#the trauma he put el through??

[pareiwheeler]

im so sorry but the people who say henry didnt do shit wrong .... okay

[oorevitcejda]

my rvb au longfic hinges on allison "agent tex" texas church letting the father of her triplet children name then Leonard, Leonardo and Leonarda.

my only reasoning is she thought it was funny and then they got home

[phantajam]

my hot take about descendants is that NONE of the core four were ready for a relationship until maybe like, the third movie (rant in tags)

[hurremsultanns]

Hürrem's reaction to Süleyman defending Ibrahim 'Why does everyone like him so much. Surely I can't be the only person here who sees that he's a monster.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Can You Stay?

Olivia Benson x fem!reader

Warnings: sexual assault/rape (not graphic or anything, this takes place after the fact), trauma, hospitals, rape kit, established relationship, hurt/comfort, some explicit language, brief mentions of self-harm

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: You're assaulted by a man the SVU just can't seem to convict. Olivia is used to victims, she's used to the aftermath of a rape. She's not used to walking through it with someone she loves as much as you.

“Let me see her!” Olivia yelled, shoving Fin so hard he slammed into a wall.

“Liv, you can’t be here as a cop,” Elliot argued, holding her back.

Olivia ran her hands through her hair, angry beyond reason and worried out of her mind. “I’m not, Elliot! I’m here because my girlfriend got raped. Now get the fuck out of my way so I can take care of her!”

Elliot lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, just… you gotta let us do our job, okay?”

Olivia shoved past him and into your apartment, desperate to find you, to see you, to hold you and protect you. When she found you, shaking and huddled in a corner of your bedroom, it shattered her, but she didn’t feel sad, not yet. That would come soon, she knew. What she felt now was blinding, white hot anger at the man who’d done this to you.

You were so traumatized you didn’t even seem to notice her. Your eyes were glazed over, and you rocked back and forth, your head banging lightly into the wall each time. Munch sat on a corner of your bed, and Olivia looked at him, silently asking if you’d said anything yet. John shook his head. So it had just been the 9-1-1 call so far then.

Olivia lowered herself onto the floor next to you, careful not to touch you, to frighten you. Your hair was dripping wet, and the water had blotched your t-shirt. Her stomach sank. It was him again–Cleary–she just knew it.

“Sweetheart,” she started, her voice soft, looking into your blurry eyes. “It’s just me.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, but your eyes filled with tears, and you started banging your head against the wall with more force.

Olivia placed her hand between your head and the wall to soften the blows. You wanted to hurt yourself. You wanted to hurt so much that you forgot what had come before. But you couldn’t bear to hurt Olivia. You put your head in your hands instead and when you finally spoke, your voice was small and hoarse.

“I can’t stop shaking.”

“It’s okay,” she soothed, still not touching you. She’d let you initiate touch if you wanted to. “That’s normal. You’re in shock, okay, baby? It’ll pass.”

“He came in my window, Liv,” you stuttered, unable to breathe deeply enough, your fingers tingling with the lack of oxygen. “He came in my window. I thought it was locked. It– it sh– should have– been l–locked.”

You scrunched your eyes shut and shrunk into Olivia, her arms wrapping firmly and protectively around you as you buried your face in her neck and gasped for breath. She rubbed your back, resting her chin on the top of your head.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Just breathe, baby, breathe.”

Elliot entered the room and sat on the bed with John. Olivia met his eyes, and she saw that he hated to do this. They were always aware of the ways in which an investigation might come off as insensitive to the victim. In fact, they did everything they could to be kind and empathetic and caring. But it had never been clearer than it was now that questions and probing, while necessary, would likely only make your horrific night worse. 

You coughed, trying to desperately get enough air, the room swirling around you. You tried, you tried so hard to fight the darkening edges of your consciousness, but you couldn’t breathe. The last thing you remembered before blacking out was grabbing onto Olivia’s jacket.

“Shit,” Olivia muttered, as your body fell limp against her. “El–”

“On it,” he said, pulling out his radio and walking to the living room. “Yeah, we need a bus at Mott and Spring. Unconscious female. Rape victim, panic attack.”

Olivia laid you gently on the ground, brushing your hair out of your face and placing her fingers on your neck to ensure you had a pulse. It was hard to pass out from a panic attack–which showed just how scared you were. She sighed and watched you, holding back tears, as she brushed her thumbs back and forth across your wrist. She wanted to feel your heartbeat. Just to be safe.

