#the way he was genuinely moping after mike left

[munamania]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[silentglassbreak]

So like I know I literally already requested one but I love your writing so much that I had to request another 😍 Maybe have Billy help with Steve's anxiety by forcing him into his pool or have a sandelot scene wear Steve 'drowns' on purpose so Billy's mouth would be on his. Omfg I'm so sorry but like I haven't found anyone else who takes requests for harringrove and honestly it's a struggle 😭

HI! Please feel free to send me all the prompts your heart desires. This one went a little off from where I had originally intended it, so I hope you still enjoy it!

I included Robin, because don’t we just need her sometimes?

And BTW, you’re the L I T E R A L sweetest! No need to apologize!

A Reason To Fall Is Better Than No Reason At All

Steve was trying to remember why he let Robin talk him into coming to the pool today. The sun, beating about as brightly as he was sure it possibly could, made his skin sting angrily. The splashing sounds from the kids had his head running in different directions, ultimately distracting him from the real reason he didn’t want to be here.

“Agh, Steve,” Robin ripped her sunglasses off of her face, revealing a red line where they sat on her cheeks. “Would you quit moping? It’s the middle of summer, it’s our day off. Would you please just enjoy yourself?” His eyes glared in her direction. He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting childishly while crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” She rolled her eyes and replaced her sunglasses.

“I honestly don’t know why you don’t just talk to him.” She went back to flipping through her magazine, eyes barely skimming the pages.

“Yes, you do know why.” Steve’s Ray Bans sat over his hair, pressing it down in, he was sure, the most unflattering way. He pulled them off and pulled his knees up to his chest, hooking his arms around them. His eyes constantly wandered to the lifeguard chair, where Heather Holloway was perched. Her shift ended in T minus ten minutes, and then his day was going to get so much...harder.

“It’s not my fault you’re too pussy to actually tell Billy how you feel.” Steve scoffed, tilting his head back toward the blinding sun.

“Sure! Why not?” He threw his hands up dramatically and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Hey Billy, did you know that I’ve been, like, insanely in love with you since you beat my face in last year? Oh, and also, I’ve stared at you in the shower so many times after practice that I damn near memorized all your freckles? How about that?” Robin’s nose was scrunched up, staring at Steve with a sort of disgust. She made a disapproving sound.

“Yeah, don’t fucking say that.” Steve let his body fall limp in the pool lounger, eyes moving over the kids’ heads in the water. He counted them off one by one in his head.

Mike. Lucas. Will. Eleven. Max. Dust-

Where was Dustin?

He stood to his feet instantly, moving over toward the edge of the pool, foot almost slipping underneath him. He crouched down next to where the boys were horsing around, evidently arguing over a game of chicken. His hand reached out and slapped the water, splashing Lucas and Mike.

“Hey, shitheads.” They turned and glared at him.

“What?” Mike’s voice always had this tone that made Steve wonder why he even tolerated him.

“Where’s Dustin?” They all started looking around, then back to one another. Will shrugged at Mike before Lucas looked up at Steve.

“I think he went to get a drink at the snack bar?” Steve rolled his eyes and stood back up, replacing his sunglasses on his face and marching toward the small store. He was looking back at Robin, who was eyeing Heather from over the lenses of her sunglasses when something, someone, crashed into his chest.

“Woah, Harrington.” Hands we’re grabbing his forearms, steadying him on the slippery cement. “Easy.” Steve pinched his eyes shut for a second behind his glasses before turning his head back. He almost didn’t recognize the boy in front of him.

Billy was almost as tall as Steve, falling short by maybe an inch. His dark black Aviators hid his ocean blue eyes, freckles spread generously over his face, down his neck, over his chest. Steve would know. But it wasn’t any of it that stunned Steve, it was Billy’s hair, or lack thereof.

Billy’s blonde curls always hung just above his shoulders, mullet-style, or in a low ponytail. When Steve looked at him now, it was just gone. He couldn’t breathe for half a second, a slow grin spanning Billy’s lips.

“You alright, princess?” Steve ripped his arms out of Billy’s hands, praying his eyes, blown wide, weren’t visible behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah,” he pretended to brush his shirt off. He didn’t even fall. He was an idiot. “yeah, the ground’s just...slippery.” Billy smirked, seemingly amused.

“That’s because it’s a pool.” The words came out slow, as if that’s what Steve was to him. He huffed and moved to walk past Billy, heart hammering through his chest. Billy let him go with one last glance in Steve’s direction, but he didn’t quite see that.

*

An hour into Billy’s shift, and Steve was quietly arguing with Robin, begging her to let him leave.

“I am not watching all of these children by myself, Steve.” He was cross legged on the lounger, turned toward her and gesturing way too much with his hands.

“It was your idea to come here!” She nodded her head, now watching as Heather dove into the pool near the lap barriers.

“Yes it was…” Her voice trailed off, eyes so obviously following Heather as she lapped back and forth in the pool. After almost a minute, Steve snapped in front of her face.

“Earth to lesbian!” She shot a glare at him. She slapped her magazine down on her legs and gave him her full attention.

“Yes, Stevie?” Steve furrowed his brow, hated when she called him that.

“He cut his fucking hair, Robin! I can’t stop looking at him!” She chuckled and threw her head back.

“Earth to closeted bi-Steve, who is admittedly in love with Billy Bad-Ass!” He frowned intentionally.

“You think you’re funny?”

“Oh, I know I’m funny.”

“None of this is funny! This is torture, Robs!” She rolled her eyes then, turning her body towards him.

“Then go,” She paused and grabbed his chin. “talk,” Turned his face toward the lifeguard tower. “to him.” Steve’s eyes stopped on Billy, shirtless, glistening, sunglasses pushed on top of his head, whistle shining around his neck.

Robin let go of his face and went back to her tabloid. “He’s into you too, by the way.” He felt like his heart stopped, maybe fell out of his chest somewhere near his stomach.

“He is not.” She scoffed, nodding her head curtly. “And how do you fucking know that?”

“Because when you were babysitting your children before, I might’ve chatted with Heather. They’re best friends, you know.” Steve’s mouth fell open. Her tone was teasing, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was fucking with him, or providing him with information that she knew would make him do backflips.

“Please don’t screw with me like that, Robs.” She threw her head back, frustrated.

“You are absolutely incorrigible, Steve Harrington.” He glanced back at Billy, whose eyes were expertly trained on the pool and the patrons, waiting for a slip of misbehavior, an excuse to blow his whistle.

“Are you being serious?” She just hummed, flipping to the next page. “Alright.” Steve gripped the edges of the chair, knuckles going white. “Fuck it, I’m going to go talk to him.” Robin ripped her glasses off and looked at him.

“Seriously?! What are you going to say?”

“Robin!” She sat back, hand going up defensively.

“Okay, okay.” She nodded at Steve, lips in a hard line. “You’ve got this, Steve Harrington. You‘ve got this.” He nodded in agreement, his body standing off the lounger. Before he could walk away, his gut twisted and he turned quickly.

“Fuck, what do I say?!” She chuckled.

“I honestly don’t know.” She waved him off and looked off toward Heather. “Pretend to drown or something.” He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a long, deep breath. He could do this. He could do this.

His body moved, almost involuntarily, and much too quickly toward the lifeguard chair on the other side of the pool. He ran over conversation starters in his head.

‘Hey, heard you like me. Want to get something to eat?’

‘Funny seeing you here, Hargrove. Want to make out?’

‘I’m in love with you, let’s fuck in the bathroom.’

He was only about ten feet from him now, and he had yet to find an acceptable way to even say hello to Billy, let alone confess his love. He didn’t need to that very second, right? He had time. Maybe ask him out for ice cream? He had plenty of access. Offer him a ride to Tina’s party tonight? Tell him he wanted to just hang out? One of those should work.

Steve’s head was so muddled, so distracted that he didn’t even see it, the discarded pair of sandals on the edge of the pool, wet and even slicker than the cement, until his foot kicked out from under him, head cracking on the edge of the pool. He heard someone yell, and he felt the searing pain just before he went into the water.

Luckily, Steve fell into the shallow end of the pool, legs catching him quickly, only most of his hair getting wet. Suddenly, he couldn’t quite remember his train of thought. He was headed somewhere, to talk to someone, but his eye was stinging from the blood streaming into it, and his forehead was throbbing.

His left eye shut reflexively, his hand reaching up to feel an open cut just under his hairline. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers were red and sticky. The sight made his stomach turn a bit, enough to make him want out of the pool and to sit down.

