#mike you can run but you can’t hide from your feelings

[poppin-fandoms]

Do you ever think about how Mike straight up PROJECTED onto Will in season 3?? When he said “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls” and then took it back, he hurt Will but he was subconsciously projecting his internalized homophobia onto him.

Then he went down to chase the love of his life and apologize.

It’s so insane to me, that boy is GAY. We all know what you are Mike Wheeler and it won’t be a shock in season 5 (forget about the GA tho)

[steddiealltheway]

(Happy happy birthday Noelle (@frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe) thank you for all your amazing fun facts which are the source for this little ficlet. I hope you enjoy <3)

For some reason, The Party had decided to rent Friday the 13th for their upcoming movie night at Steve's house. With all the shit they've been through, Steve thinks that maybe it's a strange choice, but he knows better than to question the kids.

"What a nice choice," Robin says sarcastically as she looks over Steve's shoulder at the tape. She hasn't quite grasped how defensive the teens can get, but they seem to respect her more than they respect Steve. Figures.

"Isn't it?" Dustin snarks back as he grabs the tape from the counter.

Max rolls her eyes and adds, "I said the same thing."

"Yeah, because you want to watch some shit like Cinderella," Mike whines.

"Does it ever hurt your tiny, sexist brain to think of those weak insults?" Max asks with her eyebrows raised.

Lucas tries to hide a laugh as Mike glares at him.

"Alright, alright, this is the Family Video. Take it outside if you guys are going to bicker," Steve says with a sigh as he moves to restack some tapes Dustin had nudged just to be annoying.

"You and Robin bicker all the time," Dustin says defensively.

Steve gives him a look. "Do you want to lose Harrington house privileges?"

Dustin sighs, looking like he really wants to argue before he turns around to the group and announces defeatedly, "Alright, let's get snacks before tonight."

As they're filing out the door, Dustin runs back to the counter and adds, "I almost forgot. Is it fine if Eddie comes?"

Steve shrugs, trying to look unphased by the question. "Sure," he says, voice cracking a bit.

Dustin instantly lights up. "Great! I already invited him, so that would've been awkward. See you later!"

Robin comes up to him and lightly shoves his shoulder. "Sure," she mocks him. "You're so smooth."

"Shut up," Steve says with a sigh. God, Robin will never let him live down what he thought to be his deathbed confession of his crush on Eddie. In reality, he was just put on so many painkillers in the hospital that he had gotten confused when he woke up in a hospital room.

And yeah, maybe the crush still hasn't gone away and Robin definitely knows, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

"You're going to be at the movie night, right?" Steve asks.

Robin groans. "I've already told you, I have my parent's anniversary dinner tonight."

"So, you'll be at my house tonight," Steve jokes.

"I wish."

Steve nudges her shoulder. He's already seen the obnoxious pictures of Robin and her parents from every year of their wedding anniversaries lining the walls of one particular hallway. It's endearing really, but Robin hates it.

"You better call me later if anything new develops between you and Eddie," Robin whispers although there's no one in the room.

Steve just nods, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as he still refuses to verbally acknowledge the ridiculous crush that maybe fills his stomach with butterflies and all those obnoxious things.

He sighs and turns to Robin. "How am I going to survive tonight without you?"

"The world may never know," she says dramatically.

And really, the world may never know. At least, that's how Steve feels.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Okay, maybe Steve is a little bit of a mess.

Sure, Eddie has shown up, and Steve has been playing it cool, but it's like he can't take his eyes off him. He's made so much eye contact, he's sure that he's creeping Eddie out a bit or giving away his huge crush.

But he’s Steve Harrington. Like Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Inventor of the Harrington charm. All that stuff. And… Eddie has absolutely melted him into a puddle of goo. Christ.

By the time the movie starts, Steve’s head is practically buzzing with all his thoughts of Eddie is sitting next to me. What do I do? The kids are here, so I can’t make a move. But I don’t even know if he likes me.

Then, Max’s question breaks through the thoughts as she asks, “When is the next Friday the 13th this year?”

“Well, fun fact, any month that starts on a Sunday will have a Friday the 13th,” Eddie says with a proud grin.

Steve ignores the kids’ responses asking when that month is and the subsequent response from Eddie saying he doesn’t know, but he just knows the fact.

But for some reason, the fact is absolutely blowing Steve’s mind.

And yes, maybe it’s because it came from Eddie, but truly, when Steve associates fact with something, it is never fun. But this truly is a… fun fact.

He must have a look on his face because Eddie eyes him and asks, “What?”

Steve just shrugs and says, “I just… really thought the fact was… fun.” Jesus, did his Harrington charm just evaporate or something?

But he thinks the honesty of it works for Eddie who smiles softly at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

Eddie swings an arm casually over the back of the couch and leans in. “I’m full of fun facts, Harrington.” He gives him a winks before leaning back.

Steve leans into his space, trying to close some of the distance between them. “Tell me another one.”

Eddie laughs, “I’m going to max out my fun fact limit to one a day.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Eddie tilts his head toward him. “It’s fair if it gives me an excuse to talk to you every day.”

Okay, yeah. That was blatant flirting. Which Steve is about to match, until the kids decide now is the best time to interrupt and yell at them to be quiet as the movie starts.

As the movie goes on, Eddie and Steve drift closer together while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible in front of the kids. They haven’t talked about it, of course, but Steve’s pretty sure neither of them want to scar the kids. Or maybe, Steve just doesn’t want the kids to very accurately point out his feelings for Eddie and force him to deal with them.

Unfortunately, this also means that Steve doesn’t get a moment alone with Eddie to further flirt with him or try to push him for another fact. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Especially since Eddie gave him an excuse to talk to him tomorrow.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“What’s another fun fact?” Steve asks as soon as he hears Eddie on the other line.

“Christ, I just woke up. Give my brain a few seconds,” Eddie groans into the phone, voice rough with sleep.

Steve smiles. “Good morning by the way,” he says sweetly.

“Good morning,” Eddie replies back, sounding a bit less grumpy. There’s a bit of shuffling on his side of the phone before he says, “It’s illegal to feed pigeons on the streets of San Francisco.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “There’s no way!”

“Go ahead and feed a pigeon there then,” Eddie says with a laugh.

“Maybe I will. If you come with me and promise to bail me out.”

Eddie hums on the other line. “I don’t know. I think it would be fun to spend a night in a jail cell with you. Maybe I’ll join you in your crime.”

“Scratch that, I’m bailing you out.”

“That’s sounds about right, Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” Steve questions, feeling like he’s missed something.

Eddie gasps on the other line. “Like Bonnie and Clyde!”

Steve doesn’t respond, waiting for Eddie to fill him in.

“Okay, this doesn’t count as a fun fact because this is just a story of one of the greatest crime couples to ever exist,” Eddie says excitedly, rambling on about the two.

Steve sits back, cheeks hurting from smiling a little too hard as he listens to Eddie and tries not to linger too much on the fact he compared the two of them to a real life couple.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The phone calls continue every day, but the fun facts really are just a starting point to a long drawn out conversation about whatever’s on their mind.

Robin has pretended to get tired whenever Steve calls her right after Eddie has to hang up or spends hours talking about Eddie during their shift at the Family Video. But he knows she’s secretly just as enthralled about the fun facts as he is.

“Did you know that the Statue of Liberty wears a size eight hundred seventy nine shoe?” Steve asks Robin, still in disbelief over the fact.

“Sounds like you’re talking about me,” Eddie says, somehow coming into the store without Steve noticing.

Steve’s heart beats a little harder as he turns to him. “All good things of course,” Steve says with a wink.

“I was scared you were passing off my facts to Buckley as if they were your own for a second there,” Eddie says, leaning across the the counter.

“And what if I was?” Steve challenges, leaning on the counter.

“Then, I would have to revoke my daily fun fact.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “You’d never.”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ll just have to see.”

Steve just laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “What are you doing here though? Coming to deliver my fun fact in person?”

Eddie blushes and looks down. “No, I was actually just… wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Steve says automatically, not even stopping to think if he has any other plans.

“I’ll see you after your shift then?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a bit.

“I’ll see you then,” Steve confirms with a smile.

Eddie nods and turns to leave.

“Oh, wait!” Steve calls out.

Eddie turns around.

“You haven’t told me your fun fact for today.”

Eddie smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until tonight. After all, it’s a pretty good excuse to make sure you come over.”

Steve scoffs, “As if that’s the only reason.”

Eddie just pulls his hair in front of his face as his smile gets a little wider. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” Steve says, waggling his fingers at him.

“Holy shit,” Robin says, startling Steve. “I thought you said your crush was hopeless.”

Steve just shrugs. “It’s Eddie, he flirts with everyone.”

“Not like that.”

Steve pauses and thinks back on their conversation and all the flirtatious banter leading up to this moment. Maybe she’s right, but also he remembers… “Did you know that bubble wrap was invented by accident?”

Robin runs a hand over her face and says, “You two are going to be the death of me, I can already tell.”

Steve just smiles and thinks maybe they will be.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, he shows up at Eddie’s, trying not to overthink things too much.

They were just hanging out. Just… two people… hanging out… alone… who flirt all the time…. And one definitely has a major crush on the other.

Eddie opens the door to the trailer immediately after Steve knocks only a single time. “I heard your car pull up,” he explains as soon as the door is open.

“Been lingering at the door for long?” Steve teases.

“Hours,” Eddie replies dramatically. But there’s a hint of nervous energy that Steve can’t help but pick up on. “Come on in.”

Steve steps inside and is hit with the smell of spaghetti and breadsticks. “Did you make dinner?”

“Nah, I picked it up from Enzo’s,” Eddie says with a smile before closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch where two plates are laid out. “I thought we could… watch a movie while we ate or… something.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve replies with a smile, noticing the way his response relieves some of the nervous energy that is consuming Eddie.

“Perfect, right this way madam,” he jokes as he leads Steve to the couch with his hand resting on the dip of his lower back.

Steve sits down and can’t help but ask, “So, what fun fact did you make me wait for?”

Eddie freezes and curses, “Shit, you were supposed to ask that after all of this.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?” He asks nervously.

Eddie fidgets with his rings and mumbles, “Okay, you can do it.” Then, he turns back to Steve and says, “Fun fact… I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while now, and… I was hoping that this could be a date? And further fun fact, I will absolutely shut up forever if I read things wrong, and I’m so sorry if I did. Oh shit. Did I? Because really, I thought-”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him quickly, placing a hand over his. “I think it’s finally time that I share a fun fact with you.”

Eddie nods, eyes wide and scared.

“Fun fact,” Steve says and takes a deep breath, “I’m really upset that you beat me to asking you out because I’m a damn chicken. And fun fact, I’ve liked you since I saw you interacting with Dustin for the first time. And you can confirm the fact with Robin who I told while I thought I was on my deathbed.”

Eddie’s expression slowly morphs from fear to relief to happiness. “And that’s really all a fact?”

“Yes. Fun ones I hope.”

“Very very fun,” Eddie says with a laugh. He worries his bottom lip before saying, “Fun fact, I really want to kiss you.”

“Fun fact,” Steve echoes cheesily. “I would love to kiss you.”

And he does exactly that.

(Later on, Steve calls Robin from Eddie’s house and yells, “Fun fact, I just kissed Eddie!” Into the phone so loudly that Robin complains that his “fun fact” is giving her ear damage. But she also lets him know that she’s happy for him, as long as he doesn’t keeps phrasing everything as a fun fact.

Only, Steve can’t help it, when everything involving Eddie becomes the best facts he knows.)

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[strawberryspence]

I love the headcanon that Steve takes care of everybody and when he gets home, Eddie takes care of him. But I love it more when Steve doesn’t really know?

Like yeah, sometimes before he goes to work Eddie makes him sandwiches for lunch but that’s only because he was already making one.

Yeah, ever since Eddie and Steve started living together, it seems like Steve’s shampoos are bottomless. Steve found out that Eddie buys the shampoo so he never runs out, but that’s only because Eddie likes it for his long hair.

Yeah, Steve knows Eddie hates doing the laundry. But sometimes when he comes home, his work clothes have been folded and have been cleaned already. But that’s only because Eddie’s already doing a load.

It doesn’t really click with Steve, that this one person who loves him, is taking care of him. Maybe it’s the lack of caring from his parents, or maybe it’s because he grew up alone. But it’s not clicking to him.

It clicks for him one afternoon.

The sun is beaming high in the sun, but there’s a lovely breeze sweeping that keeps them cool. Lucas and Mike are screaming at each other as they pass the ball at each other. It’s not the best team up, but it’s not really a great practice if it’s just Steve and Lucas. So they’ve somehow convinced Dustin and Mike to come, in exchange of Steve finally trying to learn D&D.

Steve’s wiping his sweat with his shirt as he watches Dustin explain the science behind basketball. Something about velocity and gravity and mathematics. Steve’s trying his best to ignore it.

“Steve!” He hears Eddie call from the sides. He’s been sitting there the whole time, watching and laughing.

Steve jogs closer to his boyfriend, who immediately hands him a hand towel.

Steve blinks at the towel, “What’s this for?”

“For your sweat, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

Steve reluctantly wipes his sweat with it. Maybe Eddie packed a towel for himself and decided to give it him instead. He knows Eddie also hates sweating under the sun.

“Water?” Eddie looks up at him with a smile, a bottle of water in hand.

Steve squints at him, worry clear on his face, "What about you? It’s pretty hot, baby.”

Eddie smiles at him, “I bought one for myself. I bought that one for you.”

Huh. That's... great.

“Thank you for bringing me water. I forgot to pack myself one.”

Eddie smirks at him, but there’s something endearing twinkling in his eyes, “I know. You always do. You always pack for the kids and me and Robin and then forget about yourself.”

The sentiment could melt him, there and then. But instead, Steve looks around, checking his surroundings before he kisses Eddie’s cheek in gratitude. Steve turns so he can go back to the boys who’s still fighting over the science behind basketball when he hears Eddie running after him.

“Stevie! Wait!”

He turns, watching as Eddie runs up to him, “Yeah?”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise when Eddie suddenly kneels in front of him. There’s a drumming in his heart that makes him feel like he’s having an actual heart attack. He knows— He knows that Eddie’s not proposing to him on a random Saturday morning, in a random basketball court in the middle of Hawkins. There’s also the fact that they can’t actually marry each other. But with Eddie kneeling in front of him, Steve feels an intense longing for a ring on his finger.

Steve blinks back into reality when he feels Eddie’s hands against his feet. Eddie is— Eddie is tying his shoes for him???

When he finally comes up again, Eddie is smiling at him, big and gummy and brighter than the whole sun, “Your shoe laces are untied. I think I forgot to re-tie them this morning before we went out.”

“You’ve been tying my shoes? Every morning?” Steve whispers, disbelief laces unto every word.

Eddie nods at him, there's an expression of pride on his face, “Every morning since we started living together.”

And here’s the thing, Steve thought he was doing a good job hiding it. He does know how to tie his shoe laces, but he does it super slow and has to redo it multiple times. It’s one of the things that makes him feel— dumb. Like he's an actual idiot. How could Steve fight monsters and he can’t fucking put the bunny’s ear into the other fucking loop? He doesn't know who to be mad at, no one really taught him how to do it. He learned it from a book in the library with no visuals.

“I— I— I don’t know what to say.” Steve stutters, “How do you even know that? I’ve never told anyone.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I won’t tell anyone.” Eddie shrugs, smiling at him, “I saw you one morning struggling to do it. I think I heard you singing that bunny song and I thought I’d make your life a little easier by tying it, so you can just slip into it, ya know?”

“Oh.” Steve blinks back at him, the tears starting to pool on his eyes, “Thank you.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you. It’s my favorite thing to do in this whole world.” Eddie stares at him, brushing a few wisps of hair out of his face.

With the way Eddie is staring at him, he already knows that Eddie knows what he’s thinking about, what the tears in his eyes signify.