“You okay?” John asked her.

Olivia shook her head, biting her lip. “No.” She smiled wryly, her eyes wet. “But I am dangerously close to committing a felony.”

“We’ll get him, Liv,” John assured her.

“We haven’t yet.”

“We will.”

When you jerked awake, gasping, your heart still racing, Olivia squeezed your hands and bent down close to you. “Hey,” she soothed. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. Just keep breathing.”

She lifted your head onto her lap and you curled into yourself, your hand gripping tightly to hers. When the paramedics came, you shrank away from them and into Olivia, who might very well have assaulted an EMT to keep anyone from touching you and further traumatizing you.

“Can you walk?” she asked, and you nodded. “I got her,” she said forcefully to the paramedic who reached out for your arm.

Olivia walked you out of the room, out of your apartment, down the elevator, and into the back of the ambulance. She never once let you go, never once removed her arm from around your shoulder, glaring bullets at anyone who even came close to you.

Rape kits were always hard, no matter who the victim was, but it was excruciatingly hard now that it was you. Olivia almost couldn’t look at you as you talked the doctor at the ER through your assault. She wanted to cry, she wanted to shoot something, she wanted to hold you and never let you go. She would do anything, anything, to go back in time and have you stay at her place instead. Or, even better, to have been at yours so she could have shot the son of a bitch in self-defense. She didn’t know if she’d ever forgive herself for not being there.

You cried when they swabbed you, your body tensing in panic, hand squeezing Olivia’s so hard that little half moons formed on her skin under your nails. Olivia looked at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. She felt like her heart was being fed through a shredder. It hurt more than anything, hurt so bad she was nearly bent over with it, to watch you cry. To watch your body flinch away from touch and comfort. To watch you poked and prodded and examined under the harsh fluorescent lights, the smell of alcohol sterilizer permeating everything, when you had already been through so much.

When they finally discharged you, Olivia pulled your softest, most oversized t-shirt and sweatpants out of her bag. She’d brought them from your apartment, knowing that they’d take your clothes for evidence. She dressed you gently, carefully, your eyes bloodshot, face streaked and puffy from tears.

She had Elliot drive you both to her apartment in a squad car, knowing you wouldn’t want to see anyone else, that you wouldn't be able to stomach a cab or the subway.

In the apartment, you sat on the edge of her bed, face blank, terrified to go to sleep. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t speak. It was as if, after telling what had happened, your voice had switched off.

Olivia brushed your hair out of your face, bending down to look into your eyes.

“Do you think you can try to sleep, sweetheart?”

You nodded, exhaustion hitting you hard as the hours of adrenaline started to wear off. You crawled into bed, and Olivia pulled the covers over you. You struggled to keep your eyelids open, and Olivia gently kissed your forehead.

“Go to sleep, baby,” she whispered. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

You grabbed her hand as she stood to leave, turning off the light.

“Can you stay?” you whimpered, tears welling up again, no matter how hard you tried to fight them.

Olivia wordlessly lifted the covers and pulled your body into hers, and you breathed easy for the first time in hours. Her arms were strong around you, her heartbeat sure and steady, hands soft as they ran through your hair. And you knew, you knew, that she would keep you safe.

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt (Should I be numbering these?)

Clark knocks on the glass of the Watchtower. It's a futile gesture in the vacuum of space, but the movement catches Phantom's eye and he drifts inside, slipping through the glass.

"Hey," he murmurs, not quite making eye contact.

"Hi," Superman says, resting his hip against the conference table. He pats it beside him and Danny floats down, criss-cross apple sauce. Clark wonders not for the first time if Danny died at 18 or if this is just the body he inhabits, not unlike Connor.

They both look out at the vast wonder of space for a moment.

"We made you uncomfortable," Superman says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Danny is quiet for a moment. He doesn't deny it.

"I thought Kon-El was your son," he says softly.

Superman blinks. When Danny blanched beyond his norm and flew from the room the group had assumed CADMUS' invasive experiments had struck too similar a chord to the GiW's actions. "Do you take issue with cloning?" he asks, feeling deeply hypocritical all things considered. That self awareness gentles his tone but Danny still shoots him a glare at the not-quite accusation.

"No," he spits out. He sags, an awareness in his own eyes. "No, of course not."