“You alright, pretty boy?” He looked up with one eye, fighting against the sun’s rays, to see him crouching next to the pool. “You need CPR?” Billy’s grin was genuine, but he was definitely fucking with Steve. He returned it with a nervous smile of his own, making his way to the edge of the pool. Billy held his hand out to Steve, helping him hoist himself up onto the edge and out of the water.

“I think I’ll be alright.” He noticed Heather standing behind Billy, eyes searching Steve’s face.

“You sure you’re alright? Do you need us to call an ambulance?”

“No!” Steve nearly shouted. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. “No, thank you. I’ll just clean up in the restroom.” She gave him a half smile. His eyes found Billy’s face, who was wearing a smirk that had some kind of meaning.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine Heaths. I’ll go get him cleaned up, and get him a fresh shirt.” Steve looked down at his white shirt, blood now staining the left side of his chest. Perfect. “Cover for me for a few?” She just nodded sweetly at him and patted Steve on the shoulder.

Billy’s hand guided him by the wrist toward the building behind the pool. They went through a door that read ‘Employees Only’, leading to a locker and shower room. Billy sat Steve down on a bench in front of his locker, fingers working the combination.

“Sorry, about this.” Billy snorted a laugh.

“Did you mean to do it?” Steve shook his head, disbelief on his face.

“No,” It came out as almost a chuckle. “definitely not.”

“Then don’t apologize.” Steve leaned his head back and shut his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else. Before he opened them, he felt Billy’s fingers brushing his hair off his forehead. When he looked, Billy held a cotton swab in one hand, some strip stitches in the other. “This shit’s going to sting.” He didn’t give Steve a chance to protest before he pressed the alcohol dipped swab to his cut, exciting a hiss from between Steve’s teeth.

It only took a few minutes before Billy had him cleaned up, blood gone from his face, cut closed and sterilized. He tossed a lime green shirt at Steve, taking the bloody one and shoving it in his locker.

“I’ll get the blood out and give it back.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “I know a thing or two.” He shook his head and unfolded the shirt. Billy leaned back against the lockers, eyes glued to Steve, moving up and down his body while he fiddled to find the front of the t-shirt.

“You know, Harrington, if you had wanted to get my attention, you could’ve just talked to me.” Steve froze, arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes stuck on Billy’s face.

“What?” His voice was so small, he almost didn’t hear it himself. Billy’s chest shook with a silent laugh.

“I mean,” He pushed away, moving into Steve’s space. “injuring yourself, just to get me to notice you? That’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” Steve wanted to scoff, wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to do something. But he couldn’t, Billy was too close, breath too hot on his face.

“I didn’t-“ But Billy was quick, grabbing Steve’s arms, and pressing him against the lockers. Steve let out an exasperated sound.

“If you wanted my mouth on you, Steve,” His name rolled off Billy’s tongue like butter. “you should’ve just asked.”

He was on fire, on actual fire. Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat, brewed as much confidence as he could, and…

“I’m asking.”

Billy growled then, lips catching Steve’s like a lion catching its prey. The kiss was hungry, desperate, everything Steve fucking needed. He tried to stop himself, but a low moan escaped when he felt Billy’s tongue lick past his lips, into his mouth. His arms dropped the shirt down, hands reaching up to grab the back of Billy’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. There was too much fucking space between them.

Billy’s lips trailed down Steve’s chin, biting lightly at the jawline, leaving wet kisses down onto his neck. He was going to stop breathing if Billy kept this up.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, I told you to pretend to drown, not to actually-“ Robin’s voice echoed off the walls before stopping short. Their heads both whipped toward her, eyes dark and hungry.

Steve gave a nervous grin and offered a short wave. “Hey Robs.” Her voice was much quieter then.

“H-Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to-“ Billy took a step back from Steve and he immediately felt the absence. Billy padded over to the door, smiling all sugar and irritation before pushing to close it.

“Bye Robs.” He called before letting the latch click, hand turning the deadbolt. His eyes looked back to Steve, all fire.

“Now, where were we?”

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Were we Gay-Baited? The Issue of Will and Byler/Byeler, a Discussion of Apophenia, Identification, and Empathy

I’ve been struggling with my own feelings since finishing Stranger Things 3. Curiously, I find myself being overcome with rage and disappointment, which isn’t how one is usually meant to feel about a TV show. It wasn’t a bad season by any means, though I do think it was the weakest of the three so far. The one biggest point I find myself stuck on is the treatment of Will Byers, not just as a character, but as a reflection of my own experiences and feelings. Identification happens all the time when we engage with fiction. Sometimes we are meant to do so, while other times it is due to how we interpret otherwise ambiguous aspects of a character or story. It’s an aspect of empathy, as we’re feeling the emotions (or at least what we believe to be the emotions) of a character.  I identified with Will back in Season 1. It looked like they were building, slowly, but surely, towards Will being gay, and I let myself build this idea that his struggles with the Upside Down and the Mindflayer were a metaphor for him coming to terms with these feelings he had for his best friend. I saw the Upside Down as an allegory for being in the closet. A dark, lonely, scary version of the real world. I don’t know if Barb was meant to be seen as a lesbian, but I latched onto that as support for my theory. It was after being left alone by Nancy that she is captured and killed by the Demogorgon. She felt alone and rejected, and subsequently was consumed by the despair that comes with hiding. Will, however, was able to get out due to the overwhelming love and support of his friends and family. Was I wrong to make this assumption? Possibly. Then Season 2 happened, and I don’t know what else we were meant to think.

For reasons we never really find out, at least in the show itself, Will finds himself being stalked by the Mindflayer roughly a year after escaping the Upside Down. This creature wants Will, and apparently only Will. The simple explanation, I suppose, is that it wants what it sees to be his. Will got away, the Mindflayer isn’t ok with that, and this all ensures that our main cast are at the center of the story. I read into it deeper though, which was probably a mistake. This happens during an election year, and Reagan signs are prominently displayed. The AIDS crisis was in full swing, and still mainly seen as a gay disease. Will still doesn’t feel safe, and doesn’t even fully understand how he feels. He flashes back into the Upside Down, feeling targeted and watched. Mike is generally able to pull him back out, and Will seems to seek out the safety of his best friend. Mike is the only one he trusts. Mike is safety, comfort, and unconditional love. He’s special, at least to Will. 

It is again love that saves Will. Joyce, Johnathan, and Mike get through to Will by sharing stories meant to express how they feel about Will. Joyce loves her son, and is proud of his rainbow ship. This was unnecessarily specific if it wasn’t meant to be gay coding. Johnathan shares the building of Castle Byers, Will’s safe haven, after their dad left, The same dad who would call Will a fag. We see Will start to waver, ever so slightly, as they start to reach him, but the kicker is when Mike starts. Mike shares the story of when they first met. He remembers it in surprising detail, and it’s the oldest memory out of the three so far mentioned. Mike is barely keeping himself together as he relates walking up to Will on the first day of kindergarten. He’s so overwhelmed by the memory himself, repeating that Will said yes to being his friend, as if he cherished it immeasurably, and goes on to say it was the best thing he’s ever done. Despite the Mindflayer’s control, Will himself is barely holding back tears at this moment and we see emotion on his face for the first time since being fully possessed. He’s able to start with the morse code. Mike is the one who ultimately broke through. I read this as him being the single most important person in Will’s life, but was it that, or was it simply that he was the last to speak? It’s hard to tell the intent here, especially as Mike’s attention leaves Will as soon as Eleven returns shortly thereafter. All we’re left with is a look at Mike when Will is asked to dance, and his fake smile faltering as he glances at Mike dancing with Eleven. More curious decisions that could be something, or may be nothing.

This brings us to Season 3, where my confusion, annoyance, and anger boil over more with each episode. We start with scenes that I felt did a good job showing an emotional conflict set up by the end of Season 2: how does Mike find room for both Will and Eleven? Mike is shown obsessively attached to Eleven, which is reasonable given his age and his fear of losing her again, and we also see him going to the movies with Will, Lucas, and Max. The latter scene is oddly double-date like, to the point where they don’t sit together, putting Mike and Will separate from Lucas and Max as if to highlight the two separate couples. Lucas and Max get some playful banter in (pretty much the last we see of their relationship this season), and Mike is shown still harboring concern for Will. I found it odd when Mike asked if Will was ok, as Will hadn’t really done anything unusual. The suggestion, at least to me, was that Mike is still paying close attention to Will, and this made sense, as he would have a fear of losing Will the same as he does with Eleven. After this we see Will mope over the amount of time Mike spends with Eleven, but he has no complaints about his other friends. His obsession over D&D is over the top and jarring, and very much out of character. He’s a fully fleshed out character with multiple interests, but all he wants to do is D&D, why? I don’t really have a great answer for that beyond it being bad writing just to set up a later scene. That brings us to their fight, which fully ignited my hopes that they’d continue this build-up.