“Go play with the boys. They’re suspiciously quiet.” Eddie snickers, “We’ll talk when we get home, hmm?”

Steve searches in his eyes, there’s a morbid part of him that thinks Eddie is realizing that he doesn’t want to be with Steve anymore. Maybe he's realizing how much of a burden Steve truly is. But there’s nothing in Eddie’s eyes that says that. There’s only love and warmth and tenderness all mashed together in two sparkling brown eyes.

“Okay.” Steve answers quietly.

“Okay.” Eddie pats his cheeks before walking back to the place where he’s sitting.

And Steve walks back to the kids and they start playing again. When he looks at Eddie, Eddie’s always tracking him with his eyes, smiling and waving at him as soon as their eyes meet.

They’ll talk later. They’ll talk about how Steve doesn’t know what it feels like to be cared for, and how his parents ruined him. They'll talk about how Steve is cared for now, that their own little found family cares for him so much. They'll talk about healing and changing.

But for now, the fact that Eddie— a person that truly loves him— takes care of him without wanting anything in exchange, is more than good enough.

[joshfutturman]

'you're just like a dream'

series (part 2) - mike insists he isn't sleepy, but you know better. you both find solace in one another as you try to make sense of your growing feelings. (2.7k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddy's) & gn!reader tags - sleepy mike, reader plays with his hair, hand holding, you're abby's babysitter, pre-established friendship verging on relationship, lingering feelings, pure fluff

you don't need to read part 1 to read this part, but here it is!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

the summer breeze gently filters through the open window in mike’s bedroom, causing his curtains to sway gently. you can’t help but smile, feeling content, nestled on top of the blanket on his bed. it was perfect napping weather, hot enough to sleep the afternoon away without a care in the world. stretching, you relish in the scent of him on his sheets. the only thing that would truly make this a picture-perfect napping opportunity would be -

mike enters his bedroom, stopping in the doorway when he sees how relaxed you look. something about you looking so content fills him with satisfaction. a smile tugs on his lips, unable to contain it or hide it. he’d give up on attempting to hide his smiles from you someday.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

the summer breeze gently filters through the open window in mike’s bedroom, causing his curtains to sway gently. you can’t help but smile, feeling content, nestled on top of the blanket on his bed.

your mind wanders to a few nights prior, the night he'd told you that you could use his bed 'if you wanted' instead of the sofa. mike shrugged as he expressed the sofa 'probably wasn't comfortable'. in fact, he knew it wasn't comfortable. he could attest to that with the amount of mornings he'd woken up with a stiff neck after accidentally falling asleep face down on the old pillows.

you hadn't planned to nap in his bedroom, not entirely. you had only entered his room earlier to organise some laundry but found yourself examining your surroundings. your eyes wandered as you imagined how he spent his free time, quickly remembering that he hardly had any time to spare.

your eyes had landed on his bench press in the corner of his room, did he use that? you tried not to picture it, you couldn't get flustered right now. shifting your attention, you turned to his bed and sat, running your hands across the duvet. a frown formed on your lips as you wondered how many nights he lay here struggling to sleep.

an hour or so passes with abby napping in her bedroom, your eyelids growing heavy as you lie down on his bed.

it was perfect napping weather, hot enough to sleep the afternoon away without a care in the world. stretching, you relish in the scent of him on his sheets. the only thing that would truly make this a picture-perfect napping opportunity would be -

mike enters his bedroom, stopping in the doorway when he sees how relaxed you look. something about you looking so content fills him with satisfaction. a smile tugs on his lips, unable to contain it or hide it. he’d give up on attempting to hide his smiles from you someday.

you smile warmly and turn your head towards him as your eyes search for his, “hey, mike.”

entering fully and averting his gaze from yours, mike shuts the door and rests his backpack down on his desk. “hey,” he eventually says in response.

“it’s such a nice day out, and you’re wearing a hoodie. . .” you say sarcastically with a sleepy grin, taking in his attire - a dark hoodie with baggy jeans, the usual.

mike half turns towards you, smirking, “it’s such a nice day out, and you’re inside,” he continues, “two can play at that game.”

“is it illegal to nap now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow to challenge him.

a soft snicker, one that makes your heart skip a beat, “guess not.”

he stands for a few moments, looking back at his bag as if to look anywhere but at you. your eyes find his and note those familiar dark circles beneath them, his tense shoulders, and that distracted look behind his eyes. you wonder how often, if ever, mike relaxed. had he not been sleeping well again?

you then sit up, tapping the bed beside you for him to come closer. mike shifts nervously on his feet a little before obliging, walking over and perching on the edge of his bed. hunching over, he begins to untie his shoes. you watch with a captivated expression, eyes lingering over the curve of his back through his thick hoodie before landing back on his face.

tilting your head, you continue to observe him with a silent smile. the rays of sun catch on his curls as he carefully undoes his shoelaces. you watch as the sparks of auburn through his hair shine with every gentle kiss from the sun, his brow furrowed as his fingers diligently work.

you want to ask how he’s feeling, how his day was, what the first thing he thought about when he woke up that morning was, does he want a coffee, can you hold his hand while you fall asleep. . . there’s so much you want to ask mike schmidt.

but you stay quiet. and so does he.

placing his shoes at the side of his bed, he lets out a sigh of relief and rubs his knees. sometimes, michael had the aura of someone beyond his years - almost like he’d lived a couple of lifetimes already. it was cute. like a grandpa, the way his brow would wrinkle and he’d get grumpy at the smallest of occurrences.

suddenly, his head is turning and he catches you staring. your eyes stray from his and he smiles, scooting back on the bed to come closer to you. when your eyes find his again, you notice the sleepiness in his gaze, looking at you through half-lids.

“you’re tired,” you murmur softly.

mike shrugs, he's almost always tired. no amount of sleep seems to really ‘fix’ him. “not really. a bit.”

you chuckle and nod, “a bit,” you repeat.

mind wandering, you think back to just last week when you both nestled on the couch, your fingers entwined in his hair as he gently drifted to sleep against you. you’d never seen someone fall asleep so fast before, and truth be told, mike hasn’t stopped thinking about it.

it was the best night's sleep he’d had since he was a kid, maybe because he felt truly safe. your tender touches coaxed him into a sleep so deep that he didn’t even dream. then, when he awoke, seeing you above him? he's not sure he could ever describe the feeling.

and he’d been craving it since, not sure how to ask. ‘could you play with my hair again?’ - even thinking of the sentence made his skin crawl. he felt so. . . silly. mike had never been the type to ask for help, or ask for anything really. the burden always fell on his shoulders and he firmly believed that’s where it should stay.

there was unspoken tension between the two of you, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable tension. there was a calmness when in each other's presence, like it wouldn't be so bad if walls crumble. . . like it was simply safe to relax. and with each passing day, mike felt himself wanting to fall into your arms more and more, to be in your embrace. even if just for a little while.

with how soft and distracted his eyes had become, you could tell he was thinking. you were too.

“why don’t you lie down with me?” you eventually mumble, laying back on his bed, keeping your eyes on him. you know mike needs the rest, and if you could offer him any kind of comfort, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

this causes his eyes to widen, blinking. “uh. . .” and this was a habit of his, clamming up. why couldn’t he just get the words out? what if it was a joke? maybe you were just joking. you were joking, right? i mean, it wasn’t too out of the question, you had slept together before.

shit, not like that. his cheeks flush at his own thoughts.

he wants to, he wants to get closer to you. but as he often did, michael struggled to communicate what he wanted. of course he wanted to get closer, he thought about your hands intertwining often. would your hands be soft against his calloused palms?

“sorry, i don’t know why i asked,” you lied with a small forced chuckle, “you don’t have to. it’s just. . . after last week i-“

“i want to,” mike mutters under his breath in a quick response, glancing to the side. and he truly did, mike yearns for your affection, your glances, he’d take anything he could get. he just wasn’t sure how to approach any of it, how did other people find this so easy?

you’re a little shocked at his firm admission, he wants to. so you pet your stomach, offering him to lay back from his sitting position on the edge of the bed. you hope this isn't a step too far. as always, you were careful with mike, respecting his boundaries. you knew it wasn't easy for him to accept affection.

mike looks down at your stomach, and then back to you as if to gauge the situation. swallowing his nerves, he slowly leans back and rests the back of his head against your stomach as one hand rests across his torso.

his weight against you makes you smile, but you can tell he’s still tense from the way his shoulders stay rigid. “you’re not gonna hurt me, you know.” you smile. 

mike smiles nervously, “hm? oh, yeah. . . i know.” he lies, swallowing thickly. his eyes settle on the ceiling above you both, enjoying the way his head rises and falls with every soft breath from you.

fingers twitching, you ache to touch his hair just like last time. you want to watch the tension in his face melt as he sinks into the touch. would he let you do it again?

the room felt calm, the moment soft. birds chirp outside as if they were singing for only the two of you. a ghost of a smile flickers on mike’s lips. a sense of nostalgia for childhood summers fill his mind and yours, where nothing was wrong and puffy white clouds would pass through the perfect blue sky without a care in the world.

and maybe for a short while, nothing is wrong, not while the two of you share quiet times like these.

maybe if you just. . .

your fingers slowly find his hair. at first, mike flinches slightly from your touch as he did before, but soon. . . he relaxes and exhales. his whole body loosens up, his head turning to look up at you with such softness that you almost gasp as you begin to gingerly comb through his hair with your digits.

the tension he holds in his shoulders lessens, body relaxing against you more and more. his slow breaths cause his chest to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm, syncing with yours.

mike’s hooded lids desperately fight to stay open, looking at you in appreciation - but also something more. you offer him a smile and he beams back a wide, tired smile. god, you want this every day. having his soft smile directed at you felt like a gift, one you'd cherish.

eyes drifting across his features, you take in every curve of his face. in turn, he does the same to you as if he’s committing it to memory. he studies you with great effort as if he were scared to blink in the fear that you would be gone when he opens his eyes. the only sound that fills the room is your combined gentle breathing mixing with the ambient sounds of summer from outside the window.

you want to tell him he looks beautiful, that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, with his scruffy stubble and messy curls. in all his imperfect glory, michael schmidt was perfect to you.

and he wants to tell you that you're beautiful to him too, that you weave your way through his mind every day even when you're not around. when he's waking up to his empty bedroom, he's wondering how you slept. when he's flicking mindlessly through tv channels, he wonders what you'd prefer to watch. you were on his mind more than he could ever admit.

slowly, he drifts his free hand across the bed to rest near yours in a sweet, silent offer. all the while, his eyes stay sleepily locked in your gaze. you swallow hard, feeling the presence of his hand beside yours. his hand twitches slightly in anticipation of finally feeling a hand against his. please, he thinks to himself.

your hand finds his, resting softly against his rough palm, fingers interlinking in a peaceful embrace. your thumb traces along the curve of his hand in a repeating pattern, a soothing motion. it's almost impossible to tell, but mike's smile widens slightly.

the room is enveloped by the delicate orange hue of the summer sun, the sun rays almost fighting to land upon mike. and you couldn't blame them, you'd fight to be in his presence too. the beams land across his face, highlighting his face peppered with freckles and the beautiful mix of hazel in his eyes.

if you could, you'd capture this moment in a freeze frame forever. just you, mike and the summer sun.

your fingers continue to work against his hair, tracing across his scalp in a delicate pattern. nails drifting against his skin, his eyes flutter - evidence that you were doing a good job and you can't help but smile. the way his curls gave in to your touch was also incredibly soothing to you, feeling the softness of them wrap around your fingers and then give way to each movement you make.

and mike loves it, his mind quiet and body thoroughly soothed. goosebumps find their way across his neck at your touch. he wants to thank you, but words fail him. instead, he gives your hand a tender squeeze.

his eyes are closing, his hand loosening on yours as he begins to lose the futile battle against sleep. "thought you weren't tired?" you whisper, finally breaking the silence.

". . .m' not. . ." he mumbles with a loose jaw, eyes blinking open again but gradually closing.

your eyes take in the way he's positioned, it can't be entirely comfortable, "bring your legs up, it's okay if you fall asleep."

mike does exactly that in his sleepy state, bringing his legs up onto the bed and curling up with his head nuzzling against your stomach. ". . . not gonna fall asleep. . ." he mutters, his eyes closing completely now as he relishes your warmth against him.

your fingers in his hair continue as you watch him give in to the tiredness that he's tried so hard to fight. "okay, you're not going to fall asleep. . ." you suppress a chuckle, scared to disturb him as his head rests against your tummy.

god, he looks so peaceful. the way he's curled up beside you is incredibly adorable, his fingers loose against yours as you still hold his hand as he sleeps. his breathing deepens, mouth half open as his head nuzzles against your stomach.

the birds continue to sing outside of his window, but all of the noise seems to slowly filter itself out. you're focused on mike, so much so that you find your own eyes growing heavy in response.

how had you been so lucky as to find yourself in this position twice? you weren't sure, but you know you want it again and again. mike's mind plagued him often, almost always, but with you? things were quiet, peaceful. . . like you were an escape he'd desperately search for every time.

he hadn't realised how badly he craved companionship until he saw you, really saw you for the first time. a few months into babysitting abby, he had been getting ready to leave for his shift when he poked his head into her room. you sat by her desk with her, watching contently as she drew and explained each stroke. your patience and genuine interest were both incredibly endearing to him. and when your head turned in his direction, offering a simple sweet smile, he felt an unfamiliar emotion swelling in his chest.

from then on, he knew it was only a matter of time before he caved. it would be impossible not to. mike's defences were strong, he knew it, but the ache he felt for you was stronger.

there's so much he wants to say, but mike's mind would solve that puzzle another time. for now, his mind falls deeper and deeper into sleep.

and so does yours, your eyes closing and your head slumping against his pillows. your hand loosely rests against his head, the two of you breathing softly into the summer air that fills the room.

maybe someday mike would tell you how he felt, maybe. but you were entirely content with taking things at mike's pace, you'd wait forever if it meant he felt comfortable. what more could you ask for than these soft moments where you could hide from the world together and find solace in one another?

you never want to let him go, and from now on? mike was never letting you go either. you felt like home to him.

mike felt like finally, he was home.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. ‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @boonam @laurrrelise @sun-spider13 @sammygirlism @sleepyhutcherson @mikeandikeschmidt ‧₊˚ ily!! .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[schmidtkisser]

hi there!! i just want to say that i absolutely loved your first fic, it was beautiful! regarding prompt suggestions, could you perhaps do something like the reader helping mike get a restful night's sleep following the events of the movie? no pressure ofc!!

Nightly Lullaby

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: mike has trouble sleeping due to the anxiety of dreaming the same memory he has trained his brain for over the past few years. after tucking abby into bed, you help mike finally sleep comfortably for once.

content: established relationship between you and mike, 2nd person pov, comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, love language: physical touch, insomniac mike, fnaf movie spoilers (story takes place after the events of the movie), you babysit abby, you sing them to sleep

a/n: thank u anon for the rq! this was so fun to write and was such a cute prompt to work with <3 hope i did it justice

★彡★彡★彡

It had been about a week or two since Mike resigned from being a security guard at a run-down, haunted pizzeria.

You heard all about it from Mike himself. The history of the place, the owner, animatronics possessed by the ghosts of dead children, his past with Garrett — everything. It was hard to believe at first, but the sincerity in his tone, as well as the fact that Mike wasn’t the kind of person to lie to you, led you to believe everything he claimed was true.

You could barely imagine everything he had to go through. Losing his little brother, his parents, having a difficult time finding a job, all while in the process of almost losing custody of his sister. Though he seemed to be struggling less now that it was all over, you couldn’t help but notice his struggle with sleep ever since then.

Mike always relied on a nightly routine to help him sleep up until a week ago. He told you about the dream theory, and how he’d stare at a Nebraska poster while listening to nature noises on a walkman.