His eyes are far too telling and Superman takes a hard seat on the table beside him.

"Oh," he says. He just barely keeps the horror from his voice. He is a grown man, but Phantom lies somewhere between the ages of 4 (his first dated appearance in modern time) and thousands of years old (his first recorded appearance) and his visage is too young for Clark to ever be comfortable assuming the latter.

"Yeah," Phantom says, staring down at his lap.

"Then...why?"

"You act like you're Kon's father," Phantom says. "I never thought about it like that."

"It's complicated," Superman offers, because it's all he can say, because it is not appropriate to demand details, to potentially trigger trauma, no matter how badly he wants to punch someone. Not right now at least. And because while some part of him has healed enough to find warmth in the title, his early actions will never truly make him worthy of it. "In some ways he's more like my brother. Jon considers him an uncle. My parents...they stepped up when I did not."

"But biologically he is your child," Danny says sharply, and the sharpness is not directed at Clark. "He is of you, and she is of me." Clark's inhale is distinct but Danny continues on without acknowledgement. "And I always felt strange about it, I always felt like I treated her differently, but I never put a name to it. I let it be and I let her go." He presses a hand to his chest, to the right of where his heart would be. "But she was mine. She is mine."

"Danny," Superman says quietly. "What do you want to do?" And how can I help?

Danny looks up at the vast wonder of space, and then his eyes flick down and Superman realizes he has not been looking at his lap at all. He's been looking at Earth.

With fear. With anxiety.

With hope.

"I want to find my daughter."

[stevieschrodinger]

Steve eats, but only because Robin puts food in front of him. Only because she reminds him it's for the pup.

Like he needs reminding. Steve often rests his hand protectively over his rounded tummy. It's reflexive, to protect the only part of Eddie he has left. He feels like he hasn't slept in months, even though he knows he sleeps often, in broken bits and pieces.

He hasn't spoken for a long time, he knows that. Everyone watches him, and everyone used to tell him the same thing, 'they're just dreams Steve, Eddie is gone.'

Steve knows though, they aren't dreams. Eddie is alive, and he's trapped in the Upside Down because Steve didn't try hard enough, didn't push hard enough, didn't say the right things to get the others to believe him.

It upset Dustin the most at first, but Dustin has also been the most adamant because he saw Eddie die, can't even entertain the idea that Eddie might still be alive, because that means he left Eddie behind. That's a lot of guilt to ask a kid to carry.

Steve knows they're talking about him again, like them whispering in the kitchen makes it any better. Steve's starving himself. Steve isn't sleeping. Steve isn't showering. Steve's mate sick even if Eddie never mated him. It's the pup. It's the trauma. It's the nightmares.

They aren't nightmares though, not when Eddie holds him close, laid on a grassy meadow under a sunny blue sky.

El is here, kneeling in front of Steve, 'do you really think Eddie is alive?'

Steve clears his throats, feels full of cobwebs and sand, 'I know he is.'

Steve's said it a thousand different ways. A million. He's cried it and screamed it and shouted it and whispered it and said it as normal and level headed as he could make it sound, 'I am absolutely certain that Eddie is alive,' no one ever believes him.

She nods, 'we will check-'

'El.' It's Hopper, in the doorway, he said 'El' the same way he would say 'No'. 'We talked about this-'

'No, you talked about this. I am tired of this, for Steve, I will check. We will check, just this once.'

And Steve feels too broken to let himself hope, but he heaves himself up off the couch anyway.

El opened a gate in the pool. There's not been water in the pool for quite some time now, and it just seemed apt. A place where there is already a weakness in the world. Perfect for El.

In the end, just to stop the fighting, everyone has gone back to the Upside Down.

Steve squints at the sunny blue sky, not at all surprised to see it. Everyone else is making suitably shocked noises. The grass is green, the trees lush. From the trees, a demodog watches them. It looks different, like it fits here, healthy and well fed now, it shakes and stretches and then lopes off further into the woods.

Everything is overgrown, like the Upside Down is reclaiming everything that One created here.

Nearby, laundry flaps on a washing line, metal band shirts and torn jeans, 'Eddie,' Steve breathes for the first time in over six months, and heads into the house.

There's a bowl of odd looking fruit on the kitchen counter. In the lounge, books. So many books, all stacked and arranged into strange little towers like they are giants in a city, and the books are skyscrapers.