Will loses it when Mike and Lucas seem to mock his campaign. They don’t really dislike it, they just aren’t engaged due to girl troubles. His anger, though, seems focused on Mike. Will feels betrayed, and laments his loss of the Party due to girls, but he never blames anyone but Mike, even though Lucas and Dustin are similarly focused on girls. He calls El a “stupid girl”, and that wouldn’t be unusual given the situation had we been shown any interactions between El and Will or given exposition to inform us that the two of them get along. Indeed, I got the impression that Will still hasn’t had any meaningful interactions with her, since it’s implied she’s constantly with Mike and only Mike. The only time we see her out with the Party, before the crisis begins anyway, Mike bails with her very quickly. Will resents El. She’s stealing Mike away from him. That’s how I saw it anyway, and I remember feeling that way many a time at that age. At this point, you might still be able to argue it was just Will mad he’s losing his best friend, but then that one line comes. “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” 

This line could have been done in any number of other ways if the implication was anything other than Will is gay and has feelings for Mike (any maybe thought Mike might like him as well). Mike could have told Will he needs to grow up or that it’s not his fault Will doesn’t have a girlfriend. But, no, Will simply doesn’t like girls. Will’s reaction speaks volumes, despite him not being able to talk. Up to that point, Will had been jabbing Mike with accusations, but as soon as Mike says this he’s stone silent. Lips quivering and eyes watering, he stares at Mike in disbelief and fear. To his credit, Mike immediately realizes he crossed a line and softens his approach, something we never see him do when he fights with anyone else. The damage is done, however, and Will’s final words “I guess I did. I really did.” screamed of a breakup to me. Will thought it’d be him and Mike forever. He destroys Castle Byers in a rage, berating himself for being stupid. It’s no longer a safe haven for him, as it is filled with memories of his childhood. A childhood spent with Mike.

This whole scene is never addressed again by the two of them. Lucas is shut down in an attempted apology, and I saw this as Will not wanting an apology from him and not willing to discuss the situation. It still felt very aborted, as if that quick scene with Will and Lucas was meant to tell the audience that, nope, we’re not getting into that. He and Mike have no real significant interactions throughout the rest of the season, though Will is shown reacting negatively anytime Mike expresses his feelings for Eleven. Our attention is never really drawn to it, but it’s there. This takes us to the finale, where Mike’s goodbye to Will is oddly quick for friends as close as they were supposed to be. Mike expresses worry that Will would move on and replace him, and Will reassures him that such a thing would never happen. I like how they had Mike smile perhaps his most genuine smile of the season here, but it still felt odd. When they hug outside right before the end, it’s again quick and not indicative of the emotion that should be there. Will seems to linger in the hug a bit, but Mike staggers away to Eleven. Mike’s attention seems to be solely on Eleven as the Byers leave, though he glances back at the house that he shouldn’t really associate with her. The final scene is a near perfect mirror of Season 1 when he thought Will was dead. It was confusing, possibly intentionally so, but why? 

Mr. Clark brings up apophenia when speaking with Joyce. It’s the tendency for humans to spot patterns where there are none. As humans, we like for there to be explanations for everything. There are no coincidences, we just haven’t figured out how things fit together. Part of me wonders if this whole line of conversation was targeted at fans, such as myself, who read too deeply into Mike and Will’s relationship, and possibly Will’s possibly homosexuality. I could understand how it could be used to cast doubt on Joyce’s fears. However, it ends up having no real bearing on the plot, as Joyce is relatively quickly shown to be correct in her suspicions. 

In the end, I’m left to wonder if this whole idea of Will being gay, and possibly Mike and Will being subtextually written as a couple, was simply a case of apophenia. My empathy for Will and identification with him could have caused me to misinterpret things to fit my own personal experiences and unfulfilled adolescent wishes. The dissonance caused by what I thought and what I’m now seeing is what is causing my anger and disappointment. It’s having me relive what I felt so long ago where all I wanted was to see a boy like me happy on TV or in movies. I thought this was going to be what I never had, but, though we still have Season 4 yet to come, it looks like it was simply a case of seeing what we wanted to see. Still, the way they did it reeks of gay-baiting, and I feel used.

[eddieeatsass]

7 and 21 for reddie😎 only if you want to❤️

Sex Magic/Sex Pollen + Blind Date from this prompt list

This combo was so interesting, it really made me wrack my brain to figure out how to meld these two concepts together. My friend Jack actually helped me come up with this idea, so thank you for making us both push the limits of our imagination!

Read On AO3

The System had been in place for nearly a decade; the population’s first ever completely computerized dating process. A computer took in all of your data, scanning your life history, your future goals, your medical status, as well as having each client fill out a ten page questionnaire. All of that information was then used to narrow down everyone in their database, giving you your most compatible mate.

There were two experiences you could choose from; The Classic, which involved a regular blind date, and The Neo, which ended with the release of their patented pheromone gas. Clients who chose the later would get to experience the sensuality and intimacy that usually resulted at the end of a successful date. Clients were able to opt out at any time during the date, if they decide they do not want to go through with the final step. Despite that, however, the public still argued about the morality of the consent issues that could arise from this practice.

Because of this outrage over the program, The Neo got used less and less over time. What was once new and exciting had now taken a back seat to The Classic.

Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak were two of The Neo’s first clients in months. Of course, the company couldn’t tell them that they’d only been paired together because they were the only two participants available, so instead, Richie and Eddie went into a blind date expecting to find their computer generated soul-mate.

It was a bright, sunny Friday afternoon when Eddie approached the dating center. He was welcomed warmly, and after reading through and signing all of the consent forms and legal documents, he was lead to a room. The building he’d arrived at was nice, the lobby had been decorated in a way that reminded its clients of why they were there; to find love. However, the room Eddie found himself in was starkly opposite.

It felt like he’d walked into a hospital. Everything was white, and the air smelt of disinfectant poorly concealed with the artificial smell of roses. In the middle of the room was a small square table, already set up with a table cloth, a candle, and two plates of pasta that couldn’t possibly be fresh. To the side there was a bed, barely big enough to fit two people but obvious in its purpose. Eddie was just considering bailing on this whole thing when he heard the door open behind him.

He turned to see a tall man stumbling in, eyes darting around the room before settling on Eddie. He was accompanied by the same worker who had brought Eddie in moments ago, but she quickly left with a curt nod, shutting the door behind them.

The two men stared at each other for one very long, very awkward moment, before the taller man took the lead.

“Hi, I’m Richie, you’re soul-mate, apparently.” Richie stuck his hand out towards Eddie, a charming but shy smile revealing a set of slightly buck teeth.

Eddie grasped his hand, shaking it timidly before deciding Richie was decently attractive. Definitely the type of guy Eddie would try and pick up at a bar. He was pleased with the introduction so far.

“I’m Eddie-” His voice was abruptly cut off by the crackle of a speaker.

“You’ve got thirty minutes before the gas will be emitted. If at any point before that you wish to end the date, you may discreetly press the button beneath the table, at which point one of our staff will be in to get you. Thank you for choosing The System as your dating course of choice. Good luck at your happily ever after.”

The voice was monotone, the disclaimer obviously rehearsed and recycled for every new date they supervised.

Eddie was quick to stifle his giggle, finding the contrast between the person’s lack of enthusiasm and the idea of finding your one true soul-mate hilarious, but unsure of how Richie would take it.

Surprisingly, Richie laughed unabashedly.

“Wow, with an introduction like that, how could we not be excited.”

Eddie let his giggle bubble up, soothed by the knowledge that Richie thought this experiment was turning out just as ridiculous as he did.

“Do you wanna see how terrible the food tastes?” Eddie asked.

“Eddie, my dear, nothing would make me happier.”

The food was awful, but that much shouldn’t be a surprise. This was a dating service, after-all, not a restaurant. The meals were probably made in giant batches, left to sit out all day and only being stirred or re-heated when necessary.

They poked at their pasta more than ate it, focusing instead on the conversation that seemed to flow freely between them. So far, Eddie had found out that Richie had recently moved to the city, was an only child but had a friend named Stan who he considered a brother, was trying to become an actor, and had a pet turtle.

“So, Eddie spaghetti,” Richie said, pointing towards the neglected spaghetti with his fork and a self-satisfied smile. “What led you to sign up for this romantic excursion?”

There it was, the question Eddie had been dreading. He knew it was going to come up, but hadn’t quite figured out a way to explain without coming across as lonely and desperate.

The truth was Eddie had gotten to a turning-point in his life very recently, where he’d had to choose between his own happiness and the happiness of others. After years of letting his mother dictate his life, choosing his school, his career, his partner, his sexuality, he’d had enough. But how could he sum that all up without Richie thinking he was a loser?