The part that concerned you the most was his reliance on sleeping pills. You couldn’t even begin to describe the relief you felt when he admitted that he was ready to stop using them every night. But now, as a result of the sudden routine change and the lack of pills, he had a hard time falling asleep.

—

He leans against his sister’s doorframe, his arms folded as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. You always tuck Abby into bed after a long day, pulling the comforter over her shoulders before you give her a small forehead kiss. A little conversation exchange would occur, before she would ask a small request from you.

“Can you hum me a song again?” Abby asks, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. The simple routine following up to the nightly lullaby works like a charm. She’ll be asleep in no time. “They help me sleep. And you always do it better than Mike.”

You can’t help but scoff a small laugh at the stab at Mike, glancing over at him to see his reaction. He playfully rolls his eyes at you two, before continuing to observe you both.

You look back at Abby, who is hiding her obvious smile beneath the duvet covers. Your eyes soften at her, your hand reaching down to pet her head, before you begin to hum a simple, yet effective lullaby as she requested. She listens intently, her eyes beginning to flutter shut within the first minute or so of your hum.

Though, she wasn’t the only one listening to the sweet song. Mike’s ears tune into your delicate crooning, yawning quietly as he leans himself forward. He adores the soft rumble from your throat, how it strung itself together into a beautifully crafted lullaby. He thinks you sound angelic despite not singing a single word. He can feel his heart pick up a beat as he listens. He feels his eyes grow heavier, his head beginning to nod off as he feels himself begin to drift.

But the lullaby ends almost as quickly as it began. You pull away from Abby, her soft snores slipping out in purrs; she’s out like a light. Your lips curl into a little smile when you observe her, slowly lifting yourself off of her bed as your attention shifts to Mike, who is in the most exhausted state you’ve ever seen him in. The poor man looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

You make your way over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The sudden contact wakes him up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as he looks at you. His cheeks flush with warmth from how close you are, not to mention the comforting feeling of your arm wrapped around him. It made him want to melt, thinking you feel much warmer compared to any blanket he’s ever used.

“Come on, Mike,” you whisper, guiding him forward. You quietly close Abby’s door as the two of you leave the room. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods, trying his best not to drag his feet across the floor as you walk him to his bedroom. He feels heavy as he leans against you, his exhaustion making itself present with every passing second.

Making your way inside the room, you close the door behind you with the heel of your foot. You walk him to his bed while you keep him close to you. The cold air nips at your skin, and you can feel Mike shiver against you too. You reach over to click his lamp on, the warm light illuminating the room. He murmurs your name softly as you both take a seat on his mattress with a creak.

“There, there,” you rub a hand up his back. Your eyes gaze down at him, noticing even the slightest few details about him. His furrowed brows, the little frown pursed on his lips, and most notably; the dark eye bags dusted beneath his eyes. The sight saddens you. He really hasn’t slept a wink in the past week.

He casts his eyes up at you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you closer. To him, it feels like having a teddy bear in his arms — something he hadn’t really felt since the loss of his childhood. The thought gets him emotional, and he attempts to hide the sudden flood of emotions welling in his face by nuzzling himself against your neck. His fingers slowly clutch onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t want to dream anymore,” he utters. “Things are fine now but, what if I dream about that again, you know? I mean, I trained my brain to think of the same memory every night.” There was a slight crack in his voice, his clutch growing tighter. “Y/N, I know it sounds stupid, but I just…”

“…It’s not stupid. None of it is.” You hush him gently. Your hand trails over to his shoulder, the other reeling him in for a warm hug. You can feel his tense body begin to calm as he takes control of his breathing. The comfort of your embrace never fails to ease him. “I can’t imagine being in your position, but sudden change is difficult. I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, Mike.”

Your tone stumbled slightly as you spoke. It came out cornier than you wanted it to, and you felt your face heat up a little in embarrassment. His silence following your words scares you into a small pit of self-doubt. Did you say the wrong thing? Was it even helpful? You nervously nibble at your lower lip, waiting for any kind of response.

Then, you feel a small, amused huff against the skin of your neck, followed by a little nod from him. The fingers clutching your shirt loosened slightly, but he still kept a grasp on you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You let out a sigh of relief, cradling Mike in your arms. Your lips curl up into a smile, pulling away from the hug just slightly to look at him again. His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, and you can even see a hint of a smile on his face.

You cup his cheek with the palm of your hand, exchanging a sudden, yet loving kiss between you two. The kiss catches him off guard, but he eases into it quickly. You savour the tender feeling of his lips, the warmth of his cheek against your palm, how he kissed back with the same amount of love in his gesture.

Oh, how he makes you melt.

You pull away at the same time, taking a breath as you look longingly into each others’ eyes. Your thumb brushes gently against the corner of his lip, your palm feeling every inch of his stubble. He leans into your touch, and you can’t help but think that he resembles a puppy with the way he looks at you. He closes his eyes, nuzzling against your palm with a yawn. Your eyes soften, beginning to realise how tired you’ve gotten also.

“Bed time?” You whisper. He nods silently in response.

You draw back from the intimate cuddles to tuck him into bed. He feels your absence, and you feel it too, despite the fact that you were just a foot away from him.

He brings himself down onto his bed, resting his head against the feather-filled pillow. You carefully pull the comforter over his body, providing him with warmth against the cold air circulating in the room. He was just about ready to pass out, but his fingers clasp at the rim of your shirt.

“Can you sleep here, with me?” He croaks, turning his eyes away from you. “Please.”

Initially, you were planning to drive home after he went to bed, but you couldn’t help but soften at his request. You were growing too tired to drive safely anyway. You click his lamp off, the room getting swallowed in darkness, with the moonlight peaking through the slits of the blinds. “I can.”

You crawl into the empty spot on the bed next to him, sinking yourself beneath the covers. His bed was far more comfortable than you could imagine, and the faint scent of him has you sinking in deeper.

He rolls over to lie on his side, facing you as his arms snake around your waist again. You do the same, enveloping him in your embrace. He rests his face against your chest with a lazy hum. As he listens intently to the beat of your heart, he thinks of a small, though embarrassing request.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

He pulls you in closer, your bodies intertwining. “Can you hum me a song?” He murmurs. “Like you do with Abby.”

The question catches you off guard. You should’ve expected it, yet it still surprised you — but not in a bad way. Deep down, you knew he felt a bit embarrassed for asking you to sing him to sleep. He is a grown man, after all, not a child like Abby.

Yet, you carry no judgement, cradling him in your arms as you accept his request. It was better than listening to a nature tape on loop, or the dead silence of the house, after all.

You begin to hum for him, your lips pressed together as you craft a tune for him to nod off to. He pays close attention to every note, to the rise and fall of your chest when you croon, to how your voice would bounce off the walls back to you two. With every passing second, he can feel his eyes grow heavier. In the comfort of your arms and the sweet sound of your song, he finally lulls off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

You can feel his body relax against yours, and his soft breaths hit against the skin of your chest as he falls into a slumber. You slowly wrap up the song, keeping him in your hold as you nuzzle the top of his head. You smile to yourself, your heart full of tenderness and warmth, whispering for one last time tonight.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the monster

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy. You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

summary: so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

rating: general, slight violence and a lot of cursing though

warnings: blood, fem!reader, use of y/n, use of the word "queer" in a negative way, steve being an asshole

words: 8.1k

before you swing in: hey guys ! sorry for the delay in updates. finals season took me OUT and then life kinda happened and suddenly i was hiding out from my roommate turned middle school bully ??? idek. anyways, here's chapter 6 which features the iconic alley scene and some very sentimental stevexreaderxjonathan scenes (theyre a mess). enjoy !

-

“Geesh, you’re not a sleeping beauty.”

Dustin’s face greets you when you open your eyes. He’s hovering over you as the morning light streams through your curtains with a determined glint in his eyes. 

“What–?” Your brain hasn’t caught up with what’s going on quite yet, still half asleep. 

“Wake up! I’m going to Mike’s so we can all talk about yesterday and I promised to keep you updated, so… Here’s me updating you.” 

Hearing Mike’s name is what causes you to fully wake up. Mike. The Wheeler’s. Nancy. Steve seeing Jonathan with her on her bed. You quickly sit up and knock your head against Dustin’s, causing the boy to yelp.

“Ow! What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” you say, rubbing your head as your brother glares at you. “Wasn’t intentional, honest. Can you wait like twenty minutes so I can get ready? I wanna come with, I think Jonathan spent the night there and I need to talk to him.” 

Your brother frowns. “Why would Jonathan spend the night at Mike’s?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it.” You say, hoping it’ll be enough of an explanation for him.

Dustin studies you for a moment and you really hope that last night’s events aren’t written all over your face. Somehow, everyone seems to know what you’re thinking and feeling before you even do. 

“Fine,” he concedes, but as he leaves your room he calls over his shoulder, “I’m taking the last of mom’s pancakes though!”

You flop back onto your bed, throw a pillow over your face, and groan. Looks like you’re stuck with a banana for breakfast again. 

When you eventually manage to make your way into the bathroom and shower, your bones ache from pure exhaustion. As the warm water runs over your body, you’re not quite sure if the ache is more emotional or physical. Probably a mix of both. 

You can’t remember how you made it home last night, but slowly it comes back to you in flashes. 

Steve and his wonderful boyishness that has become a breath of fresh air to you. The way he greeted you so excitedly, how he had been worried about Nancy.

Nancy, who you had left alone with Jonathan because of your own pathetic feelings. The girl Steve Harrington is obviously in love with. The same girl Jonathan, your Jonathan, is beginning to fall in love with. 

Then you remember the hurt in Steve’s eyes when he saw Nancy and Jonathan together on her bed. The water suddenly burns and you gasp out in pain and adjust the temperature. 

You know that Jonathan would never do something like that, try to get with someone in a relationship, but lately it’s felt like you don’t really know him like you used to. 

Distantly you remember what Steve had said to you, how he’d seemed so hurt on your behalf, that Jonathan had “everything he could possibly want” when it came to you. Steve claimed you deserved better. You vividly remember that part, the way he said it with such certainty and sincerity that it had made your heart stutter for a brief moment. 

Dustin’s pounding on the bathroom door breaks you from your thoughts. “Dude, hurry up!”

You yell at him that you’ll be out in a second and nearly slip and die as you hurry to get out of the shower. For someone who swore last night not to let stupid boy drama not get in the way of finding Will, you’re really bad at doing it. 

As soon as you’re dressed and ready, you and Dustin bike to the Wheeler’s.

Mrs. Wheeler, as usual, answers the door and lets the two of you in. Dustin heads towards the basement door, but before he goes down you tap on his hat to stop him. 

“Remember what we talked about last night, okay? Friendship, it’s always worth it.” You tell him, and he gives you a nervous smile. He thanks you, takes a deep breath, and then heads downstairs. 

Once Dustin leaves you make your way upstairs towards Nancy’s room. You haven’t been there in years, so you secretly hope you’re remembering the Wheeler’s layout correctly. With every step you take closer to the girl’s room, your heart pounds within your chest. You feel the same wave of nausea that you felt last night. 

When you reach her door, you take a deep breath, just like Dustin had earlier, and will yourself to knock. You’re not sure what you’ll find on the other side of the door, or if you even want to know, but you remind yourself that you’re doing this for Will. 

It’s all for Will. 

You hear rustling in Nancy’s room after you knock, followed by a quiet “hide!” and a loud thud that you presume to be Jonathan. In another life you’d laugh at the situation, but hearing their frantic hiding only makes your nausea worse. 

“It’s just me,” you say through the door, somehow managing to find your voice. It’s weak and frail, but they seem to hear you regardless. 

“Y/N!” Nancy sighs in relief when she opens the door. “God, I thought you were my mom.”

“Bug?” You hear Jonathan’s inquisitive voice, and when you poke your head into the room you see half of his body wedged underneath Nancy’s bed. He gives you a sheepish wave and you find yourself suppressing a laugh. 

You let yourself into the room. “Great hiding place, bee. Mr. Wheeler would definitely never find you there.”

Nancy’s eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, we didn’t– it’s not like that, I promise. Jonathan was gonna sleep on the ground, but I was scared and I guess we just… Yeah.” 

You notice the way she desperately avoids your eyes, almost as if out of guilt. Jonathan is no better, his head ducked in shame as he also can’t quite reach your eyes. When he finally manages to, his smile is a hesitant one. “Her bed wasn’t the same as the bean bag, bug.” 

His words are meant to be a sort of peace offering between the two of you, you know this by the way Jonathan’s voice is soft and unsure. He knows he’s crossed an unspoken line between the two of you, and you’re too tired to argue. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t.” You offer him your hand, which he gladly accepts, and you help him up from underneath Nancy’s bed. 

Nancy watches the two of you and the way you immediately fall back into your comfortable familiarity together. Jonathan stands slightly in front of you as he always does, he hasn’t let go of your hand just yet. You stroke your thumb across his fingers that are interlocked with yours. 

She clears her throat, sits down on her bed, and motions for you to join. “So, I guess you’re here for a reason.”

You gently remove Jonathan’s hand from yours and sit next to Nancy while he’s left to awkwardly stand before the two of you. “Well, yeah. You guys kinda disappeared on me last night.”

Nancy and Jonathan exchange an uneasy look, which only leaves you feeling uneasy as well. Jonathan walks over to her side so that now he’s standing behind her as she sits on the bed. “I’m sorry, bug. It’s just… well, last night was fucking terrifying.” 

“What happened?” You ask, now discarding your confusing feelings. Out of habit you find yourself scanning over their bodies for any injuries, just in case the two of them need any care. 

“The monster… we found him.” Nancy whispers. She tries to explain more, but the memories seem to come crashing back and she shudders. Without thinking, you grab her hand and try to steady her nerves; she smiles.

Jonathan sees Nancy’s fear and steps in to explain. “After you left yesterday, we searched the woods like we planned. We walked around for hours and found nothing, but then we found a dying deer and before we could kill it…” 

“Something dragged it into the woods.” Nancy finishes. 

You hold your breath, now very relieved you hadn't joined them last night.

Jonathan continues. They’d been separated as they looked for the deer and suddenly he could hear Nancy screaming for help, but no matter where he ran he couldn’t seem to find her. 

“I followed the sound of her voice, it was like she was right there, but she wasn’t.” 

Nancy sits stoically next to you, her eyes have glazed over. You feel horrible for her, and you vaguely remember something that Dustin had told you about the Vale of Shadows

The Vale of Shadows is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it.

Slowly you piece it together. “Nancy, could you hear Jonathan, too?” 

She nods. “I was in the woods, but I wasn’t… I don’t know, it was– it was different there. Cold, I remember it was cold.” 

“And it was just like home?”

“What…” Nancy looks even more scared now. “How did you know that?”

You glance at Jonathan, worried that what you’re about to say will cause a reaction. “Will said the same thing when El was able to communicate with him.”

“Wait a minute,” Jonathan interrupts. “Nancy was in the… the Upside, or whatever Mike and them call it?”

“The Upside Down,” you confirm.

Nancy shudders once more. “I think that the monster lives there, feeding on that deer. So if Will and Barbara are there…” 

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand what she’s getting at. Anything that feeds on something as big as a deer is fucking terrifying. If Will and Barb are really stuck in that dimension with the monster, then all your cautioning towards Dustin about getting his hopes up makes you feel ill. 

Will and Barb are basically trapped in that monster’s hunting ground. 

“My mom said she talked to Will.” Jonathan reminds the two of you. “And Y/N, the boys claim that El can still find him wherever he is. If he’s alive, there’s a chance that Barbara is, too.”

“He’s right, Nancy.” 

Nancy shakes her head. “But that means she’s trapped in that place.” 

“Look, this may not sound reassuring, but we have El and the boys. They’re smarter than the three of us combined.” Nancy and Jonathan look at you like you’re insane. “I know they’re young, but they’ve uncovered more than we have within the same amount of time. They’re the reason why we know about the Upside Down, and as we speak I’m more than certain that they’re out there right now trying to find a gate to the Upside Down.”