Upstairs, Eddie has clearly nested in Steve's room; there are guitar bits and tools on the desk, two guitars in parts.

The bed is mounded with soft things, Steve scents a pillow, it smells like Eddie...and not.

'Where the fuck is he,' Hopper grumbles.

Steve wants to snap. Wants to scream at them all. They fucking believe him now don't they? They could have had Eddie home months ago if-

Dustin has books from the living room, in the front of each is stamped 'Hawkins Public Library'. So that's where they go.

Steve doesn't know what to do when he spots Eddie. He's crouched on a table, bare toes gripping the edge. He's pale, even more so than before, skin a pale enough alabaster that Steve can see the shadow of blue veins underneath. He's flipping through a book, back and forth, back and forth, before finally stopping and hopping down from the table, 'Eddie?'

Eddie doesn't answer, eyes trained on Steve. His hair has grown, even longer, thick dark curls that Steve wants to bury his hands in.

There's a ticking noise, a low, growling rumble as Eddie stalks closer. Things happen very very quickly, Hopper raises his shotgun, El screams 'no,' Eddie's face peels apart like the petals of a flower filled with teeth as he roars and charges at them.

Hoppers gun is jerked up by an unseen hand, his shot causing plaster to rain down from the ceiling, and then Eddie is floating in the air, roaring as his face blends back to normal and then peels apart again, furious.

El's nose is bleeding, she wipes it away.

Steve moves closer. Eddie looks strange; taller. Leaner. Just, more, somehow.

Steve reaches for him, and Eddie desperately tries to get to him in return, clawing at the air, 'put him down, El.'

'Do not do that-' Hopper starts, but doesn't finish, because Eddie lands neatly on his feet, catlike in his grace, where El drops him.

He lunges for Steve, and Steve let's himself be pulled close and gathered up, Eddie clicking and chittering quietly in Steve's ear, scenting his neck, a strange sucking sensation on his skin as Eddie's face peels apart into one big mouth.

Steve relaxes. He has Eddie back.

[femboybyers]

Bc people are coming out of the woodwork to discredit the idea that he's gender nonconforming and is instead a """strong""" character (like these are somehow opposed?) again, allow me to say:

Will Byers is not a rugged masculine stoic badass.

Will Byers is not a fighter (in the sense that El, Nancy, and Hopper are), he consistently cowers and hides when violence breaks out.

Will Byers doesn't attack dart, a creature he KNOWS is related to the Upside Down and is potentially dangerous, and instead treats it with compassion.

Will Byers is verbally described as "sensitive" and "not like most".

Will Byers has not meaningfully assisted in activities requiring physical exertion (digging the grave in s4, flipping the car in s3).

Will Byers cries more than any other male character in the show, and might be the character to cry the most.

Will Byers often fulfills a role in the narrative which is typically filled by female characters.

Will Byers is the only character to be clocked as queer by other people in the show and called slurs which almost always have to do with a failure to perform masculinity (not to mention being a queer man is INHERENTLY a failure to """correctly""" perform masculinity).

Will Byers is gentle and kind and selfless. He's also scared ALL the time.

He is not a "strong" character in the traditional sense. He IS, however, an incredibly RESILIENT character.

He has faced more danger and been put through more trauma than almost anyone else in the cast (except El) and he is STILL just as gentle and kind and selfless.

His sensitivity IS his strength.

And that's genuinely subservise and impactful to see in a young male character. I would have KILLED for a character like Will when I was his age, for some kind of validation that this was not only an OK way to be a guy, but a heroic and valuable one!

In conclusion, Will Byers is a sissy, a fairy, a pansy, a girly boy, and he's a goddamn hero for it.

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

[sillylittlerock]

fuck physics revision this is way more important

initial thoughts-

will, and therefore probably the byers family, are staying with the wheelers. hopper and el also could be there but i'm not sure.

holly will DEFINITELY be important this season. "the vanishing of holly wheeler", the leak of her talking to henry on the street, and now this bts photo confirms it for me. my girl is getting put through it this season. and will be crucial for the plot too.

mike's repressed emotions are going to be focused on this season i think!! from the look of it him and holly will (at first) be together a lot this season, so if she goes missing (likely ON HIS WATCH!!) the guilt he feels will be very very intense. perfect set up for his other trauma to come to light and be talked about, like they did with max in s4.