“Uhm, I came out recently…” Eddie chose that route; not quite a lie, but not the whole truth.

“Hey, congratulations!” Richie cheered, clinking his glass of water with Eddie’s before taking a sip. The action caused Eddie to startle, unfamiliar with someone congratulating him on, well, anything.

“So, you thought this might be the best way to find that special man?” Richie winked, gesturing at himself comically.

Eddie nodded, a small smile secured across his features.

“What about you?” He asked, eager to turn the attention away from himself.

Richie raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t been expecting the question to be turned around on him.

“Oh, uh, well my friends signed me up for this actually.” Richie rubbed the back of his neck. “But, well I guess it’s because I’ve been moping around for the past few months. Bad breakup and all that, you know. They must have decided it was time to get me back out there, and thus, here I am.” Richie gestured to the room around them, bringing their attention back to the bed that sat tauntingly in the corner.

“Apparently sex is part of getting me back out there.” Richie added, trying to make a joke out of an awkward moment.

Eddie smiled a little sadly.

“Well, if this was your friends’ idea, you certainly don’t have to, you know, act on anything. There’s no pressure.”

Richie’s featured contorted, almost as if he was offended Eddie would even suggest Richie might not want to see this through with him.

“Thanks for the out, but I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take it.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink, a bashful smile causing him to tilt his head down.

“You’ve got a cute smile.” Richie murmured, almost too quiet for Eddie to pick up, before he was suddenly changing the subject.

The half hour they had to talk went by quickly, but they still found the time to discuss their entry questions for the program. They found out that they’d answered almost everything entirely the opposite from one another, leading them to question just how the algorithm worked.

“I still can’t believe you’d prefer a night at an arcade over a horse-back riding lesson for a first date.” Eddie teased, rounding back to the first question they’d been asked on their entry questionnaire.

“Hey, I stick by my guns; horses are terrifying creatures and I wish never to meet one.” Richie joked.

“I’ll have to introduce you to my friend Mike. He owns a farm and they’ve got the most gentle horses you’ve ever met. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

The insinuation of meeting up again after this program didn’t go unnoticed. Richie’s grin widened before Eddie realized what he’d said, slumping a bit lower in his chair and bringing the water glass to his lips.

“You know, if you want.” Eddie added, hiding his own smile behind a gulp of water.

“Already introducing each other to the friends, huh? Why Eddie, I didn’t know we were that serious.” Richie drawled in a dreadful impression of a southern belle.

Eddie’s face was flushed, his heartbeat preparing to send him to the hospital, when the overhead speakers came to life once more.

“We are now commencing part two. Please get comfortable as the gas begins to take its effects. Under the bed you will find anything you might need to make this experience more enjoyable.”

The two looked at each other with mixed expressions, the tone in the room suddenly thick with anticipation. The faint hissing of gas filtering in could be heard, but after looking around they couldn’t find its source.

Richie was the first one to move, pushing himself away from the table and heading towards the bed. He crouched down, reaching under the low bed frame and blindly feeling around until his hand met a box.

Once it was pulled out in full view, Richie and Eddie’s eyes both widened. The box was filled with an assortment of condoms, different types of lube, and even a few sex toys that were still in the package, marked with bright price stickers that implied if they used them, they were purchasing them to be taken home after.

“Wow, this is really happening.” Eddie said from where he still sat stock-still in his chair.

“Only if you want it to.” Richie said firmly, turning to give Eddie a genuine look.

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works. Soon our hormones are gonna take control and we won’t be able to help ourselves.”

“Hey,” Richie got up from his perch and walked over to Eddie, kneeling down in front of him and locking on to his gaze. “I will not do anything you don’t want me to. I don’t care what kind of crazy sex magic this is, I can and will hold myself back, if you tell me to.”

The tightness in Eddie’s chest began to loosen at Richie’s assurance, or maybe it was loosening because of the gas. Either way, Eddie found himself feeling more at ease, more confident, brazen.

He rose from his seat and passed by Richie, beginning to strip his shirt off as he walked towards the bed.

Richie was frozen in place, heart beating quickly at the mere sight of Eddie’s back. He was all tan skin and freckles and toned muscles; Richie found himself wanting to trace every curve with his tongue.

When Eddie’s hands began undoing his pants, Richie shot up and strode over within seconds, stilling Eddie’s hands with his own.

“Leave some for me, w-will ya?” He tried to joke, dry throat causing him to stumble over his words.

They couldn’t tell if the heat in the room was rising, or if it was the heat in their bodies. What had felt comfortable moments ago suddenly felt stifling. Getting rid of each other’s clothes became both lust-fueled and an attempt at regulating their temperatures.

Eddie began finding himself noticing things about Richie he hadn’t before. His hair was not an even shade of black, but rather a meld of dark browns and raven tones. It curled up in ways that made you want to run your fingers through it, and it looked so soft it was tantalizing.

Richie was noticing similar details about Eddie, like the swoop of his tiny nose and the smattering of freckles that didn’t just dust his cheeks, but scattered across his forehead and down his jaw. Richie followed the freckles down Eddie’s body, eyes glazing over as he took in the delicious planes of bare skin. When his gaze finally settled on Eddie’s cock, pink and perky, he dropped to his knees automatically.

Clients had to be free of STIs to pass through, so Richie didn’t think twice before taking Eddie into his mouth. The warmth of him on his tongue matched the warmth Richie felt all over, and the weight of the cock grounded him. He found it easy to focus on that and nothing else.

Eddie let out an unrestrained moan, letting his head tilt back as his fingers wound into that tempting hair. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, and he found himself gathering as much of it as he could in his fists.

As wonderful as it was to look down and see Richie’s mouth formed around his cock, eyes shut as he sucked with fervor unlike any Eddie had ever seen (or felt), Eddie needed more. His body tingled all over, his hole throbbed for attention, and all he wanted was for Richie to stuff him so full he wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without assistance.

“Are you okay with topping?” Eddie struggled through his syrupy thoughts, trying to form a coherent sentence.

Richie hummed questioningly around Eddie’s cock, sending a shock of vibration up his shaft that had him cursing silently.

“Richie, are you okay with topping?” Eddie tried again, this time gritting the question through his teeth as his fingers tightened in Richie’s hair.

He got the same response, and irritation mixing with arousal caused Eddie to yank on Richie’s hair, pulling his head back and leaving him slack jawed and staring up at Eddie.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Eddie asked, all composure gone from his tone, replaced instead with desperation.

Richie smirked, raising on shaky legs and pulling Eddie close. Eddie’s hands were still tangled in his locks, causing his arms to rest on Richie’s shoulders.

“Oh Eds… I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be wrecked for anyone else.”

Richie leaned in, capturing Eddie’s lips in the first of their kisses. It was messy, driven by passion and an intensity that nearly knocked them off their feet.

Richie began steering Eddie backwards towards the bed, keeping their mouths connected with melding tongues and swallowed moans.

When Eddie felt the mattress hit the back of his legs, he turned around and crawled across the bed on all fours, lowering his chest until it touched the bed so his ass was in the air. He reached back with both hands, spreading his cheeks and presenting his hole to Richie. It was such an unexpected lewd pose that it nearly had Richie choking on air. Eddie looked like a cat in heat, bearing himself completely to be at the mercy of Richie.

“You better make good on your promise.” Eddie challenged, his voice a bit breathless.

Richie grabbed a bottle of lube from the box provided and hastily joined Eddie on the bed, his excitement causing him to stumble momentarily.

Richie’s chest was tightening, a slow spring getting ready to launch him into the abyss of infatuation. He was already completely taken with Eddie, but now, with the addition of the pheromones, he felt completely consumed by his obsession over this boy.

Richie was quick to squeeze some lube out onto his fingers, surprised when the smell of cherries drifted up to his nose. He looked at the label on the bottle, seeing it was indeed marketed as cherry flavored, and made a mental note to test it later when he wasn’t so hyper-focused on getting as deep inside Eddie’s guts as possible.

Richie brought a single digit to Eddie’s hole, admiring for a moment how pink and pretty it was; like a small flower waiting to bloom. He teased around the ring of muscle, enjoying the way the skin twitched in response, before he experimentally began pushing in.

Richie was surprised as Eddie’s hole essentially sucked him in, pulling him through the warm channel until he was up to his knuckle.

“I… may have stretched before coming here…” Eddie admitted, wiggling back into Richie shamelessly.

Richie’s brain was spinning, partially from the gas but mostly from the sight in front of him. Eddie was taking him so well, so eager to be stretched open and fucked good, and boy would Richie deliver.