You take a deep breath. “Now, do I think they’ll find it? Absolutely. But do I fear they’ll find something even worse along the way? Also absolutely. But right now we need to focus on finding the damn thing so we can kill it and protect the kids in the meantime. If we do this right, we can eliminate any possible threat so that when the boys inevitably find another way into the Upside Down, we can just walk in and save Will and Barb.” 

While Jonathan still looks at you like you’re crazy, Nancy clenches her jaw and nods at you. “We have to find it again.” 

Despite how obviously terrified she still is, Nancy’s bravery impresses you. In a way, you suppose that Mike gets his unyielding loyalty from her, which if someone had told you that last week, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

But now? 

You’re relieved to have someone like Nancy Wheeler in your life, even if her presence has created some issues that you never would’ve thought possible. For better or for worse, she’s fiercely loyal and determined, just like you. 

Jonathan studies Nancy, clearly still worried about what she went through last night. “You wanna go back out there?”

The thought of her going back into the Upside Down makes you nervous. “Do we necessarily have to send Nancy back there? Can’t we just like, I don’t know, summon the thing? It clearly likes hunting for food in this dimension.”

“‘Hunting for food…’” Nancy mumbles to herself. She knits her brows together, seemingly drawing some conclusions. “When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer.”

“Poor deer,” you whisper, and Jonathan shakes his head at you to shut up. 

“Meaning it’s… it’s a predator, right?”

“Right.” Jonathan says while you go “Unfortunately.”

Nancy is on a roll now, her usually confident demeanor now back. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a–like a lion or a coyote.” She grabs a textbook that had been discarded on her bed and flips to a page showing other dangerous predators.

“But don’t most predators hunt in packs?” You ask, which has been something on your mind recently. Sure, you know there’s a monster, but how can you be sure there’s only one?

Nancy bites her lip. “Yeah, but for some reason this thing is always alone… like a bear.”

“Honestly, I’d take a bear over whatever the hell we’re dealing with here.” Jonathan once again shakes his head at you, but you wave him off. “Let me lighten the mood, damn.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Nancy smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she continues explaining. “Jonathan, remember at Steve’s, when Barb cut herself?”

For a brief moment you see guilt flash across his face at the mention of that night at Steve’s, the photos he took, and he meets your eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And then, last night, the deer…”

Now you’re beginning to understand. “There was blood, wasn’t there?”

“There was,” Nancy now flips to a page about sharks, which you can’t help but frown at. Maybe you really weren’t following along. She begins to ramble about how sharks can detect the smell of blood from a quarter mile away. 

“I thought I escaped all this science stuff when I tagged along with you guys instead of the boys,” you mumble, trying your best to follow along. 

“The thing can detect blood, bug.” Jonathan clarifies. 

“But it’s just a theory,” Nancy corrects, now turning around so that she can face him. 

They stare at one another, almost as if they’ve now synched together and created a world outside of yours, and once again you feel like there’s no room for you here anymore. 

“We could test it.” Jonathan says, still staring deeply into her eyes. “But if it works…”

“At least we’ll know it’s coming.” 

You notice how Nancy leans in close to Jonathan, more than she once did before, as if he’s her only source of support after what happened last night. In a way, you suppose that now he is. He was the only one there last night when the monster almost got her; they went through something horrible together. 

Something that creates a bond like no other. 

Suddenly Nancy’s door rattles, causing you to jump in her bed while she grabs for Jonathan’s hand. You don’t hear the exchange between her and her mom, too busy reeling over the fact that Jonathan’s fingers are interlocked with hers. 

Jonathan, the boy so against physical touch that the only person he lets hold his hand is you, which took almost a year of friendship to even make him comfortable with. Now here he is, holding Nancy’s hand after only a few days. 

Your heart hurts. 

You know it’s pathetic to be so upset over a natural reaction. Nancy has been through something traumatic and Jonathan had been the one there for her, so naturally she reached out for him. While you know it doesn’t mean anything, it still fucking hurts. You’ve always been secretly elated by the fact that you were the only one who received Jonathan’s affection, his forehead kisses and hair ruffles and his hugs. 

Holding his hand has become second nature to you, long familiar now with the way his fingers feel between yours. 

And now they’re between Nancy’s. 

“Y/N? You still with us?”

Nancy waves a hand in front of your face, and suddenly you’re aware of how long you’ve been staring at the two of them. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m here… still here.” 

“You alright, bug?” Jonathan asks, now a bit worried about you. 

“Peachy!” You try desperately to make your voice light, but the nausea that hasn’t left you since last night once again threatens to make you sick. “Enough about me, though. What I’m hearing is that we need to buy some monster hunting supplies. I mean, unless we plan on beating it with my humor.”

You wink at them, and while Nancy seems reassured by your bravado, Jonathan knows better. He raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head and you know he’s asking what’s really going on? and all you can do is shake your head in a please don’t ask any more questions or I will sob right here right now way that only he can understand. 

Nancy doesn’t notice this exchange and instead gets up from her bed. “Well, if we’re going shopping for supplies then I should get ready. Y/N, I’m sure my mom will give you some pancakes if you ask.”

Right on cue, your stomach rumbles. “Thank God she loves me. I’ll smuggle some up for you, bee.” 

He thanks you before you and Nancy exit the room. She heads for the bathroom while you make your way downstairs.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d gone upstairs!” Mrs. Wheeler greets you and immediately you’re handed a steaming plate of homemade blueberry pancakes. 

Mr. Wheeler huffs. “Do we have to feed the entire neighborhood?”

“Good morning to you too, Ted.” 

The man glares at you as you thank Mrs. Wheeler for the food. You make up a quick lie about working on an assignment with Nancy and that you’d prefer to eat in her room so you can finish up an equation you’d been in the middle of. 

“So, may I bring it upstairs?”

“Well…” Mrs. Wheeler purses her lips, not too keen on the idea. 

You give her your best and most parent pleasing smile. “I promise I’ll be careful, not a drop of blueberry will get anywhere. Scout’s honor!”

“Oh, alright. But please tell Nancy that this will only be a one time thing”

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.”

You leave her alone with a grumbling Mr. Wheeler and a fussy Holly.

–

Nancy is still in the bathroom when you return and Jonathan is awkwardly sitting on her bed, looking around the room as if he’s in some foreign land. 

“Ya know, I’ve never been in a girl’s room before.”

“Gee, thanks.” You scoff at him, setting the plate of pancakes down on Nancy’s desk before digging in. You’re starving. 

“That’s not what I meant, bug.” He flashes an apologetic smile. “Your room is just… Well, it’s not very girly, is it?”

If you hadn’t promised Mrs. Wheeler you’d be careful with the food upstairs, you would’ve thrown a piece of pancake at Jonathan’s face. “Dude, shut up.”

“Shit, sorry.” He makes his way over to the desk and wraps his arms around you as he always does. “What I meant is that this room is so pink, while yours has more comics than I can count.” 

“Don’t forget Spidey posters,” you say with a mouthful of food while simultaneously handing a piece to him. “Anyways, I like pink. I think this room is lovely, honestly. I wanted to paint mine this color when we first moved, but Dustin said if I painted the room pink then he’d never hang out with me in there. Alas, I forfeited.” 

Jonathan laughs and accepts the pancake. “Him and the boys have you wrapped around their little fingers. You know that, right?”

You lean against him, relishing in the feeling of his strong chest against your back. “Mmm, I know. I’m a sucker for those idiots.”

Jonathan tightens his hold around you and draws you deeper into his chest. “I know, it’s what I love the most about you.”

His words are like ice against your skin and suddenly his arms feel suffocating around you. 

You clear your throat and lean forward to lessen his hold on you. “Right, well. You just love it because they listen to me and you can round them up better when I’m around.”

“It’s not just because of that, bug.” Jonathan draws you in again and you’re too weak to fight it. He rests his chin against your head. “I love how you love those around you.” 

The air has become thick between the two of you. 

The way you love people terrifies me, Jonathan’s words from a few days ago echo within your head.

So what’s the truth? Why is he saying all of this?

“Bee,” you bring your hands up and hold onto the arms that are still securely around you. You’re not sure what exactly you want to say, how to explain the warmth you feel for him that simmers within you when he says your name or the way it turns into a furious boil when he looks at Nancy like she’s the damn moon. “You promised you’d call last night.” 

“I know–”

“I was worried about you.”

“And then I ditched you.”

“Again, might I add.”

You put her first, you think.

Jonathan sighs and places a kiss against your hair. “I know.” 

A tense silence follows. Mrs. Wheeler’s wonderful pancakes now taste like cement in your mouth. God, you wish things could go back to how things once were. You miss when Jonathan could wrap his arms around you and the weight of it wasn’t so crushing with all its unspoken implications. 

“I’m sorry, bug. I really, really am sorry.” His voice is strained and he tightens his hold even more, as if to remind himself that you’re still there with him. “I was so scared last night, and had you been the one taken instead of Nancy…”

“But I wasn’t. She was.” You try to keep any emotion out of your voice. 

“I know… I just, I had to make sure she was okay. I promise that nothing else happened. You know that right? Just, please tell me you believe me.” His voice cracks and you finally turn around to wrap your own arms around him. 

“Bee, of course I believe you.” Your words are muffled against his stomach, but he hears you. He always hears you. 

You understand why he stayed at Nancy’s, you really do. But it doesn’t make the sting of it any less painful. You feel awful about what she experienced last night, no doubt forever traumatized by it, but the bitter taste of no longer having Jonathan all to yourself is something you’re still getting used to. 

“You forgive me?” He asks, so faintly you almost don’t catch it.

You lift your head up and catch Jonathan’s eye. “There’s nothing to forgive, bee.” 

And you mean it.

The smile Jonathan gives you as a response, the smile that has always made your knees weak, is just yet another reason why you can’t ever risk what you have with him. 

– 

This may come as a shock to some, but you’ve never set foot in the army supply store. 

The place makes you uneasy. You’ve never been comfortable around weapons, and like you told Nancy earlier: if it ever came down to it, you’d prefer to use your charm (but mostly your wits) rather than violence. It just isn’t your thing. 

While you and Jonathan wander aimlessly around, Nancy seems to know exactly what you guys need. She begins throwing things into the basket around her arm without hesitating and you exchange a look with Jonathan. Clearly it’s a good thing you’ve wrangled Nancy into this mess. 

You wander some more and break away from the group, eyeing the insane amount of weapons, traps, and knives offered in the store. It’s overwhelming and you realize you have no real idea what you’ll even need. Guns unnerve you, the bat Nancy brought just seems silly to use. So what does that leave you?

Your eyes land on a knife with both its ends extended. Its handle in the center is a polished wood that’s a deep ember and the blades themselves are sterling silver that glisten in the dim store lighting. It’s a beautiful weapon. 

As you reach for it to inspect it, one of the store employees, an older man, walks up behind you. 

“That’s a switchblade. It was donated to us years ago.” You jump at the man’s words and he flashes you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m just more skittish than usual this week.” You’re not sure why you admit this to the man, and when he gives you a curious look you clear your throat and change the topic. “You said this was donated?”

“Oh, yes! Here, have a feel for it.” Before you can stop him, he places the knife in your hands. 

Your fingers skim over the smooth wood and you notice some words engraved in it. The letters are scuffed, presumably from age. “Was there writing on it?”

The old man’s smile becomes a sad one. “The switchblade was from this old man, he made it for his wife and claimed she loved to keep him on her toes. So, he had the word ‘button’ engraved in the handle because–”

“She always pushed his buttons?”

“Yeah,” the man laughs. “That’s exactly what she did.” 

There’s a far off look in the man’s eyes, as if he’s remembering a warm summer day from his childhood; bittersweet and filled with fondness. He reminds you of your grandpa whenever someone brings up your grandma who died when you were young. You roll the blade over in your hands. “You knew the woman, didn’t you?”

“I did, but she’s long gone now,” he confirms, his voice wobbling.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” You reach over and place your hand on his forearm, which he smiles at. 

“Don’t be. Martha would be glad someone like you has her knife, now.” 

You immediately drop your hand and try to give the switchblade back. “Oh, no, I can’t possibly take this–”

“It’s yours. You’re the only one who has paid any attention to it. I’ll show you how to use it if you make me a promise.”

Before you can argue more, Jonathan calls out from a few aisles down. “Bug? Where’d you go?”

“I’ll be there in a second, bee!” You turn back to the man. “What kind of promise are we talking about?”

“Bug and bee? Martha called me birdy because a bird swooped on me the first time I ever met her,” the old man chuckles with affection. “Anyways, promise me that you’ll use this with love. I may own this store, but violence never leaves much room for love.” 

The agreement comes easily to you. “Of course.”

And with that, the old man shows you how to flip the switchblade open. It only takes a simple flick of the wrist for the blade to glide back into the handle in the center, and with another flick they smoothly glide back out once more; the way the blades move in sync leaves you in awe.

“You can use both the blades or only one, but I sense that you know that things are always stronger together.” The old man says, a glint in his eyes as he hands the switchblade back to you. 

You smile at him and try it out yourself; the switchblade fits perfectly in your hand and you’re easily able to get the blades in and out. As you’re admiring the way the blades balance each other out, Jonathan appears by your side. 

“Hey, ready to check out?” 

You nod and thank the old man, who waves you off with a friendly goodbye. 

“Who was that?” Jonathan asks once you’re out of earshot from the man. 

You show him the switchblade. “You remember that theory you had about me attracting old people? You’re gonna love this.”

– 

Nancy plops down bear traps, gasoline, and a multitude of other supplies she acquired while you were off talking to the old store owner. The cashier, a significantly younger looking man, looks at the three of you as if you’re insane. 

“And I’ll have four boxes of the .38s.” Jonathan says, and you flash the employee your award winning smile just in case. You recognize how insane this all looks.

“What are you kids doing with all this?” The employee asks, and you Jonathan both instinctively turn to Nancy for help. 

She shrugs, playing the question off well. “Monster hunting.”

The guy laughs and finishes ringing you guys up before the three of you head out to Jonathan’s car. He’s carrying most of the stuff in a box while you and Nancy start loading the bags into his trunk. You quickly help him with the box once you’ve placed your bags down.

“‘Monster hunting’?” Jonathan teases and Nancy just smirks. 

“How do you think that guy would react if he knew we were telling the truth?” You snort and Jonathan can only shake his head in amusement. 

Nancy laughs and bumps her shoulder against yours. “You know, last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like.” 

Hearing Steve’s name makes you freeze. You completely forgot that Steve had been there with you last night at the Wheeler’s. He had seen Jonathan and Nancy together on her bed. You remember the anger in his eyes and your heart sinks. King Steve would never just let something like that go.

“Hey, uh, Nancy?” You try to interrupt the girl, but she’s too focused on her story.

“It took me and Barb all weekend, it seemed like life or death, you know? And now…”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers and Y/N Henderson.” 

You grab at Nancy’s jacket to try and get her attention, but she only has her eyes set on Jonathan. “Nancy, I have something to tell you–”

“What’s the weirdest part? Me or the bear trap?”

“Guys I really need you to listen right now–” Again they ignore you, lost in their own little world that you still don’t have access to. 

For a moment you wonder if you even should warn them, but you know it’d be wrong not to. You could be imagining it, but your new switchblade almost seems to warm up within your pocket as if to remind you of your promise to the old man. 

Nancy’s eyes shine as she looks at Jonathan and you want to scream. Now is not the fucking time. “You. It’s definitely you.”

You clap your hands in front of their faces, finally breaking the two of them out of their spell. “Hey! Assholes! Trying to save your asses!”

Jonathan bats your hands away from his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve, he, uh…” You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to word this, before a car honks and some creep calls out to Nancy. 

“Can’t wait to see your movie.” The boy laughs, which causes your blood to turn cold. The Hawk movie theater, where Jonathan works… In a twisted way, Steve Harrington is a fucking revenge genius.

