he’s winning.

MEAN!MIKE … who snaps back before thinking, words quick and biting, then spends the next hour replaying the look on your face and hating himself for it.

MEAN!MIKE … who says “you’re unbelievable” under his breath when you do something stupid, but makes sure he’s right there anyway, just in case.

MEAN!MIKE … who uses logic like a weapon, picking apart your words just to win, even when he knows you’re right.

MEAN!MIKE … whose comebacks disappear the second you look genuinely upset, instantly switching from smug to worried without even realizing it.

MEAN!MIKE … who insists he’s not jealous, then proceeds to roast anyone who gets too friendly with you.

MEAN!MIKE … who rolls his eyes whenever you’re being dramatic, but the second someone else does it, he’s already stepping in, voice sharp. “Back off.”

MEAN!MIKE … who calls you distracting when you talk too much, yet somehow knows every single detail you mentioned later.

MEAN!MIKE … who gets cruel when he’s jealous short answers, sharp looks, jaw clenched every time someone laughs a little too hard at your jokes.

MEAN!MIKE … who snaps back before thinking, words quick and biting, then spends the next hour replaying the look on your face and hating himself for it.

MEAN!MIKE … who scoffs when you say you’re hurt, muttering “you’re being sensitive,” but lies awake later replaying every word he said.

MEAN!MIKE … who snaps at you in front of everyone, then refuses to meet your eyes for the rest of the night because he knows he went too far.

MEAN!MIKE … who tells you he doesn’t need anyone, then immediately seeks you out the second things go wrong.

MEAN!MIKE … who never softens his words, but softens his actions walking you home, waiting for you, making sure you’re okay without ever askin

[lengthofropes]

ST5.03 Mike Wheeler