After a few pumps and twists of his finger, Richie was already able to add another. In addition to Eddie having already stretched himself, a side effect of the gas was that it relaxed you, loosening your muscles and making your body more pliant. So Richie was able to get three fingers deep in record time, having received not a single complaint from Eddie, but instead continuous encouragement and hip swivels.

At this point, Eddie was basically fucking himself back on Richie’s fingers, and Richie legitimately considered letting him get off just like that. However, Richie’s own length was feeling ignored, so he shelved that idea for another day.

Richie removed his fingers, soothing Eddie’s whine with kisses along his back as Richie reached towards the box for a condom.

“No, n-no condom.” Eddie panted, trying to pull Richie’s hand back towards himself.

“Wha- are you sure?” Richie asked, despite his heart rate skyrocketing at the idea of being inside Eddie completely bare.

Eddie nodded, accompanied with a little moan.

“I want to carry your load inside me for the rest of the day.”

That’s all the encouragement Richie needed to convince him. He let his forehead rest between Eddie’s shoulder blades for a moment, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself so he didn’t cum then and there.

“You are going to kill me if you keep saying things like that.” Richie huffed out.

Eddie wiggled his ass back against Richie once again, only now that Richie was hunched over him, Eddie was grinding right back into his lap, the thick head of Richie’s cock catching on Eddie’s rim every few seconds.

“Then shut me up.” Eddie challenged coyly.

Well, Richie might only last a few seconds, but at least they’ll be a blissful few.

Richie drew back his pelvis, lining himself up with Eddie and pushing in without hesitation. The resulting moan was wanton, filling the room with a small echo that bounced off the walls. Richie momentarily wondered if these rooms were soundproof, and tried to think back to when he’d been walking through the halls. Had he heard anyone? Were there people listening to his most intimate moments right this second?

Eddie’s tight heat clenching around him was enough to shake those thoughts from his head. If they wanted to listen, then god bless them, because Richie would put on a show.

He pulled his hips back before pistoning forward with a vigor that knocked a choked moan out of Eddie. Richie quickly set a tempo that had Eddie unable to keep quiet, making sure to angle himself in a way that he found Eddie’s prostate, and keeping himself aimed towards it with every thrust.

“Fuck fuck hhhhhnnnnnngggg- so full.” Eddie groaned, reaching one of his hands down to his abdomen and pressing in, as if he might be able to feel Richie within him.

“So tight.” Richie responded, petting down Eddie’s back.

“I don’t know if it’s the g-gas but I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked this g-good- oh my god yesssss right there.”

Eddie was meeting Richie thrust for thrust, the sound of skin slapping together the only thing that could be heard apart from their moans.

“That’s not the gas- fuck- it’s all m- mmmmmm- all me, baby.”

Normally Eddie would hate a cocky response like that, but right then it went straight to his cock, causing it to twitch and release a heady string of pre-cum. He could tell he was going to cum soon, could feel the tightening in his balls and the constricting of his abdomen.

“I’m gonna cum, Richie- ‘m gonna- ahhhhh-”

Richie reached a hand around to Eddie’s front, grasping his cock in a gentle hold and giving it the attention it craved. Within seconds Eddie was spilling over Richie’s deft fingers, soiling the bed beneath them with waves of his release.

It took Richie another few minutes to cum, fucking into Eddie’s overstimulated hole to chase his own high. Eddie didn’t complain, didn’t wince away or whine, he just stayed open and willing, a vessel for Richie to get off.

When Richie finally finished and pulled out, Eddie collapsed on the bed, too far out of his mind to care that he was laying in his own cum, or that Richie’s was dripping out of him.

Richie lowered himself down beside Eddie, catching his breath as he let his eyes wander over the man’s lithe form. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was after having sex-gas initiated intercourse with a stranger. Did you cuddle? Kiss? Was he allowed to ask him on another date?

As the gas induced haze started to leave their minds, they became more and more aware of the state of them.

“Do you think they have showers here?” Eddie’s voice chirped up after a long silence. It was smaller than before, shy, maybe, which Richie thought to be endearing after he’d been begging for Richie to destroy him mere minutes ago.

“I hope so. I’m not too keen on the idea of walking home covered in my own spunk.”

Richie heard a small giggle, and when Eddie turned to face him he just about stopped Richie’s heart.

The smile on his face was radiant, shining up into his eyes and directly into Richie’s soul. Richie nearly missed his next few words, too busy falling so hard he thought he may get a concussion.

“I’ve always hated that word. Spunk.” Eddie repeated it, scrunching his nose up in disgust.

Richie wasn’t aware of his hand moving until it was curling a lock of Eddie’s hair around his ear, fingers drifting down to his cheek bone and along his jaw. Eddie’s face fell into a new expression, surprised, but also inquisitive and searching.

Richie let his hand settle on to Eddie’s neck, thumb grazing back and forth over his jaw. He locked in to those hazel eyes before slowly, carefully, leaning into Eddie’s space and placing a gentle peck on his lips.

Eddie responded with a light press of his own lips, eyelids fluttering shut only for them to pop back open when the kiss ended before he was ready.

“Eddie…” Richie took a breath, stilling himself before continuing. “Will you go on a date with me? A real date?”

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his grin from showing through. He tried to calm his heart down before responding.

“On one condition.”

Richie raised an eyebrow.

“The food has to be better than that slop.” Eddie nodded towards the table where their forgotten dinner laid.

“Of course, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie smiled before recapturing Eddie’s lips.

[kaleid-tay-scope]

"Delicate" Music Video Analysis:

Here's what I saw and the connections I found. I was going to use pictures but there were too many. This list is in order so you could read it while watching, pausing in between notes. 😘😘

The first two seconds shows a black screen with lowercase letters spelling "delicate" and on the third second we see Taylor Swift's forlorn face close-up with bright lights shining on her and she slowly comes out of her depressed dream stare instantly with a smile when she sees the camera flashes and hears the crowd and reporter.

Next we see Taylor standing on the red carpet and the camera focuses in on someone handing her a folded note. The man who hands the note is the same height as Taylor wearing in heels. We see Taylor's face up close lit in a more soft and defused light and her eyes are looking in wonder and curiosity.

Taylor walks into the Millennium Biltmore Hotel (known for serving alcohol during prohibition in the Gold Room, being of great lgbt importance, as well as having a security guard to turn people away who were only trying to meet celebrities.)

Millennium Biltmore Hotel hosted a very gay-friendly bar through both World Wars and was the site of an early milestone in gay rights advancement. In 1971, the Biltmore hosted the International Psychologists & Psychiatrists conference, which was going to declare electroshock therapy as the “cure” for homosexuality. The meeting was disrupted by the Gay Liberation Front, which effectively forced one of the first dialogues between mental health professionals and the gay community. Within two years of that incident, “homosexuality” was removed as a mental disorder after decades of stigma and official misclassification.

We immediately see that the same people in the crowd outside are now inside waiting. On the right side there is a statue of a female angel with what looks like a mermaid tail.

We see Taylor walking through the lobby surrounded by four guards and we see that some of the people have taken out their phones to record her. As Taylor walks by one of the guards is motioning to blonde woman wearing a dress with stars all over.

We see her taking selfies with her younger fans (as shown with their lollipop t-shirt, baby doll length sequined dress, and a crinolin tutu) but as soon as she's grabbed by a guy they seem to only care about how their selfies were ruined. They aren't looking at Taylor or asking if she's OK but instead they seem only disappointed they were interrupted.

The man who attacked her and tried to push her down is dressed as a service professional; a bellboy.(There's an incredibly gay film called the "Bellboy" where a man named Jake discovers gay sex and an erotica lifestyle at the hotel he works at.

After this altercation we see Taylor look between her fans not caring about her wellbeing and to the bellboy being carried away. We see Taylor's upper lip curled in a display of disgust at her fans behavior.

One of her bodyguards is taking her away while looking forward and Taylor is looking up in resigned annoyance.

We see Taylor next walking in the middle of four men who appear to be security guards. We see that they each have a full beard or a goatee. There are four but reflected in the mirrors (mirrored door the mirror in the cabinet) there are 8 men and 2 Taylors.

Every step forward means a few steps backwards if Taylor decides it so and we see Taylor testing her ability to control them by moving this way and that while they do the same thing each time. Eventually we see Taylor sigh upwards in resignation again. Taylor also stops right in front of a large bouquet of white flowers including lilies.

We next see Taylor examining herself in a mirror at the Los Angeles Theater's ladies room. We are shown that she feels like a puppet with strings

(In Pinocchio we have Geppeto wish on a fallen star to have his puppet be real and come to life. The blue fairy helps him grant this wish and Pinocchio becomes real. Pinocchio ends up at a pleasure island after being lead astray by Honest John.