“What the hell was that?” You hear Jonathan mumble, but your ears are ringing. 

Nancy turns to you, now with distrust in her eyes. “Steve. You said his name.”

“Nancy–I, I forgot and–” You stumble over your words as the girl’s eyes harden. You didn’t mean for this to happen, you don’t know how you forgot. She doesn’t wait for you to finish whatever the hell you were about to say and starts running after the car. You’re quick to follow after her, already knowing what you’ll find. 

“Where are you guys going?”

“Just come on, Jonathan!” You shout behind you. 

Nancy sees the board before you do and the gasp she lets out makes you want to cry for her. There, in big, ugly red letters on the Hawk’s clapperboard are the words spelling out “All the Right Moves Starring Nancy the Slut Wheeler”. 

It’s an awful, awful fucking thing. 

And it’s Steve’s work, you know it is. 

You hear Jonathan gasp out behind you and you see the crowd that begins to form around the three of you. Everyone stares at Nancy and whispers cruel things about her and it takes everything within you not to cause a scene. How fucking dare they. They have no right. Steve had no fucking right. 

In the midst of your anger you notice the tears beginning to form in Nancy’s eyes and you immediately run over to her side and grab her hand. You pull her into a hug and whisper reassurances, promising her that it’ll all be okay. She lets you hold her and you feel so fucking awful. You should’ve done more to protect her. 

Then, you hear the distinct sound of a spray paint bottle rattling followed by Tommy Hagan’s screech of a laugh. Nancy tears herself from your grasp and runs into the alley where the noise is coming from. You follow after her and see Steve and his gang spraying even more things onto the Hawk walls. 

There’s a steely look in Nancy’s eyes and you worry for a moment that she might hurt someone. It’s not that you don’t think it’s warranted, but you’re sure Jonathan’s boss has already called the cops on the teens and they’ll be here soon. Nancy can’t afford to get into any trouble right now. 

“Nancy, I don’t think you should approach–”

She ignores you and angrily marches over to Steve. 

“Hey there princess!” Carol sneers, and you have to refrain from spitting on her. Right now this is about Nancy, you need to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid and to also ensure she knows that you’re right behind her to support her. She needs to know that you’re here for her. 

“Uh oh, she looks upset.” Tommy teases. When he sees you, he lets out another cackle. “Holy shit, Harrington. You were right! Henderson really is a pathetic push over if she’s here with the girl who slept with her boyfriend!” 

Tommy’s words enrage you and you’re about to just say fuck it to your no violence policy when Steve shuts him up. “Knock it out, Tommy. I told you Henderson’s with us–”

Nancy’s slap catches both you and Steve off guard. Everyone gasps in shock but you start laughing, immensely proud of the girl’s strength. “Nice one, Wheeler.”

She spares you a quick glance before steering her glare back at Steve. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve clenches his jaw. “What’s wrong with me? No, what’s wrong with the two of you?”

“The two of us?” Nancy asks. Steve juts his chin in your direction and she turns around, now more confused and hurt than ever. “What does Y/N have to do with any of this?”

A lump of anxiety forms in your chest. “Nancy, I can explain–”

“I was worried about you,” Steve lets out a bitter laugh and distantly you remember saying those exact words to Jonathan a mere hour ago. You guess you understand the boy more than you may want to. “I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.” 

Nancy opens her mouth to respond but Steve cuts her off, now walking towards you. “And you… I always knew you were too nice for your own good, but defending the girl who stole your boyfriend?” He hovers over you; you can smell his expensive cologne this close as he says his next words so low that they almost come out as a whisper, “well, I expected more from you, Y/N.”

You freeze, overwhelmed with his presence. He lingers, you’ve never been this close to him, his eyes are darker than Jonathan’s and filled with more disappointment than anger. You know he can see right through you in a way that fucking terrifies you; he knows. 

“What are you talking about?” Nancy exclaims, effectively breaking whatever moment was going on between you and Steve. He backs away, his eyes still lingering on yours, before facing Nancy once more. 

Your words catch in your throat, still reeling from your encounter with Steve, so it’s Carol who breaks the silence. “I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

“Don’t call her that,” you manage to say, though you can’t seem to stop looking at Steve, who is looking right back at you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy’s voice alerts you of Jonathan’s arrival. You look up and see what the idiot has written on the wall behind him.

“‘Byers is a perv’? Wow, you guys are geniuses when it comes to insults.” You snort, feeling Jonathan place his hand on the small of your back to steady you. He can sense your anger brewing. 

“It’s okay, bug.” He whispers. You relax a bit into him, but you’re still fuming. Steve watches the interaction with an interest in his eyes that lets you know Jonathan’s tenderness with you has only pissed him off more. 

Steve points at the two of you, looking around at his friends. “Aww, how sweet. You guys see that? Tell me, Henderson. Did he whisper sweet nothings into your ear after he slept with my girlfriend?”

Both Jonathan and Nancy speak at once. He denies you two being together while Nancy now understands that Steve had seen her and Jonathan in her room last night. 

“Henderson and I both, actually.” Steve corrects, and you want to punch him. 

Jonathan turns to you, guilt creeping into his voice. “You saw?”

“Now isn’t really the time, we need to help Nancy–”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Nancy says, looking at Steve and then you. “I promise, Y/N. Nothing happened.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, that’s what Henderon said. You just let him into your room to… study?”

“I was telling the truth.” You grit out, but Steve and the others ignore you.

Tommy steps in front of you and Jonathan. “Or for another pervy photo session?”

Jonathan steps towards the boy but you grab his jacket, not allowing him to go any further. You understand he’s angry, but just like how he won’t let you do anything stupid: you won’t let him, either.

Nancy shakes her head furiously. “We were just–”

“You were just what? Finish that sentence,” Steve steps closer to Nancy now and you find yourself preparing to step between them if needed. “Finish. The. Sentence.” 

The only sound in the alley is the sound of Nancy panting. She can’t think of what to say, what can she even say? Steve won’t believe her regardless. To him, she’s already done the unspeakable and hurt him in the worst way imaginable. You feel for the two of them, no one can possibly win in this situation. 

When Nancy doesn’t say anything, the angry expression on Steve’s face slips for a moment and you see the heartbroken boy underneath his mask. It happens only for a second, but you see it. You know you saw it. 

“Go to hell, Nancy.” He scoffs. 

“Harrington, you don’t mean that.” You say, trying to help him out. He’ll regret burning this bridge with Nancy, you can see how deeply he cares for her. He loves her, even if he can’t admit it. If he walks away now, he could lose her. 

While you’re talking to Steve, Jonathan breaks free from your grasp and pulls Nancy away, which only seems to upset him more. 

“You said yourself that we aren’t friends, Henderson. You don't know me. As for you, Byers, I always took you for a queer. I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father.” 

Steve begins to push Jonathan now, but Jonathan has harshly grabbed your arm to pull you away. He doesn't want you involved in this, you know he just wants to get you and Nancy safely out of the situation, but you resist him anyways and try to push at Steve.

“What, you're gonna help your douche of a boyfriend?” Steve sneers at you, and Jonathan will definitely leave bruises on your arm with how tightly he has to hold you back. “Oh, yeah. That house is full of screw-ups.”

He pushes Jonathan again and this time you manage to spit at his feet. “Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“I’m just telling the truth. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

Jonathan stops now. You do the same. Nancy sees this and urges you to keep walking, but you and him exchange a look. You hate violence, you really do, but the Byers family is your own family. Aside from how protective you are of them, you also know the anger that Jonathan has buried within him. If Steve keeps pushing it, you’re afraid of what Jonathan may do.

“I mean, your mom? I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother.” 

You hate violence. You could never, ever hurt anyone. But you’re starting to feel really fucking close to understanding why people seem to enjoy it. “Leave his mom and Will out of this.” 

Steve ignores you and continues spewing bullshit. Jonathan is tense next to you and it’s only now that you notice his clenched fists and his ragged breathing. Steve has gone too far.

“Steve, shut up!” Nancy begs as you now leave Jonathan’s side to begin pushing Steve back. A fight cannot break out. It’s broad daylight and too risky. You can’t let Jonathan put himself in danger. 

“Harrington, you need to leave.” You urge him as you push against his chest, but he just gently pushes you aside and follows after Jonathan.

“But the Byers?” He keeps hitting Jonathan’s back and you have to use all your weight to pull him away. It’s no use. “Their family, it’s a disgrace to the entire–”

Jonathan’s punch lands perfectly upon Steve’s face.

In any other moment, you’d find the accuracy incredibly hot. 

Instead you push the thoughts aside and rush over to him while Steve regains his composure. “Bee, listen to me. Cops could be here any second, you can’t fight–”

You scream as Steve tackles Jonathan onto the car and then the ground. Nancy begs them to stop and has to wrap her arms around you to keep you out of the fight. The sound of skin hitting skin sickens you. 

“Nancy let me go,” Steve lands another punch on Jonathan and the sound his head makes when it hits the ground causes you to cry out. 

“Y/N, Jonathan wouldn’t want you to jump in–”

“I have to help him!” The pure anguish in your voice is what makes Nancy finally let you go. You immediately rush over and try to pry Steve off of your friend, but he doesn’t see you approach and almost lands a blow at your face. 

Jonathan sees this and grunts out, “don’t touch her,” before punching Steve in the face once more and throwing him off. They’re both standing now as Steve’s friends egg the fight on and Nancy pleads for them to stop. You tug at the boys’ clothes to try and break them apart, but you know you’re weak against them. You force yourself to think of something else, and right as you’ve formed a plan, Tommy is the one who steps in and punches Jonathan.

“Get out of here, man.” Steve yells, not wanting anyone to fight his battles for him. 

You slap Tommy across the face. “Fuck off!”

The boy raises his fist to punch you and you don’t have time to do anything else besides flinch and brace yourself for the hit, but Steve intercepts it. “Tommy! I said get out of here!”

You’re in a daze as you process what’s just happened, but then Jonathan starts throwing more punches and suddenly Tommy has his arms around you to hold you back. You try to break out of his grasp, but he’s a lot damn stronger than Nancy. 

All you can do is helplessly watch as your best friend beats Steve Harrington’s face in. He lands one punch, then two, then three, and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan might actually kill him. 

“Jonathan! Stop!” You scream, tears now streaming down your face. 

He has Steve pinned on the ground by the time the cops come. 

“Shit, the cops!” Tommy lets go of you to help break up the fight right as the two officers arrive. They struggle to get Jonathan off of Steve and somehow he manages to punch one of the cops in the nose. Of course he fucking punches a cop in the nose.

You rush over to try and help, but as soon as the cops have Jonathan you feel yet another pair of arms wrap around you. You don’t know who it is, but they start to drag you away while the cops arrest Jonathan. You try to twist around to face your assailant, thrashing and kicking. “Why do you all keep grabbing me?”

“Fuck, Henderson! Stop kicking me, I’m already bleeding!” Steve groans, still carrying you in his arms as he and his friends flee the crime scene. 

You struggle more against him, but you’re exhausted from your previous attempts of breaking up the fight and you’re still crying. You can’t do anything besides making it extremely difficult for him to carry you and throw out a multitude of insults and cuss words. You have to get to Jonathan.

Once they’re a few yards away, they slow down and Steve finally places you back on the ground, though his arms remain around you. You manage to free your own arms and begin punching him in the chest. “Let go of me! Jonathan just got arrested because of you!” Every word you say is followed by a punch. 

“Jesus Henderson! I just saved your ass, quit it!”

“Saved my ass? You just beat up my best friend and he’s bleeding and needs my help and–”

“He’s a cheater! So is Nancy! They deserve each other and if you go back there right now you’ll be arrested and they’re sure as hell aren’t worth getting arrested over!” Steve is screaming at you and shaking you by the shoulders, urging you to understand. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not with Jonathan? And you’re wrong! It wasn’t like that between him and Nancy, you have to understand that.” You scream back at him, faintly aware of Steve’s friends watching in the background. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Y/N.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“God, you’re so naive.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s always the nice ones who are the most naive.”

His words cut through you; you look him in the eyes, “Get fucked, Harrington.” 

Steve lets go of you, surprised by your words while his friends gasp. “I was just trying to help.”

His voice is soft, as if he’s afraid to admit this to you, and you know that in his own way he means it. Steve had only been trying to help, but he hurt the people you love in the process. You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy.

You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

Instead, you turn away and run back towards the alley and Jonathan.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[sleepyhutcherson]

hey! may I request something where the reader opens up to boyfriend!Mike about their past (like moving around a lot as a kid or feeling disconnected from family) and Mike reassures them that they are loved and will always have a home with him and Abby? (hurt/comfort please! thanks for your writing!)

No Big Deal

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike comes home to find you feeling down and you open up to him about your past.

contains: mention of family issues/not having a healthy relationship with family, mike comforts reader, angst - nothing extreme tho!

mike and you had been dating for a little over 2 months, you were both at a stage in your relationship where you were comfortable telling each other anything. mike had opened up to you about his brother garrett, about his dreams, and the loss of his mother. you comforted him, listening and being there for him whenever he needed you.

there were moments when you doubted telling mike about your past, it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him enough to open up to him—you were more concerned of being a burden with your own problems. you didn’t want to add to mike’s pile when he finally seemed at ease.

today in particular you had felt a sudden desperation for your family, feeling home sick. you weren’t sure if that was the right word in your case, you had never really felt at home with them. growing up you had always felt disconnected from them, never really fitting in with them. at gatherings, birthdays, and holidays you always found yourself hiding for long periods of time in the bathroom. oddly enough, there were times when you missed them, not necessarily them but the idea of a family.

you hear the front door open, abby running inside, the sound of her belongings in her backpack rumbling. she shouts you a quick, chirpy “hello” before running to her room.

“hey.” mike greets, sitting on the sofa next to you. you murmur a reply back, and immediately mike can tell something is off. you weren’t sure what gave it away, honestly. “hey, are you alright?” he asks with a softer tone, his eyes begging to meet yours.

“yeah.” you force a faux smile, not meeting his eyes.

mike has never been an expert when it comes to comforting but ever since he’s met you he’s tried his best to learn, taking mental notes from the times you’ve helped him through his struggles.

he leans closer to you, his hand coming to rest on yours. “hey, it’s okay, you can talk to me.” he whispers for only you to hear. you finally meet his gaze, his eyes soft as they stare into yours. you feel a sudden comfort while looking into his, wanting nothing more but to stay like this forever.

you sigh softly and tell mike everything. you tell him about the constant moves as a kid, how disconnected you’ve always felt from your family, how growing up you never felt loved by your family and how you never really felt like you even had a family. you notice his expression change when you say that last bit, you say it so casually like it’s no big deal that it pains him. mike feels a sudden urge to wrap himself around you so he moves forward and pulls you into an embrace, his chin resting above your head, your face buried into his chest hearing his heart thump. you stay like that for a moment, it’s oddly quiet between the two of you but comforting. mike kisses the top of your head before pulling away.

“i’m sorry,” he says, and then: “i don’t know if this helps but i want you to know you are so loved here. by me and abby.” his hand brushes over your cheek, you’re eyes are brimming with tears. “you don’t have to go back to them if you don’t want to. you’re always welcomed here, yeah? this can be your home if you’d like, okay?” he can’t help himself and leans forward to kiss your forehead. he moves down to your lips, kissing you innocently. your foreheads rest against each other’s, it’s nice. you feel cared for—loved for the first time.

“i love you so much,” he cups your face in his hands, your eyes meeting again. “we both love you so much. stay here with us, yeah? if you want to.”

you smile, tears running down your cheeks. “yeah, okay.” you choke out a laugh that follows up with a sob, and without even thinking you bury your face into mike’s chest, his hand stroking your hair as he wraps his other arm around you.

“i love you.” he repeats, it’s muffled, his face buried in your hair, but you can’t help but smile at the words.

i love you

i love you

i love you.