babysitter byler is all i needed in life i love this so much

WILL IS ALSO THERE, so maybe he will also feel some guilt after holly's disappearance?? how he couldn't help someone else and protect them from what he went through?

mike and will will almost certainly be a team / share the same plot this season - they clearly spend a lot of time together and will probably both feel guilt after holly goes missing, so will probably team up to save her.

this feels so full circle. the bikes, a child going missing, rooted in hawkins- it's definitely giving season one. and i'm SO HERE FOR IT

[despapillon]

having Will be abused by his father, bullied and shamed for his sexuality, kidnapped by a psycho monster, searched for an entire season all while he struggles to stay alive in another dimension, rescued, have to live with the trauma, bullied now also for being a 'zombie', possessed by an evil eldritch creature, manage to break free of it’s influence just for a little bit thanks to his loved ones to send them a message knowing it means sacrificing himself too, get burnt by a fire poker, be in a way involved in the deaths of ppl including his mom’s bf that could have became a father to him, get separated from the creature but still have a connection to the other dimension and a freaky balding serial killer that mentally tortures kids, have to watch his friends dismiss him in favor of their gfs when he just wants to play games and is afraid of growing up and have them try to rush through a dnd campaign he put effort into yet they act bored and make a joke out of it, when he points out he is hurt his crush makes a jab at his sexuality while dismissing his concerns and acting as if he’s wrong for just wanting to hang out with friends, get so broken by this situation to the point he uses a bat to destroy what was a safe place for him to stay when he was a child and pictures of him and his friends, never get an apology from Mike for all of this, then have to move to Cali and get separated from everyone, when he is there barely get calls from Mike while El gets tons of letters but he is too anxious to reach out to Mike himself because let’s be honest considering how he got treated by him in season 3 it’s a reasonable fear to have, when Mike finally visits he tries to hug but instead gets an awkward pat-or-whatever-the-fuck-that-was, have to watch Mike and El be all cutesy and straight up just going on a date while he tags along in the background knowing El is deceiving Mike, then after she gets viciously bullied get accused of being a douche to her, when he brings up he was a third wheel and Mike didn’t reach out to him he gets dismissed again, finally gets an apology and gains hope to the point he gains courage to take the painting but then decides to sacrifice his happiness and give it to Mike and lie to him because he thinks Mike can never love him and wants to make him feel better by disguising his feelings as supposedly El’s with the whole interaction making him breakdown all nextto Mike that doesn’t notice while his brother watches it all, have to watch El close to dying and hear Mike admitting his life started when he met El which is during the period Will got kidnapped to another dimension and then come back to Hawkins and witness the start of an apocalypse only to………

just die in season five? that’s it? why would anyone think that is the ending meant for Will? they won’t kill him, no way.

[shutuperce]

your fall 2023 byler reading list 🍂🍂

BIG BYLER FIC REC DUMP cause i haven't been writing a lot but i HAVE been reading and y'all need to read these! hope u enjoy as much as i did <3

got your spell on me, baby - @astrobei -Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 7,919

TW: none

'To be fair, Will’s costume is great, now that Mike knows what it is. And, okay, wait-

“Oh, this is so good. This is so good.” Max points at Mike, wheezing. “Because you’re dressed as-”

Will’s still looking straight up at the sky. The length of his neck is very, very flushed. Mike can feel his entire face going redder than Vader’s lightsaber. He clenches his hands into tiny little fists, and says, around a groan: “I’m not Han Solo, guys.”'

THE halloween byler fic. the party at college, bi lucas sinclair content, halloween party shenanigans.

these nerds, using star wars to flirt 🙄

background lumax & their amazing couples costume, el & will power sibling duo!!!

bowie references to heal the soul

all in all one of my favourite getting-together fics for this time of year :)

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet - @perexcri - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 28,150

TW: guns, blood, gore (just demodogs though no human gore)

'One month ago, if you had asked Will Byers what he’d do if Mike Wheeler threaded his fingers through his hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and started leaning in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have said this.

He wouldn’t have said he’d be staring right back into those yawning dark eyes, one hand on Mike’s waist, the other against his cheek. There wouldn’t have been any lightning in his veins or blood rushing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have said that Mike Wheeler would be tilting his head in the opposite direction, eyes widening just the slightest as if asking permission, his mouth slightly parted.

He wouldn’t have imagined it at all.'