When Taylor gets "pulled" like a puppet into looking foolish it doesn't quickly go away as seen with the same expression no matter how she's moving her head.

Knocked out of her focus she sees three pretty women and coyly smiles - they weren't there to see her faces in the mirror she's relieved but doesn't realize yet that they can't see her. Even though she's alone and it's not a work thing she'd hope that they'd at least say hi.

After she sees the women is when she becomes invisible but she's in disbelief. She looks at the sparkling note but leaves it on the dressing room counter.

Taylor gets up and motions her arms in front of the women but they don't respond, they aren't seeing her so she exits the dressing room and appears back at the Millennium Baltimore Hotel carrying her shoes down to the lobby she flings them away.

Snapping her fingers and waving in front of the four guards she discovers that not even the four men can't see her and her motions get larger and more dramatic with less inhibition.

After seeing that the guys are more interested in looking forward and or talking intimately with each other, Taylor finally smiles.

Taylor realizes she's finally in charge of all of her actions and rips off the bottom of her dress so she can not be confined anymore (Dress vibes) and starts to dance but before she exits the area she makes sure to check left and right just one more time.

We see Taylor quickly move past two men and one women to dance between two women for "do the girls back home touch you like I do." During this dance between the two women Taylor shimmys and touches her body including her breasts. (In January 2017, protesters took to Mike Pence's neighborhood:

‘Queer Dance Party’ shakes and shimmies to send a message to Mike Pence “We want to send a strong message to Pence that we’re a united queer community,” Firas Nasr, an organizer, told the Washington Post. “We’ve always stood united. There’s always space to dance.”)

Then we see Taylor dancing more elaborately and she shows the camera her left hand with a ring on her ring finger.

she is reaching out to someone and her expression is showing loss and like that she's suddenly in another room. (I feel like this is a pattern symbolizing Taylor's tendency of running after she starts to have feelings.)

Taylor walks backwards and then we see her try to shake off her bad mood she sashays (chases) and pivots (changes directions) but she's in the same 3 feet of space.

(This is another pattern of Taylor being able to shake off her angry or sad emotions but being able to do that doesn't mean she's not feeling the negative emotions.)

As the song continues about her bad reputation Taylor is seen grabbing her head in distress, again she's showcasing her hurt feelings.

It should be noted that again we see the same people from the beginning scene.

Hopping up to be in ballet fifth position arms (without first in preparatory) we see her legs in passe/retire positions interchanging and then again (after frustration) we see Taylor happy again in front of an island themed mural.

Next she quickly bourrees (double-time) off screen.

As Taylor pops up on top of the check-in counter to march, the first thing seen is her knee (CIWYW gif from on the roof vibes) seemingly to her own beat and then she hops left and right. The front desk clerk seems to be checking-in a man with a closed duffel bag.(Getaway Car vibes)

Quickly she's seen hopping again side to side in front of a stone fountain when she shakes her fist at the bellboy who is seen being carried off by one of her security guards. The bellboy is seen shouting as the guard carries him off stage. It should be noted that he does not move his legs at all while he's yelling (CH Twitter rant symbolism?)

After the bellboy is off screen we see Taylor fouetté pivot into miming drinking tea with a saucer for a quick moment until again we see Taylor's emotions changing suddenly ("so happy then I turn back to sad" -Gorgeous) Taylor seems annoyed when a couple walks past and then holds her head with one hand and walks away grudgingly pushing against an invisible wall.

The invisible wall manifests into a real wall (wooden toy puppet into a real boy symbolism?) of the Millennium Biltmore ballroom and we see Taylor disoriented and giving into feeling sorry for herself for a beat. Falling against and sliding slightly down the dark mahogany paneling she pauses and then realizes that it's useless to just mope we see a resolute Taylor shrugging off the wall and pushing away to get back up and dance.

The next scene we see Taylor dancing with a Latin flare leading with her hips and heels as she playfully circles her arms and fingers around her body.

She's shown feeling free and smiling when suddenly she's tied down again with her arms behind her and her legs again in more reserved choreography and then she screams.

After she screams she looks like she's shocked that the confinement bothered her so much and her expression shows that she's not sure how she feels about any of it. Taylor runs forward off camera.

Next we see Taylor sprinting in the elevator lobby to leap into an open elevator where there is a woman Taylor thinks can see her.

We see Taylor smiling at a smiling woman and then realizing that the other woman is actually using the elevator mirror to apply her lipstick and doesn't actually see Taylor even though Taylor seems to be coming to terms with her emotions.

The next scene Taylor stays in the elevator and is genuinely sad and then she looks like she's made a decision to get out of the hotel and go somewhere, anywhere. (Running away again seems to be her MO)

We see Taylor at crossroads inside the 7th Street Metro center where she seems to switch between hip-hop and power-step dancing and then again loses the hold onto her distraction and holds her head but this time it's with both hands.

Next we see Taylor choosing a direction by instinct (with her eyes covered by her hands) we see Taylor enter an open Metro Rail car.

Taylor falls into the open rail car which considering her destination to 417 W 8th St Los Angeles, she shouldn't actually take the rail but the bus.

We see Taylor fall to her knees on the floor of the rail car and then as she's slowly rising we see her walk her fingers suggestively from her hips over her chest to her shoulder and then finally we see that she's pretending someone else is doing the touching. With one hand on her shoulder and her other covering the hand again in fantasy we see a satisfied smile.

When Taylor inhales/gasps quickly we see the rail line door close.

After Taylor mimed being physically satiated in the rail car she's shown in the next scene soaking wet in an alley hopping over obstacles. I feel like Taylor taking the rail line (which has a map of its lines in a dot of rainbow colors) and not the rail bus (which was the direct route to her final destination) shows that Taylor has had to go out of her way to get where she is now.

After hopping over the obstacles she has her feet in the air and then when she's past the obstruction signs she leaped over she gives herself a "well-done" bow.

Next we see Taylor playfully dancing with no regard to style, hand poses, or beat and she hops from the sidewalk to the street over puddles in front of graffiti writing out "Reputation" (with a capital letter) and she bows more deeply, showing her back, letting the camera focus on the phrase "Choose Your Pitstops." (Karlie has used 2x the word pitstop in her insta of the girls' road trip as well as the word pit 1x in the tweet she wrote defending Taylor saying she'd always have her back.)

We then see Taylor dancing a bit similar to the beginning of this adventure but this time including he her signature flamingo poses as she makes her way forward. We never see Taylor's expression change back to sad (Gorgeous) like we have for this entire music video.

She's seems ready to take on the world and follow through with her decisions. She dances now on top of the roof of a stopped car with its headlights on on, reaching for the stars. Next we see Taylor sliding down from the roof into the splits and seems to emphasize that Taylor still feels happy with this journey even though she's not as high up.

The next scene shows Taylor calmly walking into the Golden Gopher, a gay bar in Los Angeles that survived the prohibition and was once owned by former president, Teddy Roosevelt. (Taylor's a history nerd)

We see that Taylor has arrived inside the bar and is somehow holding the note again showing us that not every action of hers is on display even if recorded you will not know all the facts.(Making Of A Song)

Out of breath and slightly shivering Taylor stops focusing on the magical note and as soon as she does it changes to a regular piece of paper with no magic.(Dumbo vibes where Dumbo feels like he needs the feather in order to make it across the tightrope but he realizes that he doesn't; his strength and talent is within himself and has been all along.)

Now we see the patrons and bartender looking back at Taylor but they don't have their phones out and they aren't looking at her like she's something but someone; someone regular, in fact.

She seems to look around past the first four, the fourth patron seems to be blocking the fifth patron from Taylor's eyeline at first, she continues to search until she looks in recognition and smiles the genuine smile of knowing (Dress vibes "I know what you know") .

The final shot shows Taylor smiling with brightest of lights behind her with soft diffused light on her face as she looks forward. (Are we seeing her last big hurrah?)

And then the screen is black with "delicate" the only thing on display, just like the beginning. The beginning and ending also parallel with close-up shots of Taylor with three different expressions on her face.

[film-in-my-soul]

A Pair of Arms Means Love, Seven Means Home - Everyone/Everyone

Pairing: Poly-Relationship Between All the Losers

Word Count: 2515

Request: It wasn’t one. This one goes out to my Familosers. I love you guys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It starts with Bill and Eddie.

One day they’re pals, sophomores in highschool, pushing each other into the quarry, and cracking jokes together in between class with the rest of the Losers. Then suddenly the next day they’re holding hands, trading kisses between classes when they get the chance, still cracking jokes with the other Losers. No one actually brings it up. It's a progression of something that really, to everyone, seems like a long time coming. So there isn’t anything for the others to question.