[ohmymalice]

An Unspoken Routine

mike schmidt x f!reader | part 1 ☆1.1k words☆

one sided enemies to lovers, (meaning y/n disliked mike in the beginning) fluff, strangers, becoming friends, misunderstandings, neighbors from across the road

Abby sat on the steps outside their house. She doodled bunnies and bears while waiting for Mike. He promised to take her to Sparky's Diner after his shift, but he was late yet again. The dark-haired girl sighed, disappointed that her brother was late again, as he had been the previous two times. She slumped against the steps, her head smacking onto the top step a little too hard.

"Ow!" she exclaims, adjusting her posture as she rubs the back of her head, now pouting; the neighbor from across the street, a young woman around her brother's age named Y/N, peered through the curtains; she waters her plants, usually around this time; Abby visits and talks to her once in a while, curious about her and her plants.

Abby perks up at the sight and waves swiftly, instantly forgetting her problems. Abby can hear Y/N's front door creak open as she waves back and smiles sweetly at her. She waters the plants in her yard. Abby heads for the road, looking left and right like her brother taught her. Abby skips over to greet you, and you wave. She sits on the steps of your front door.

“Is your brother late again?” You ask, feeling your brows furrow just at the mention of his name. You didn’t really hate Mike, but you disliked him. This man can’t attend any of Abby’s school events, always mumbling shit about being tired when he sleeps 99.9% of the time. 

Abby nods, a slight frown on her lips once more. You ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, I’ll hang out with you instead. Mike’s boring, trust me.” You teased but slightly meant it. You never understood him, and when you heard their aunt come by one day and yell about how he’s unfit to be Abby’s guardian you couldn’t help but agree but Abby always told you otherwise, sometimes she wasn’t the best at communicating so if words got difficult, she’d draw you pictures to make you understand, which actually works really well most of the time. 

Abby giggled at your comment, “He is a little boring… but! He’s very funny sometimes. You should really talk to Mike more Y/n!!” She exclaims, her eyes shining but you shook your head. “I’m sure he’s a busy man, Mike probably doesn’t have the time to talk to me.” Abby shakes her head, her hair moving along with the motion. “If he can spend time with me then maybe he can spend time with you too.” she exclaims happily, I nod along for her sake.

The two girls sat on the stairs of Y/n’s house, the older woman leans against the door frame as Abby leans against her. Abby scribbles on her stairs, you don’t really mind since you find her drawings cute, handing you over some chalk for you to draw along with her. You draw a little picture of her with flowers in her hair. Abby squeals happily realizing that you drew her.

She always loved your little doodles of her, and you loved her doodles too. As the two talked about their day and random things a familiar car pulls up into the Schmidt's driveway, almost hitting the mailbox, you see a frustrated look on his face through the rear view mirror. Sighing, Mike wipes his forehead, kills the engine, and steps out. His eyes fall on the drawings by Abby that stretch from the top of their staircase to the path that almost meets the street, giving the impression that they're pouring out of their front door. Does this girl ever run out of energy?

You see him scan around the yard to find Abby, you look to the girl beside you, watching her stare at her older brother, realizing that she found it a little silly that he was trying to find her, you waited to see if she would call him over. You didn’t wanna call out to Mike but with the wide grin on Abby’s face? It looked like she’d wait all day to see if Mike would find her, like an ultimate game of hide and seek. 

You straighten up and cup your hands around your mouth. 

“Hey, Mike!”

You called out to him, he flinches, unprepared for the abrupt yell. He jerks towards you, his gaze shifting from you to the little troublemaker next to you. 

As he approached you, you replied, "Abby stayed over for a bit, I hope you don't mind." He scratched the back of his neck and sheepishly said, "Sorry for the trouble, I'll make sure she doesn't bother you next time." 

You take a step forward and meet his gaze. "Don't worry about whether she bothers me; worry about being on time." He glances passed you, hearing this comment from dozen of people in the past. His gaze fixed on Abby. Abby embraces her brother, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile. "Can we go to Sparky's now?" Please, please, please!!" She begs, tugging on his sleeve. "Yeah, yeah we can go right now, c'mon we gotta get to the car." 

You could tell he was embarrassed, despite his somewhat frigid and unpleasant demeanor you could see his ears were red. He leads her to the other side of the road but she doesn’t follow, Abby remains standing next to you. Mike turns back, perplexed as to why his sister isn't following him. She was enthusiastic just a moment ago, but now she stares blankly at Mike and you. 

“Can Y/n come with us?" Abby gave Mike the biggest doe eyes, caramel chocolate eyes that seemed to shine when the light hit them. You and Mike exchange a brief glance, both with a skeptical expression on your face. For Abby's sake, you didn't mind, but being there for Mike would have been a different story. "I wouldn't mind," you say, grinning at Abby, and she smiles back, pulling you along and dragging you into their car. Mike gazed at the two, a little embarrassed as if he and Abby were bothering you. "Are you sure?" He mouthed, you nodded in reply.

Even though you weren't really expecting it, you appreciated that he checked on you. Still, normal human decency doesn't make you feel any differently about him. 

Apart from Abby humming along to the radio, the car trip was silent. However, you could hear the little girl kicking her feet against the box that sits between the driver's seat and the passenger seat, creating a slight thud each time. Mike looks at you, you sit in the passenger seat to his right, the soft glow from the sun setting on your skin, His eyes then shift to Abby. He felt uncomfortable, you rarely spoke to him, and when you did, it was either Abby dragging Mike to talk you or you checking in on her. All sorts of things raced through his mind, such as whether he should make small talk in the car or keep quiet, if he even had enough money in his wallet to cover three people when they eat. 

"We’re here!" Abby sings, jolting Mike out of his trance.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT BIT!!! There's a part two to this, I'll come out within the week (hopefully)

I told myself a long long time ago that I would never write in tumblr or even make a fanfic abt fnaf and yet here I am, you could say this was a change of heart. I've been a fan of the games for a long ass time and I could not resist writing about pathetic sad men who are depressed and anxious

[alwaysurvalentine]

he's gone - st drabble

Written for Day 12 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: Terrible Things by Mayday Parade - wc: 848 (kept this one shorter) - cw: major character death

enjoy! 💛

“I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you.” Eddie knows the words are a lie as soon as he says them, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Things would’ve been so much easier if I hadn’t. Then I wouldn’t have to remember that yellow sweater you loved so much. That silly apron you wore just because the kids decorated it.”

He can see it in his mind, a plain white apron the kid’s got from some craft store, paint markers used to decorate the front. It wasn’t written in a straight line but El had put Hawkins Best Babysitter smack in the center; all the kids had written their names beside it – even Mike, which had surprised Steve when he noticed the tiny lettering near the bottom. 

“You and your stupid -” Eddie hiccups, a sob trying to escape him as he talks. “Stevie...how am I supposed to do this without you?”

Silence is his only answer, the picture in his hands offering a frozen frame of Steve grinning with his arms around Eddie and Robin’s shoulders. Jonathan took it when they all came to see Eddie’s first performance after the Upside Down. The Eddie in the picture is sweaty but smiling, eyes focused on the man next to him. Robin’s grinning in the photo, eyes almost closed from how big. He and Steve finally put an end to their dancing around each other that night. 

“I should have walked away when I had the chance.” Tears are rolling down Eddie’s cheeks now but there’s no point in wiping his face when he knows they’re not going to stop any time soon. Steve’s gone now – Eddie can’t imagine not crying every time he has remember that. 

“But you were so different from how I imagined. I thought you only cared about yourself, jut went along with whatever your friends said...Seeing and getting to know you up close? It’s like finding the perfect patch of sunlight to lay in – being under the shade of a tree is nice, but nothing compares to soaking up the sun with your friends. You were the sun.” 

A few months after the Upside Down, Steve had suggested a pool party at his house. Something to celebrate Max and Eddie finally out of the hospital and working through their recoveries. All the kids had jumped at the chance and Steve spent the next week planning the day out in detail. Eddie got to see Steve’s nervousness up close: a chicken scratch grocery list added to every time he thought of another snack, his pacing of the aisles at Family Video to rent movies they’d all enjoy, him cleaning the pool early that morning, and even his busy-ness as a host – running this way and that so no one had to want for something. At one point, the kids had started a chicken tournament with Nancy playing referee. Steve had laid back on one of the pool chairs with dark sunglasses hiding his eyes, and Eddie had been pulled like a magnet to sit next to the other boy. He hopes he never forgets the smile Steve gifted him with when he sat down. 

“Eddie? You in here?” Wayne’s voice traveled through the apartment, boots stomping until he found Eddie in the living room. 

“Wayne..” His voice cracked and a new flood of tears escaped. This time he did try to brush them away, palms swiping angrily at his cheeks. Eddie knew he looked a mess, could imagine the red puffiness around his eyes and his hair wild from where he’d tugged at it earlier. Wayne closed the distance between them, sitting on the couch next to Eddie only for a moment before tugging his boy to lean on his shoulder. Eddie wasn’t a little kid anymore but he took the comfort and curled as small as he could.

“He’s gone, Wayne.” He’s sobbing so hard he chokes, coughing before continuing. “He’s gone.” That’s all he can get out, mind a mess as he cries into Wayne’s shirt. He can feel his Uncle shaking with his own silent tears, Steve was like a son to him. 

His uncle sounds choked when he speaks again. “C’mon, breathe for me, boy.” Eddie doesn’t want to and briefly wonders if he can hold his breath long enough to pass out. He won’t do it, chest already heaving with the effort it takes to inhale. 

He just wants Steve to be here with them. Not gone where he can’t follow, not stuck in the hospital with different machines keeping him alive, not anywhere but here. 

Here in the trailer he called home the past year. 

Here with Wayne on the couch watching some sports game Eddie can’t follow. 

Here sipping on a mug of hot chocolate when it’s cold outside. 

Here talking on the phone with Robin with the cord curled around his hand.

But Steve will never be here again. Not physically anyway – no, Steve will only exist in Eddie’s memory and Eddie will have to exist with a Steve Harrington shaped hole in his heart.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

“Look,” hasan huffs, his longs between his ear and shoulder, “i don’t fuckin know either.” he watches the water boiling that’s threatening to over boil and spill onto the oven any second, “but my girl all but asked for it, so-“

the person on the other line snorts, which makes hasan roll his eyes. they speak first:

“my girl,” the voice mocks, “i thought you hated valentine’s day-“

“fuck valentine’s day.” hasan confirms with a nod, even though they can’t see him.

“right,” the other voice, Mike, confirms, “So if it’s fuck Valentine’s then why in the world are we celebrating it, much less cooking. you’re a horrible fucking cook, actually-“

“thanks for the confidence, dude,” Hasan huffs, just as water pours over the side of the pan and bubbles onto the stove. “fuck, i’ll call you back.”

he doesn’t give him time to answer before chucking the phone on the counter, running over to turn the flame down.

“no,no, no, no. fuck, dude.”

he grabs the spoon, stirs around what’s left in the pot before groaning.

this was suppose to be perfect. this has to be perfect.

look, hasan doesn’t like valentine’s day. in fact, he borders on hating it, but when he met her, when she talked about how romantic the holiday was, the small gestures were so nice-well, she had a way to make people fall in love. hasan knows this first hand.

hasan knows she’s due to his door any minute. she was so fucking excited to text him-hasan hasn’t noticed he chewed his nails so low, was so anxious about getting it right for once.

he checks the flowers on the counter, with the obnoxious bow he re did again and again until his fingers ached and throbbed-thirty minutes ago, they seemed perfect-the most ideal flowers he could find. now, as shadows cast in the small apartment he imagines the leaves are more wilted, the browning spots

he grabs his phone, seconds away from cancelling, asking for a second chance (ignoring the part of him that aches at the idea of not seeing her, much less disappointing her, but he has to get it right, needs to)

the knock is quiet, but loud enough to set Kaya off, loud barks echo through his house.

“fuck!”

he wipes his hands at the apron around his waist, stained from the failed meal he tried to create-her favorite, something he had never heard before but mentioned on a date that he scribbled on a stained cocktail napkin and shoved deep into his jeans- he takes a second, checks his hair in the mirror by the door, messed form his hands running though it, opens the door before he can overthink it.

“Hey!” she smiles, standing straight when she sees him, “happy valentine’s day!”

she also looks nervous, a small bag in her hands that she has a death grip on. she invites herself further into the house before she can regret it, pulls him by his shirt for their lips to collide, crash into one another.

he giggles: “what’s that about?”

his face is bright pink and he fumbles with his glasses like he does when he’s nervous. she shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t thinking about it the entire drive over here:

“missed you, is all. it’s the best holiday after all.”

his hand is tangled into hers as he leads to the kitchen.

“listen,” he sighs, “i fucked dinner up-“

she immediately goes to the scene of the crime, grabbing the spoon and half empty packets of food, immediately going to work.

“it’s suppose to be valentine’s day,” he groans, “you aren’t suppose to do the work.”

she rolls his eyes: “valentine’s day doesn’t mean i can’t cook-and no, it doesn’t make you sexist for making me cook, before you say it.”

“grab some cheese,” she hums, turning the flame back on the stove and stirring the water, “you didn’t ruin it, i promise.”

hasan obeys, grabs the ingredients, comes back and carefully, slowly, the apron goes around your head, can feel as his hands grab the back of it and ties it for you.

“co chef.” you insist, “this is perfect.”

“this isn’t how i imagined valentine’s day.” he sighs, tries to hide how disappointed he is.

“really?” she says carefully, “this is just how i imagined it. this is perfect.”

“you’re just saying that.”

instead, his hand snake around her waist, his head fits right in the crook of her neck, peppering kisses there.

“happy valentine’s day.” it comes out quietly, unsure, from him.

she reads his mind:

“it’s perfect.” she smiles instead. “happy valentine’s day.”

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby: Part 15

a/n: There are only going to be about 3 more parts to this story I think. Also I have another fic planned with Jake. :)

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1400 ish

Summary: Meet the rest of Jake’s Fam

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When you pull up at Jake's parents house you can see George and Tammy waiting on the front porch looking at you expectantly. “Do they know?” You look up at Jake. He smiles sheepishly and nods. You clasp his hand in yours and when you reach the top of the stairs you hold out your left hand to them. 

Tammy screams in excitement and comes running. You go to step away to let her hug her son but it is you she pulls into her arms. She doesn't say anything, just holds you close and when you go to pull away she just squeezes you tighter, and you melt into her arms. It’s a hug from a mother, something you hadn't realized how much you missed. You can feel the tears rolling down your face as you hide your emotions in her shoulder. 

You miss your parents every day, but a sad, bitter part of you took comfort that they never had to see you get your heart broken by Ian. Standing here with Jake's ring on your finger and Tammy’s arms around you, you wish they could be with you now. To see the future you had rebuilt with the man by your side.

When you do eventually pull back she brushes the tears off your cheeks with her thumbs. “I’m so happy to have you as my daughter-in-law.” Your smile is teary and she pulls you back into a hug. “I always wanted another daughter after Julia quit dressing Jake up in dresses.” At your questioning laughter she just smiles, “I’ll show you the pictures.” 

She finally releases you and pulls a stick out of your hair as she does. Holding it up to you she winks and throws it off the deck. She turns to hug Jake and George comes over and wraps you in a hug. He gives you a squeeze that causes you to let out a little squeak before placing a kiss on the top of your head and lets you go. “I’m so glad you said yes.”

“He said yes to me,” you laugh, “I asked him first!”

“How come you never asked permission to marry my son.” His stern expression momentarily has you taken aback before you notice it does not reach his eyes.

“Your son is a strong independent man, and we will not submit to the patriarchy.” Your answer causes George to let out a snort of laughter. 

“I think you will remember that I asked first.” Jake's interruption has you frowning at him. 

“No, I distinctly remember asking you first.”