SO SO GOOD. apocalypse post s4, background jancy and platonic stobin, interruption trope x10000 so it's SO SATISFYING at the end.

WILL WITH A GUN.

jonathan & mike solidarity <3

all in all amazingly well written mike and will being blushing messes. love them. fluff in the apocalypse.

take my hand, wreck my plans - @parkitaco - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 6,297

TW: discussion of past trauma

'"I am not taken," he says out of habit, even though he kind of is. He and Will aren't together - he blushes at the thought - but they do spend an awful lot of time together, and Mike doesn't ever find himself wishing he was anywhere else. "Will and I are-"

"Ooh, I didn't even say anything about Will!" Max crows. "Oh, this is excellent."

Mike hides his face in his hands even though she can't see him. "Oh my God. Can you put Lucas back on, please?"

Max cackles in to the receiver, the sound fading as Lucas presumably wrenches the phone out of her grip. "We gotta go, Mike," he says, laughing a little. "Max has class and I'm driving her."

"Tell her she's the worst," Mike grumbles, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Say hi to Will for me!" Lucas sings, and hangs up before Mike can protest.

Mike groans and flops back on his mattress. It's going to be a long year.'

part of a series!! byler college au, friends-to-lovers, background party friendship, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES??

taylor swift title... do u really need any other persuasion

the whole series is just AMAZING. mike & will getting a break, living together at college and figuring shit out <3

i might be hoping about this - @astrobei - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 15,321

TW: none

'Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.” 

“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.'

established byler at college!! so yeah i have a love of college byler and this is one of my top fics for sure. 2nd astrobi fic on this list because i love their writing <3

will gets sick, mike takes care of him. need i say more?

silly goofy guys living together & doing silly goofy domestic shit

this fic makes me SOFT.

accidentally on purpose - @itsromeowrites - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 5,019

TW: none

'It starts out with a kiss. An accidental kiss. Because Mike is sleepy and Will is pretty, and who can really blame him? And then there's another one, just as accidental. But the third? Well, that may be a little more on purpose.'

literally smiling so hard at this fic. like hello. soft secret boyfriends and loads of party content, all the kids are okay <3

established byler, how the party finds out. all fluff all the time. jonathan attempts the Talk. mike has no idea what's going on. et cetera.

background lumax, lucas & dustin being lil shits together, and el using her powers to cheat at splashing games. all in all a good time!

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - anonymous - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 14,958

TW: none

'“I’ll leave you be until lunch,” Max starts negotiating, nodding at him as if that’s a good deal. Which—considering it's Max, it is, but Mike doesn’t want to give in just yet. She sighs. “I won’t laugh about the sweater anymore. Or the weak disposition that gives you stupid allergies all the time.”

Mike’s frown deepens, but she wasn’t as mean as she could have been, so he’s gonna take it. He needs to get this out anyways, or he’s going to keep running in circles as if stuck in a hamster wheeler—an accurate representation of his brain when it comes to Will, really. He presses his lips together and tries to figure out a subtle, non-funny way to say it, but he comes up blank.

Fuck, whatever: “I almost kissed Will. Again.”

Max actually has to cover her mouth with her hand, disguising a worryingly loud snort with a cough. The teacher turns their way and stares, then goes back to explaining the exercise on the board. Mike scribbles it down while Max gets herself under control.

Screw his life.'

senior year, post-vecna. the party being friends but also little shits to each other.

madwheeler bandmates!!!

will steals mike's entire closet

they are Dumb Idiots who are mutually pining from afar

and other lovable tropes. takes place in november so good fall vibes :)

[catboymoments]

What’s Lu and Kay El’s romantic arc?

Short answer: they’re enemies to friends to lovers

Long answer: Kay el and Lu clash with each other so much at the beginning because they get off on the wrong foot and their personal trauma responses butt heads but as they’re put together on the automata team and have exposure to normal friendships/good support with Kanzee, Yoko and Gaa’Eng they realize “oh hey we’re not so different . This guy isn’t an asshole he’s just been through some shit. Like me.” And then they kind of work together to better each other and themselves by making an effort to get to know the other !!! and they wind up falling in love !!!!

“Red and Blue gays” but it’s symbolic of their issues (and their color schemes also but whatever)

[hurremsultanns]

'I wouldn't kill an innocent. Especially a prince.'

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.