Even Richie, who feels a spark of something (hurt, jealousy, desire) doesn’t say anything about it. Not even when his hands want to shake at seeing the two boys together.

It seems natural that he’s the first one to be added to Bill and Eddie’s thing. (Even they hadn’t really talked about what they were to any full extent.)

They’re down at the water’s edge, Eddie in Bill’s lap, their feet in the shallows while the others swim. The others aside from Richie, who’s skulking further up the shore, leaned against a tree with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He’s been like that for the month and half that Bill and Eddie have been whatever they are and really, Eddie is done with it, has been since the first week.

He doesn’t like hurting Richie and for a while, he didn’t know how to make it better but now that it’s been nearly six weeks of his best friend moping around and pretending like he isn’t, Eddie Kaspbrak is done. He’s come up with a potential solution. Eddie twists around in Bill’s lap, feet dripping water onto the other boy's jeans. Bill looks down while Eddie looks up.

“I’m gonna go kiss Richie,” while it’s said like a statement Bill knows that, essentially, Eddie is asking for his permission. Bill’s lips quirk into a genuine smile and he nods.

“Okay.”

Eddie is sure that if it were any other person he was in a maybe relationship with they’d break up with him in a second, but Bill isn’t like that, if he said okay, then he meant okay. Eddie nods and extracted himself from Bill’s lap, suddenly the picture of five foot four determination as he strode over to the boy. Bill watches, getting to his own feet and strolling over at a slower pace, as Eddie knocks the cigarette from Richie’s mouth and grabs the collar of his shirt in two tight fists. Richie had looked both pissed and scared that he was going to get decked for no reason.

He wasn’t expecting for Eddie to yank him down into a kiss. It doesn’t last too long, mostly because by the time Richie realizes what’s going on and that he is, in fact, kissing Eddie back he realizes he’s kissing Eddie back. Eddie, who is, from what everyone has gathered, going steady with Bill. Richie yanks himself harshly from Eddie’s hold, eyes snapping to Bill who was finally standing beside the shorter boy. Richie opens his mouth to apologize, because wow he does not want to lose Bill as a friend because Eddie had apparently lost his marbles, only to be promptly stopped when Bill leans forward and places his own, softer kiss, on Richie’s mouth, and oh, Richie thinks that he understands now.

This too comes as no real surprise to the others so it also goes unmentioned when Bill and Eddie become Bill, Eddie, and Richie.

Eddie is worried they’ll have to make rules and talk about things now and then it might all be awkward but is pleasantly surprised when Richie simply steps into the little crevices in his and Bill’s relationship he hadn’t even noticed before.

A month goes by and then Stan is next to be brought into the fold.

It’s not until Bill is tucked between Eddie and Richie on his too small bed does he bring up something that’s been on his mind for the last week or so. Eddie had made it seem so easy when he’d looked up at Bill with his big brown doe eyes and stated that he was going to kiss Richie.

The room is draped in comfortable, post make-out silence, with Eddie’s head under Bill's chin and Richie's arms throw over the both of them, he being the tallest of the three. Bill breaks the calm with a stuttering confession.

“S...sometimes I th-think ab-bout kis...sing S-Stan.” Bill’s waiting for things to get awkward after the whisper is past his slightly puffy lips. It doesn’t come. All Eddie does is hum something close to an agreement into his chest and snuggle in deeper, Richie’s breath tickles Bill’s ear when his says “that’s hot,” and pulls both of the boys closer to him. Bill is so frightening revealed that both boys know him so well, that they know it’s not because he doesn’t /want/ them in any way, or that he wants something new. They both know that Bill just has too much of his heart to give (and that sometimes he can get lonely at night when Richie and Eddie, who live close together, can spend them together.)

It’s also the fact that Eddie finds Stan attractive in the way that he’s meticulous and organized, he likes the way his shirts are always crisp and seem to fit perfectly. Eddie also likes Stan’s long legs and sharp humor. Richie has thought about tangling his hands in Stan’s hair and making his curls a mess. He’s also wondered what it would be like to place a kiss on his cheek in the hall and see some of the kids he knows who have a crush on Stan look on with envy.

By the end of the week, once Bill has asked, hesitantly, if Stan might be interested in joining whatever the hell they are at this point, Richie get’s to do just that. Bill had been worried that Stan would only want to be dating him and not the other two as well. When Stan kisses him good morning at the bike racks and moves on to do the same with Eddie and Richie as well he feels happier than he had been when Stan first agreed.

Bill is sure that now that there are four of them they’re going to have to talk about it more seriously. Stan never really brings it up though, just starts holding hands with whichever three are closest to him, sometimes two at one time, walking with them to classes and dropping kisses on their lips before leaving like they all do. Stan does it in a rotation because aside from first and fourth period his classes are on the other end of the school from everyone else.

The Losers, while completely accepting are a bit more surprised with the addition of Stan, more for the fact that he’s willing to be in a relationship that involves Richie than anything else. Stan told them, almost tonelessly, that while yes, he and Richie bicker and he thought that his jokes were tasteless he didn’t like him any less than Bill or Eddie. No one ever questions it again after that.

The four are surprised when Mike is the next to wheedle his way into their relationship, but really, none of them are complaining in the slightest. It was a subtle integration.

It happens the night the four of them are watching a movie in Bill’s converted basement. It’s a date night, they’re all sprawled against each other, kissing occasionally, tickling more often than not (Richie had caught Eddie’s elbow to the ribs for that one.) Everything is normal for them when the sound of Bill’s doorbell ringing. They all get up to answer it. Mike stands on the other side, hands tucked into the front of his jeans, looking almost bashful under the porch light of the Denbrough house.

“Mind if I join you guys?” At the time, none of them had thought anything of it and agreed, welcoming Mike into Bill’s house with open arms. They all descended back into the basement. Stan was sure that the newcomer was going to sit in the lazy boy that had been unoccupied for the majority of the night but he didn’t. Instead, once everyone else was back to where they had been before (Richie and Bill twined together on the couch, Stan and Eddie sitting in front of it, fingers interlocked) Mike places himself next to Stan and in front of Richie, but not enough that his vision of the screen was disturbed.

After the film resumes and was playing for a bit Mike carefully slings his arm over Stan’s shoulders, fingers brushing the nape of Eddie’s neck enough to make him shiver slightly. The next day at school Mike carries Richie’s books to class for him, and after lunch, on his Bill and Stan’s way to fourth period he takes Bill’s unoccupied hand in his. By that time the four realize that when Mike had asked “mind if I join you guys,” he hadn’t just meant for the movie.

After three days when Mike has yet to kiss any of them Stan thinks it might be time to actually talk about “rules,” for the five of them.

The discussion ends with Mike explaining that while he definitely has romantic feelings for them he isn’t sure about anything more intimate, the idea just not very appealing to him. Most, aside from Stan, are surprised by the revelation but it was decided that kisses on cheeks were acceptable for giving and receiving on Mike’s end, anything else was to be determined at the boy's own discretion. It did nothing to change the fact they were now a group of five and Mike had shown his relief by treating them to ice-cream.

Richie decides that Mike is now his favorite boyfriend because of it. (Everyone knows that there really are no favorites which is why, ultimately, the relationship works.)

Ben and Beverly are the only two left. They’re already in a relationship and have been since before Billy and Eddie became a thing. That’s why Bill is sure that the evaluation of the Losers club is complete and everyone is in their place.

When Bev comes to him with Ben in tow one day, just Bill on his own (the other three in the process of getting picked up by Mike in his pickup) he’s not expecting her to say what she does.

“I want to date you guys,” Bill can feel his eyes widen because right away he’s willing to say yes, no matter how in love he is with his four wonderful boyfriends (because he is) he’s also in love with Bev, and, Bill’s eyes wander to her boyfriend, Ben as well. Bill loves all of them, deeply in a way that doesn’t allow just friendship to dwell. But Ben looks mildly nervous, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how. Bill says it for him. Because he knows Ben, and he knows that someone has to.

“B-But B-Ben’s not g-gay.” Because what it comes down to, really the heart of the issue, is that if Bev wants to date Bill and everyone else, Bill won’t let her do it without Ben coming along. It wouldn’t seem right. Ben almost sighs with the release of tension, like the statement was welling up inside and only now that it was brought up could they really address it.

“I’m not,” he starts out, more confident than Bill’s ever really seen him (at least without a pen and paper in hand), “but the truth is, I do, kinda, love you guys,” he looks at Bev who’s holding his hand for reassurance, then he looks back to Bill, “all of you.” And Bill sighs as well, because good Ben feels it too, the deepness in his heart that can’t just be filled with only one of the Losers. Maybe with all of them, it can be.