“But you never said the words Kisses.” Jake has a shit eating grin on his face. You open your mouth to retort but close it when you realize he is right. Your insistence on teasing him has resulted in him being able to say he was the one who proposed for the rest of your life together. You try to glare at him in mock anger but soon you are laughing and throw up your hands in defeat. 

Tammy cackles, “Enjoy it while it lasts Jake, I don’t think you will win often.” She ushers the two of you inside to get cleaned up for dinner before Jake’s sisters arrive. 

When you and Jake come downstairs after your shower, Jake's sister Julia and her husband Mike are there. “I knew there was someone out there smart enough to lock this idiot down.” Julia greets you while putting Jake in a headlock that he gently untangles himself from. “Now for the real reason I’m here,” She turns to you with an intense look on her face. “Did you have to undergo my mothers ‘No Sex in the House’ talk?” 

“Yes, it was mortifying, thank you for that.” Jules grins at Mike at your response. 

“You have been avenged, my dear.” She pats her husband on the arm and you chuckle before you are interrupted by a child's shriek. 

“Uncle Jake!” A small blonde girl comes running and leaps into Jake's arms. Jake swings her around in a hug before setting her back down. 

“Evie!” You have heard so much about the little girl in Jake’s arms and can't help but smile at how he interacts with the child. “Eves, I want you to meet someone.” Jake introduces you and you feel more nervous meeting Evie than you did Jake's parents. “I’m going to marry her.” Jake whispers in the girl's ear.

“Did he get you a nice ring?” You grin at the imperious question.

“He did,” you hold out your hand and show her your ring. “I got him one too,” you motion Jake over and he also holds out his ring for her appraisal and she nods in approval at both rings.

Evie smiles sweetly up at you. “Well I’m glad he finally got around to asking you to marry him.” She says, rolling her eyes at her uncle. “He bought that ring forever ago.” With that she joins Tammy and George in the kitchen.

“You discuss your dating life with your seven year old niece?” you look at Jake in exasperation.

“No, she’s eight now.” Jake says indignantly. “Also she badgers me every time I talk to her, asking if I have a girlfriend and won’t change the subject until I answer. When I told her about you she immediately started asking when I would propose.”

“I put her up to it,” Julia smiles proudly. “He never tells me anything, but Evie has him wrapped around her finger.”

“Judas.” Jake mutters in mock horror under his breath and everyone laughs. 

“Show her the pictures of Jake,” Tammy's voice carries in from the kitchen. Julia grabs a photo album from the shelf and sits beside you on the couch, Jake sitting on your other side. Inside are pictures of Jake from when he was about three years old until around nine. In every one of them he is wearing a dress and in some of them makeup. 

In most he is alone, in some he is with Julia, and some with Stacy who is usually wearing jeans and another girl around Julia's age who can only be Stacy's sister. Why?” you ask giggling at the pictures. 

“Julia asked so I said yes, and when I told her I didn’t want to anymore she stopped.” Jake just shrugs. “It made her happy, and she would sneak me snacks from the shelves I couldn't reach.”

You smile fondly at Jake, thinking of all the things he did for you just because you asked. “She didn’t blackmail you with the Big Secret you promised to tell me.” you raise your eyebrows and Jake sighs.

“You know the broken plate in the glass case in the kitchen?” You think for a moment before nodding, leaning in to hear Jake’s soft voice. “It's over 120 years old. My moms family bought it from Europe.” Your jaw drops, already connecting the dots of what happened to the plate. 

“I hit it off an open shelf with a nerf dart when I was nine.” Jake glances at the door with a guilty expression. “Mom had this old cat that she loved almost as much as us.” 

“Jake you didn’t!” you gasp in horror.

He nods sadly, “It was spring so the cat was shedding and I took some fur and kinda wedged it in with the broken plate.”

“That's when I caught him,” Jules says with relish. “Blackmail for the rest of his life. Mom never did love the cat the same. Jake tried to make up for it but the cat never really cared for him.”

You can't help the sad little laugh that comes out at that, picturing Jake trying to apologize to the cat he framed. There is a commotion at the door and Jake’s  sister Jessie walks in with her girlfriend, Kate. Introductions are made and you ask Kate if she has ever received Tammy’s ‘No Sex in the House’ talk.

“She tried,” Kate says, with a conspiratorial grin. “I asked her if it only counted as sex if I used a strap on or if fingering counted as well and she started laughing and gave up.”

[inklessletter]

You drew stars (around my scars) - Part 2

BONUS SCENE (from this little one)

They dropped the Hellfire members at their respective front doors and then they drove to Loch Nora. The ride to Steve’s house was quiet. Eddie worried his bottom lip, glancing at Steve every now and then, thinking that maybe something happened between him and Mike (Eddie saw the two of them having what looked like the most awkward conversation ever) and if it were his fault, if he overstepped. Was Mike being a little shit again?

“How’s Super Star?” Eddie asked, ice-breaker.

“Growing too fast. She’s learning subtractions now, and she can spell all our names correctly. Look.” Steve took out from his pocket a folded piece of paper with some names in childish calligraphy.

“Oh, your name has little stars around,” Eddie teased, grinning softly. “Please, tell me that you did not charm another Wheeler.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “More like she charmed me.”

Eddie waited. When he saw Steve looking at his knees with a soft and sad smile, he knew that he had something to say.

“What’s wrong, big boy?”

Eddie pulled over at Steve’s driveway, and they both unfastened their belts.

“We were playing, fooling around, you know and she—um, she lifted my shirt.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

Steve looked at him and smiled. He lifted the shirt slightly, showing him his all painted over belly. His eyes were glassy.

“She thinks they’re pretty. Says they are stars.”

Eddie looked at Steve’s stomach open mouthed, smiling.

“They do look like stars, though.”

“Yeah, right? I didn’t notice before.”

Looking down, with a smile on his lips, Steve mumbled. “I guess they’re pretty.”

Eddie looked him in the eyes, cupping his face.

“You’re pretty. Always were, always will.”

Steve kissed him once, twice.

They climbed out of the van and went to Steve’s front door.

“By the way, did you say something to Mike?” Steve asked.

“Me? Why, what happened?” Eddie played dumb, Steve deadpanned, keys in hand.

“He was super weird, I think he tried to apologize. And I know you threatened Dustin, so I was wondering if this change of attitude came because of another threat.”

Eddie smiled impishly, dimples showing.

“My bad.”

“Eddie, we talked about this, you can’t go threatening kids around. Besides, I really wished you didn’t.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Eddie crossed his arms, staring at Steve. Steve smirked.

“Because I might have been training Super Star for a few months now to fuck with him, as a little revenge. She hides things from him, she takes his alarms off, you know, little pranks like those. If he starts treating me nice now, I’m gonna feel bad.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open.

“You are the reason he keeps running late everywhere, and losing every dice set he buys?” Eddie almost shouted, all dramatic. Steve stared at him, opening the front door.

“Wait until he finds out about the D&D figurines.”

Steve disappeared inside the house. Eddie was frozen in the spot. From his place, Eddie saw Steve holding the piece of paper with magnets in the fridge, with a fond smile. “Steve Harrington, you’re the devil! Please, marry me and let’s have twenty kids!”

[georgiapeach30513]

The One to Sacrifice, Part 3

Summary: being here is getting to you.

Pairings: Raleigh Becket X Reader, Johnny Storm X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, mentions of cheating, mentions of secrets, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

The moment your father had told you the pond had been scraped you were ready to get back on the ice, but you had responsibilities now, and they involved making sure your niece was taken care of. Everyone else’s lives got to go on living like they always did, but yours changed the moment that Mike had passed away. You became her sole caretaker. Her confidant. Her shoulder to cry on. Her everything.

“So I get to play hockey here?” She looks up at you sleepily. So far Tanzy had enjoyed being here. You had your doubts. Hopefully it would make taking care of yourself easier. As far as your personal life went, it was much more difficult. Small towns had the tendency to do that.

“Yes, darling, now go to sleep,” you whisper, giving a kiss to her forehead.

“Did my dad love hockey?”

“Your dad and uncle Frank loved hockey. Him, Frank, Johnny, and…”

“That man that brought us home?” She peeks up through her lashes at you with the most mischievous grin, and you just nod. “Did you ever kiss him?”

“Go to sleep,” your voice is a bit more animated, but it doesn’t raise. Playfully covering her eyes she starts giggling uncontrollably. “Tanzy!”

“What? He’s cute. You should kiss him,” you roll your eyes, and settle back on her bed. You need to go out on the ice, so whatever it took for her to settle down, you’d do. “He’s nice, too. He drove us home.”

“Uh huh,” you give a fake yawn that you know she doesn't believe, but you can’t help it. It was late, and you were emotionally exhausted, and only one thing helped. You can already feel the tingle of the chill on your cheeks.

“Did you love him?” Tanzy breaks your daydreaming of just moving on the ice. Giving you the softest and knowing smile as she looks up at you.

“Young love,” you agree. You loved Raleigh in your way, although you never loved him the way he loved you. You didn’t even understand what love was. And then some stupid boy with blue eyes that had the most beautiful bit green in them stole your heart, and you didn’t have the balls to break up with Raleigh.

“You should try again,” she lets out a little yawn, flipping over onto her side. “I don’t want you to be alone like daddy was,” she yawns again, waving her hand at you, “I’m good, go skate.”

This child. She knew that you needed to skate, “Love you, Tanz.”

“Love you, too,” she could very much be faking her sleepiness. She’s done it before. But she wasn’t a baby anymore. She was growing.

With a sigh, you run into the mud room, and grab your things. Putting your skates on sitting on the bench by the pond. Remembering a simpler time and skating with your brothers. Inhaling the frosty air with a smile. Skating on the pond brought back so many memories. A less complicated life. Joy. Laughter. Love.

Making a few rounds on the ice, you try to not think, just exist. Focus on your feet and legs as you launch into the air. Not think about everything that happened. Too much had happened. And even more was bubbling up to the surface, and there was more you hoped never would.

Spinning around, you let the world melt away. Let everything blur out in front of you, but then you feel Johnny’s hands on your body. Blurring into puppy love with Raleigh. Someone you didn’t have to hide. Mike would have killed you. He threatened to kill Johnny when he found out.

You come to a stop in the middle of the ice. Your chest heaving with frustration more than exertion. You really knew how to fuck up things. It’s why you prefer to push people away. Coming back home was smothering you. The only one you couldn’t run away from was Tanzy; because she needs you. Who else would take care of her?

On the one hand was this toxic love based on passion and your bodies. A fire that burned too brightly, leaving you with nothing left but ashes. On the other hand was someone you could make a life with. A life here in a small town in Maine. Things weren’t complicated with Raleigh until…Johnny.

You aren’t even sure you loved Johnny, you just wanted him. Wanted everything he had to offer, and he had big dreams and stars in his eyes that were the same as yours. But he made it. He didn’t sacrifice anything. Kept living his life, and pretending like Tanzy didn’t exist. Mike had counted on him, and he failed. Again.

You take off quickly just wanting to get in the air, and get your mind off — them. You didn’t want either of them quite frankly, and yet they were still both here. What were the odds that Johnny was being forced to be a coach to a girls’ hockey team? And you sigh as your body spins around because there’s a part of you that is lying. You did want something. Honesty, possibly.

You have to think of anything but them. Think about what would have happened if you decided to have a partner. The only one you had ever skated with was Raleigh. You’d giggle as he’d lift you up in the air, and twirl you around. You should have kept things simple, despite his push to turn romantic. No, it was his ability to make you laugh and feel comfortable. Raleigh should have had all your firsts.

You try to imagine a life where things didn’t get fucked up. Where Raleigh came with you to Minnesota. Mike could have still been alive. Tanzy would have had her father, and you would have had your big brother.

You imagine him as your partner. Practically could feel his hands back in yours as you skate around the pond. Life could have been different. Maybe you wouldn’t be thinking about these constant what if’s in your head.

“You…”

“Ahh,” you fall down on the ice, and glare up at Raleigh who stops so abruptly he falls over as well. “What are you doing?”

He sits up, placing both arms on his knees as he gives you that quintessential Raleigh Becket smile, “I came to apologize,” he tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. “I spent all this time feeling like I didn’t get any closure, and…dammit, Pix, I should have been there for you.”

”What?” Your head turns to look at him quickly. Confusion doesn’t even explain what you’re feeling. Or the secrets you were hiding. How did they fit in with Raleigh?

“When Mike died. I shouldn’t have offered my help, I should have just been there. You quit your dream to raise a child that wasn’t your own.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Would you stop,” you look at him confused. What exactly did he mean with that? “You don’t have to be a martyr. You don’t have to do this all alone. You shouldn’t have done it alone. Tanzy…you’ve done a good job on her. You should have had a support system.”

A silence looms between the two of you. Never even getting off the ice. You look up at the stars, and whisper out a thanks to him. Starting to lean into his body a bit before your head lays over on his shoulder. The best thing about Raleigh is the comfort.

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

“Is that an invitation?” He can feel the smile that creeps up on your mouth, and you feel the chuckle building up in his chest that he doesn’t want to release. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Is this a Storm thing?” You groan, starting to lift off his shoulder, but he pulls you back down. “Did he mean anything to you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did I?”

You’re unsure how to answer. Because he did mean a lot to you. Johnny is complicated for various reasons. And you have told yourself he meant nothing to you for a long time, but you fear it is to protect yourself the most. Because at the end of the day, you felt like a conquest to Johnny. An easy lay. A virgin.

Raleigh whispers your name, lifting you up to look at him, “Did I mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” you answer with the utmost sincerity. He smiles with glassy eyes, and you hate yourself for the pain you caused him. Not just the lack of closure but the fact he found out about his girlfriend cheating on him. “I loved you. You were my best friend.”

“Why did you do it?” You shrug your shoulders, removing your gaze from his heavy stare. It is too intense, and you can’t fully handle the way he is looking at you. Clinging to any hope you can offer him. “Don’t look away.”

“I don’t know. I told you…it was…”

“You,” he takes a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully. It was years ago, and the pain is still there. Wedged deep inside of him because he didn’t doubt the way he felt. He was completely in love with you then, and nothing had changed. “Because of a school girl crush. He was your first.”

“He was my only,” that didn’t offer much comfort, but you see his face relax a bit. His hands cup your cheeks, leaning his forehead into yours. “Raleigh, I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you didn’t deserve him, his forgiveness, or any of his kindness. But you melt into it. It was the first time in so long you have felt comforted. No one ever bothered to check on you, and even if they did, Raleigh just knew. The the need to run away from everything seems to have stopped. You didn’t want to run anymore. You are tired. “Can we start over?”

“I don’t know what that means, Raleigh,” his eyes flick down to your lips, and you know without him saying anything. “Clarify.”

“Start from the beginning. Forget anything happened.”

“You’re suggesting we’re more than friends?”

“I’m suggesting I want you in my life. I’ve missed you, and my feelings haven’t changed,” if you made friends with girls, maybe they would have told you that he was a man that had never moved on, and that should be a red flag. But you didn’t move on either. You had no desire to make a choice. And at the time there was only one choice you could make. So you ran. You pushed everything into your career, and didn’t let any of those emotions bubble up to the surface. No one knew, and you repressed everything. You didn’t want them to know. You didn’t want to know.

“At your pace.”

“Remind me?” Your mouth tips up in a smile, hoping he didn’t forget what it meant. With a smile that matches your own, his eyes flutter close, and he presses his lips against yours. No one moves, and the kiss is warm and lingering. You still aren’t sure if you ever loved him the way he loved you. Or the way he deserved, but you hope you find it.

You settle into his arms, snuggling closer, and feeling at least comfort. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t love, but it was…something.

“Tanzy, why are you still awake?” Tanzy looks back at her uncle, shushing him before her eyes go back to the ice. “Oh…they didn’t waste time,” he rolls his eyes as he sits down beside his niece. Giving you and his best friend an eye roll. The two of you embrace in a hug before you stand up, and start skating around the ice.

Laughter fills the winter air with a lightness that he hasn’t seen in his friend in a long time. The two of you fall in sync, partnering up, and going with the flow. He sighs as Tanzy flips around in her bed. “They kissed.”

“It wasn’t their first time.”

“But it was like a real kiss,” Frank chuckles, reaching over to pull the covers over both him and Tanzy. “She never kissed anyone back home. I never saw a boy.”

“Don’t make sense out of your aunt.”

“She deserves to have fun. She’s a good aunt. She worked a lot. I never saw her on the ice. And now we’re here, and she’s laughing, and — they were in love, huh?” Frank shrugs his shoulders, retching while Tanzy watches her uncle curiously. “What?”

“Thinking about Raleigh and my sister is weird. He’s a good guy, but it’s…gross. But I know he’s never looked at a woman like he does Pixie.”

“Be happy for her. She didn’t smile a lot. She’s always thinking.”

“About what?” Tanzy yawns, and starts to snuggle into his body, just like she used to with her dad. She didn’t ever want to forget him. But most of what she remembered was through someone else’s memory. “Your dad?”

“No. She has secrets, Frank. Secrets that make her sad.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’m just a kid. Her and dad whispered a lot. She cried a lot, and then she had to take care of me,” she yawns again, and her words get softer. Quieter. “Let her be happy.”

“Go to sleep, and I’ll try,” he gives another quick glance outside, but looks away quickly. You weren’t so much skating as holding onto each other. That weird thing the two of you did when you just touched foreheads together and looked at one another.

Secrets. You had secrets that made you sad. You did leave, and not tell Raleigh goodbye. Wouldn’t return his calls. You didn’t like the idea of “Johnny,” Frank groans. Johnny did something. He always did.

“You and the mechanic,” Tanzy starts to tease you, but you turn around to look at her shaking your head. She was supposed to be getting her gear ready for hockey practice. “Uh huh, I saw you.”

“Skating together is nothing to get too excited about,” after a bit of sleep, you realize that even just a slight peck of a kiss was a horrible idea. Raleigh clearly is still in the zone of everything is perfect, and he can be perfect just for you. It isn’t that you doubt that. But you have only just arrived and there are still so many things swirling in your head, and you are drowning in thoughts. You need to skate, and every time you did there was a man.

“Yeah, but you didn’t just skate. I saw you,” she gives you the sweet mischievous grin that makes you think of Mike, and you can’t even be mad at her. She had this attitude just like Mike and Johnny, always into something, and always ready for a good time.

“I remember now why I hated your dad’s room right there.”

“Why because he watched you kiss that man, too?” Wrapping a hand around her stomach she lets a wave of giggles rush over her. Head leaning back, and you try — try not to laugh with her, but you can’t. She already seems happier here than she did. Being around family is good for her, and a bit suffocating for you.

“Raleigh did watch me skate a lot.”

“Did Johnny?”

“Now what kind of question is that?” Tanzy shrugs her shoulders as she lifts up a duffle bag. “Why would you ask about Johnny?”

“Why are you getting so defensive about Johnny? It was first the mechanic, and now him. Did you kiss Johnny, too? Like the Johnny Storm, did you kiss him?” You stepped right into that. You couldn’t blame her for being curious, but your relationship with Johnny was for nobody’s ears. You buried that and the memories a long time ago.

“Go on, get into the car. Gimma is waiting for us,” you car still hasn't been fixed. You didn’t doubt that Raleigh could, but he of course had other cars ahead of you. With a deep sigh, you watch Tanzy jump into the car with your mom, and you look around the kitchen. Nothing had changed. It brought you a bit of comfort, and still there was that tad of unease that always lingered in places where memories of your brother were the strongest.

Nothing is ever easy here because some things just never change, despite how much is always changing. Just take a deep breath, and go.

Trudging out to your mom’s car makes you feel like a child again, especially going to the rink. You fasten your seatbelt, and look in the rear view mirror, and the sly smile on Tanzy’s face lets you know she’s not letting this go.

“You should invite Raleigh for dinner.”

“Tanzy!”

“He was most likely going to come anyway. I have to make sure all my boys are fed. Him and Frank mosey on in. It would be nice for…” Tanzy starts laughing uncontrollably as your mom rattles on.

“It would be nice if you guys wouldn’t make a big deal about it. Raleigh and I…”

“Yes, yes,” your mom looks at you with an exasperated look. It isn’t the first time that she’s had this conversation with you. “You and Raleigh have always skated together. And skating together always leads to him crawling into your bedroom and watching movies until you pass out, and I tell him to please use the front door instead.”

You glance towards her looking ashamed. You had no idea she actually knew about that. “I allowed him to stay because he made my ice princess happy. I could hear you guys laughing, and you almost never stopped talking, so I didn’t think anything was going on. And then when you actually were dating — honey, nothing ever happened?”

“Tanzy is in the car.”

“I know about kissing!”

“What I mean is you shouldn’t have to stay in your head. Raleigh gave you something more to talk about than skating. He opened up your cold heart. I heard you laugh, and weren’t repeating your routine obnoxiously over and over again. Raleigh made you human, and I hate to think that someone who was your best friend,” starting to interrupt, she covers your mouth with her hand, “I know he and Frank are close, but those two didn’t have what you two had.”

“It would be really weird if they did. I’m glad to know that everyone thinks I’m…”

“Icy,” you shoot a playful glance back at Tanzy, but try to laugh. You weren’t the most personable human in the world, and you never had been. But there is a part of what your mom is saying is right. You did feel differently around Raleigh. He was able to bring out the best of you.

“Well there he is,” your mom smiles and gives Johnny a wave as she pulls into the rink. No one was here. “Tell Johnny I said hey, and he should come by for dinner tonight, and…”

“No!” She looks taken aback as you shout at her. “Just — not yet. We don’t even know how he’s going to be with his goddaughter,” you take a deep breath, and hold your head up high as you get out of the car. Giving a wave to your mom as you give Johnny a terse nod. He’s so full of himself, his smile just gets larger.

He gives your mom a friendly wave, and his hand presses on Tanzy’s back, “Why don’t you go ahead and dress out, there’s some things I’d like to discuss with your aunt.”

“Are you wanting to kiss her, too? Aunt Pixie, you’ve got all the boys,” she gives a little giggle as she runs into the rink, and you follow right behind her.

“Let me guess, you were kissing that Neanderthal Raleigh?” You don’t answer, just walk right into the rink, and have a deep need to skate on its smooth surface. “Wow, okay. So, you won’t give me the time of day even though I know what you taste like, but you’ll let that man kiss you in front of Tanzy.”

Spinning around you glare at him, “That got your attention, ice princess. What does Raleigh have that I don’t? I got the bigger bank account.”

“And you got the bigger head.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you,” you shove his shoulder. This is what always irritated you about him; his ease at getting under your skin. “You didn’t even give me the time of day, but you let that man kiss you?”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you couldn’t have any girl that you wanted. And you have. Raleigh is…”

“Hung up on you. We both know it. Did you tell him about us? About how I couldn’t keep my hands off you, and you were just as needy for me?”

“I thought you needed to talk to me about something. Where is everyone?” You did not need to go down this road again. You just wanted for Tanzy to practice, and you to eventually go home, and away from him. He is your kryptonite.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers before he starts walking towards the ice. “Has Tanzy ever played?” You shake your head no, sitting down on a bench, and he joins you. Too close. Just to prove you don’t like the closeness, you scoot away. “Her dad was Mike Weiss, and you didn’t put her in hockey?”

“I was struggling to feed us both, and you wanted me to put her in an expensive sport that I couldn’t afford?”

“You could have told me,” see this is the reason you easily fall for Johnny. There’s something in the way he looks at you, actually concerned. “That’s why you’re back, money?”

“Kids are expensive, even more so when you’re on their own. Her godfather didn’t reach out, so I just made do. And now I’m back in. Back here wallowing in the past, and…”

“You always were so melodramatic. It’s not that serious. You’re here getting help and support. Who fucking cares?” You cared. Your pride cared, and he called you melodramatic. “Keep the drama for the ice. It’s what I do, baby. You don’t have to have all that shit swirling in your head while you try to make sense out of everything. We had fun, right? So you cheated on some chump that was obsessed with you. How come you never had sex with him? Am I the only one? You look better when you keep your issues on the ice, and let me do the thinking for you.”

“That doesn’t fix everything.”

“Does constantly worrying about it?” You still. If there was anything you always admired about Johnny was his ability to not care. “Pix, can I be honest with you?”

“You always are. Even if I don’t want you to.”

“You’re wound too tight. You always have been. That’s why we…well, you wanted me to teach you. I did, and for a few months you relaxed. You skated better than you ever had before, and then you just — poof. I wasn’t heartbroken, but that man you are kissing was. So if you want me to relax you, get rid of him. Or use him to relax you. Either way, get laid,” you stutter a moment, as you hear the locker room door slam shut.

“Unless you want to tell me what really happened. Because believe me when I say this, Pix, something happened. Between you and me, and you’re hiding from it. You don’t have to tell me, but if it’s something that keeps you this stressed, and made my best friend yell and cuss at me, well…that’s your call since Mike can’t explain shit.”

You start to say something. Anything. But Johnny stands up, and gives a nod to Tanzy. “I know I’m an asshole. But while I’m here, I could be your asshole. And I’d like to get to know the squirt. And offer coaching. One on one. Pix, I’m not the evil monster you want me to be. I’m just a prick,” he reaches down to pick up his skates, leaving you wondering what exactly was going on inside your head, and if you made a bigger deal than things. Just like you always did.

Take out the men. And think about just you. You have to take responsibility for your actions. No one can but you. You may be sticking your foot in your mouth, but Johnny deserved to know Tanzy. “You should come by for supper sometime. You and Tanzy can skate on the pond.”

“I haven’t skated on that pond in years. What do you say, squirt, want me to start giving private lessons?”

“What about practice?” She asks, looking around to see everything is still empty. He set you up, but this will make her so happy.

“Practice doesn’t actually start until tomorrow, but we can get some skating in. Pix? Care to join us?” You shake your head no, wanting more than ever to just see Johnny with her. Watching as he actually laughs at things she says, enjoying her. It’s a shame he had all this time without her, and she with him. It just works.

You feel a slight ping in your heart as you watch them, giving your mom a text that there wasn’t actually practice today and she could pick you up.

I knew. Johnny said he could bring you two home.

Of course he did. Of course she knew. It’s fine. It was okay. Get out of your head. That was years ago. Raleigh would have to get used to Johnny being in your life. For Tanzy. And that’s how you wanted to keep it. For Tanzy.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmaii @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @charmed-asylum @cjand10 @rosemirrors @midnightramyeoncravings @patzammit @valhalla-kristin @kmc1989 @peaceinourtime82 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

[thepladinsheart]

Byler, El and the folklore love triangle.

Taylor Swift’s 7th studio album, “folklore” (along with the sister album “evermore”) has written between the lines a love triangle between one teenage boy, James and two teenage girls, Betty and Augustine.

Taylor herself has said, “Betty and James end up together but he {James} put her {Betty} through it.” 

However, the way byler and El tie into this is slightly different. 

The way the folklore love triangle works is like this, James and Betty were together and had some sort of falling out. Then, James went away for a summer and cheated on Betty with Augustine. But, after that summer, James basically ends up ghosting Augustine because he realizes that he really messed up with Betty and needs to make things right. So, he shows up to a party she was having and the kiss and makeup and start dating again and “end up together.”

Now that you know what the folklore love triangle is, I can tell you how Byler and El fits into all of this. 

How I think this works is Mike is James, Will is Betty and El is Augustine. And here is why.

James is obviously Mike because he is the one stuck between the two “girls”. The “girls” in this situation being Will and El. he can’t choose whether to be unhappy in his relationship or pursue the person he wants but hurt the girl he is with and put a target on his back. 

Will being Betty just makes the most sense. Will has been there from the very start. Even though Mike and Will obviously never canonically dated, they’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Also, Mike and Will have had SEVERAL falling outs and the one that always crawls back to Will is Mike, begging him forgiveness. 

 Now time to talk about El. Please don't get me wrong, I LOVE El. Please do not think that I am one of those bylers that hate El. I don’t. However, El is Augustine. She has simply not been there as long as Will has been. She is basically just a distraction for Mike in a romantic sense. Hear me out, Mike is using El as a shield to hide behind. So he can hide from his internalized homophobia. I am NOT saying that he thinks of El as an object. But it’s more on head, he’s thinking that he can’t possibly have feelings for Will because he has a girlfriend. And if he has a girlfriend, he can't be picked on. He can’t be a target. 

TIME FOR LYRIC ANALYSIS!!! 

Cardigan 

Cardigan is the song that tells Betty’s side of the story from her perspective. Which in this form is Will's side of the story from his perspective. 

“I knew you.” 

Like I’ve said many many times Will has been there from the very beginning. Like, he was the first friend Mike ever had. 

“A friend to all is a friend to none. Chase two girls, lose the one.” 

I’m sure one of the many reasons Mike doesn’t want to break up with El and confess his feelings to Will (atleast right now in the canon) is because he could and probably will lose both of them. Because if he breaks up with El, that’s already enough grounds for losing her not to mention the whole part about being in love with her brother. Mike could also loose Will because he could reject Mike for the sake of saving El’s feelings.

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on an said I was your favorite.” 

Mike has always been the first one to notice when anything with Will is off, the first one to find him when he’s wandered off while in an episode. He has been “the only one who cares about Will” from the start. 

“I knew you. Leaving like a father, running like water.” 

We all know that Mike runs from all of his problems and won’t stop running until he falls off the face of the Earth. But Will doesn't know why he’s running from him. 

“But I knew you’d linger like a tattooed kiss. I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s.” 

Will knows better than anyone that the feeling of Mike lingers. It stays and it won’t go anyway and it’s bittersweet. 

“I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired and you'd be standing in front of my front porch light.” 

Whether Will liked it or not, he knew that Mike would be coming back sooner rather than later. And he wanted that way. He didn’t want to push Mike away. It would be impossible to push away the person that he has called his best friend all his life and the boy that has been with his sister for years. 

August

This song reprents Augustine perpective of the whole situation which would equalivlate to El.

“‘Cause you were never mine.”

I don’t think that El is stupid, she has to know or have somewhat of a feeling.  But also, I feel like she knows that Mike would be better off with Will. And, honestly, I think she’ll be better with someone else who actually listens to what she needs. I do not think that El and Mike are good for eachother is a romantic way. They aren't loving eachother they way both of them need it.

“I remember thinking I had you.” 

I think that in retrospect, it’s funny to El all of the things she tolerated from Mike. And I think when Mike and El break up she will realize that they simply weren't right for each other in a romantic sense. Platonic with a capital P. 

“So much for summer love and saying us” 

I genuinely think that when El and Mike broke up in season 3, they should’ve stayed broken up. They would have still been friends and still talked to each other. But if they would have broken up it would have been the best for both of them. It would have saved both of their feelings. 

Betty

This song is James apology to Betty after dissapering and cheating on her. This would equal Mike.

“Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. It's like I couldn't breathe.” 

I know for damn sure that Mike Wheeler could not go near that house after Will moved out. I feel like it would make him sick to his stomach when he looked at it. 

“The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.”

I know that Mike regrets the shit he did in Season 3. The fights, the blatant ignoring of Will to focus on El and his relationship that’s falling apart in front his eyes.

“Slept next to her but, I dreamt of you all summer long.” 

I think that Mike really started to realize that he likes Will around the end of season 2 and season 3. Which is also around the same time he starts getting more defensive towards Will. That's when it all starts going downhill. Because he is starting to realize this feeling and with El breaking up with him, he is losing things to hide behind. 

“The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you.” 

We all know that if season 2 Mike saw seasons 3 or 4 Mike, he would beat his ass. But I still think that there is a little part of Mike that still really cares about Will like season 2 Mike did.

This is a rework of something i did a really long time ago so if it seems familiar and you've been around my blog a while that's why!

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