New “rules” are brought up at the quarry that night while they relax, feet dipping into the rapidly cooling water. Eddie and Stan love Bev, forever they promise, but sexually they just aren’t into women at all, unlike Bill and Richie, so while light pecks on the mouth are alright and more than welcome anything more intimate will be left to the boys (aside from Mike and Ben of course). After it’s established that Ben is more than willing to cuddle and hold hands with the others (much like Mike is) there isn’t anything else to really talk about and everything is good.

Richie can’t help but think that everything is complete and in a moment of actual maturity, states as such, earning him a kiss from Stan and Bev alike.

So yes, it starts with Bill and Eddie, but it ends a bit differently.

It ends with a lazy Saturday night, a group of seven people in love crammed in the converted basement of their boyfriend’s house. The lazy boy goes completely unused because if someone is sitting there then they aren’t all together, connected by crossed limbs and tangled fingers.

They’re all on the floor, blankets and pillows spilling from the puddle of people they make. Bill is resting his back against the front of the couch, Stan’s back against his chest as he sits between his legs, Bill loves running his fingers through Stan’s curls so that’s what he does. Mike is beside Bill with Bev on his other side, she’s got one of his hands in her, fixing his nails (which are often a wreck after working on the farm), Eddie is laying across their laps, feet on top of Bev’s legs while his head rests on Stan’s thighs. Ben in on the couch, laying so that he can reach Bev’s hair, braiding little sections that have grown longer than other and Richie is laying with his head on Eddie’s stomach, something they all know the smallest boy with complain about later on which will cause Richie to stretch out across him instead and tip the careful balance of bodies they’ve managed. They know it’ll happen, and when it does they know they’ll laugh, and share kisses and rearrange into a new coordination until they fall asleep one by one. Safe in the little nest they’ve made of each other's hearts and arms.

[lajoymechell]

New fanfic ( PITCH/ BAWSON) 😁⚾️

I know I haven't updated the other two , and have no business starting a new one , but I'll get to those . Read , share, enjoy 😌👌🏾 Ginny splashed cool water on her playing face. Her normally large expressive eyes were now in hiding , sunken deep in her face . Her skin looked ashen , almost ghost like in appearance if it weren't for the hints of tan coming through here and there . A ghost didn't actually sound like a terrible thing to be at the moment , at least no one would have see her in such a pathetic state . Instead , she was very visible ,moped for anyone to come and find her after she'd been ran in here to hide and vomit in peace . The little breakfast she did greedily choke down this morning was now in the sewer system somewhere , a few drops on the floor beside the toilet where it get a little ugly in here and when her arms had given out . She had long grown tired of the gagging and dry heaving routine and settled for the crevice between the garbage and the sink , wondering how she ended up alone , on the less than sanitary women's bathroom floor of the practice house . She drew her knees to her chest , practically tearing off her now sweaty Nike jacket and tying it around her waist , and started dragging her trembling hands through her mangled curls that had long fallen out of her messy bun . With a long drawn sigh , she pondered over how these past two weeks had practically been hell for her . After losing the game , due to a lot of screw ups on her part , she came down with what she believed was the flew . She thought the team was giving her dirty looks because she cost them a win , but they were actually concerned about her health and how "off " she was. No one was more concerned , however , than her over bearing husband . She's genuinely surprised he hadn't sent out a search party for her by now , or followed her on the bathroom , which he has done before , using the "everyone knows about us " excuse when she complained about it being the girls bathroom . On the field , she did her best to play the part . She worked out as hard as she could , made it look like she energy and didn't feel like passing out after showing off , or made secret trips to the bathroom to promptly throw up . But at home , she saw no reason to hide her frequent exhaustion . She fell asleep just about anywhere and had no shame whatsoever ever . Mike even found her in bathtub sometimes , knocked out with a towel under her head to cushion her . He had to physically shake her when she ignored his worried calls and nicknames he knew annoyed her. She went to bed so early , "fun time " soon became "do it yourself " time , when she turned on her side and wouldn't move until morning . She knew Mike was catching on to her little game , but she wasn't doing this to hurt him . After being married to him for a year and a half , she quickly found out she had moved in with her best friend . There was never a dull moment between the two . The banter stayed light , the sex was spontaneous and breath taking , thus somehow balanced work and each other through all of this like pros . She got to see a side of him no one else was allowed to see , and she vowed to herself to shield the man she loved. It took them long enough to stop dancing around each other and give in , to be vulnerable and stop fighting what was natural . She'd alway be his "rookie" and he'd always be her "old man ." She didn't want him to worry about her . She could tell her new behavior may have caught him off guard and made him feel left out , but she'd take that any day over having him scared all of the time . She'd never forget his face , and the haunting words he'd relayed to her , when she recovered from her elbow surgery a couple of years ago . He thought she couldn't hear him , but she heard every word and played it in her head whenever she felt like caving . Determined to make it up to him , she woke him early this morning with a trail of kisses , and a consenting nod . Afterwards he went back to bed , and she showered and headed down stair to make a huge breakfast of waffles , eggs , and fresh fruit . She surprisingly felt like the energy had returned to her her body and the bug she caught had finally left her . Wrong . Very wrong . Just as she was beating the eggs and stirring batter for the waffle batter , she felt an unexplainable heat rise in her , as if the sun was suddenly in her kitchen . Waving it off , she continued her work , reaching in the fridge for grapes and pineapples when she felt her mouth start watering in a bad way . What the ..? But before she could wipe the excess liquid from her lips , her stomach flopped , sending her on a mad dash to the sink full of dishes she'd have to yell at Mike about later for nit doing it last night like he promised. After throwing up the Chinese takeout she indulged in last night , Ginny wiped her mouth with the dry towel , before hitting the faucet and letting it run on that side . She opened a few windows to air the place out , feeling a bit better now . It was as if the nausea left just as quickly as it sprung on her. She resumed mixing and chopping fruit , but promised to look into it later . Mike came down stairs a little later , donned in workout gear , making her groan as she forgot today was leg day . She always worried he'd blow his knees for good , but he convinced her that eh knew his body and when to stop. He didn't want to hurt her feelings after nutting the two plates and large platters of food she set out . She waved him off , making him a quick to go bag and a kiss, saying she understood and wasn't hurt . She honestly forgot his routine , another symptom she needed to look up. Her memory was way off . She waited for the sound of his car bagging out of the driveway , before she dialed a number she knew was long over due . One rings , two rings ...." Hello " she heard the quiet voice come trough the speaker . "Ginny ?" She heard again , reminding her that she hadn't said anything . "Evelyn , i think I need your help . Can you please come over ?" Ginny practically begged , surprising herself when she heard the crack in her voice .

[agent-kentauris]

d122

“That’s funny,” I started, as across the street, Saint James began knocking a fist against the wall of the restaurant. “I thought we had more of a ‘you doubt me and I do it anyway’ kind of relationship.”

“I said I trusted your instincts, Mike, not your impulses.”

“Good to know,” I said, and I had to do it quickly, folding the map up and giving up, just creasing it at random, because Saint James was walking away now, bringing each high heel down with a sharp, forceful movement. She didn’t look back either. The crowds on the sidewalk, probably not as bad as peak tourist season but the break in winter coolness had gotten enough people out. If she wanted to get gone, she’d be gone in seconds. If she was good. If she was an agent. I weaved my way through a group of chatting student with backpacks (big and bulky enough to conceal explosives), teetered on the curb for a second as a city bus barreled by, cut off my sight-lines, but when it was gone, she was still there on the other side, along with whatever snipers and lookouts and tech specialists she’d gotten to accompany her.

Impulse said go. Instinct said nothing. And then, a twinge of something deep, something like embarrassment. This, this, after everything, this was the simplest decisions in the world. Over and over, I’d made the same choice. And I was going to stop chasing them now, just because…what? They were a little closer now. She turned, threaded through two stout, short bollards and walked into the shadows of a small pedestrian street. I hit the cobble, waved off the angry blaring horn of the car I’d cut off, and I felt the smile growing, along with the familiar hit of adrenaline. If I’d known where her backup was, I would have flipped them off. Instead, I nearly got hit by a moped, tripped over the curb on the other side of the street, and hightailed it to Saint James’ lane. They’d have to make do with that display of superb skill.

--------------

“I always wondered…did you regret getting her into this?”

“It wasn’t my choice.” The mission. The plan.

“Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike,” he said slowly, a trace of laughter as he settled back into his chair. “In the end, it was.

--------------------

She knew who I was. No need to introduce myself in Italian, other than to see if she understood it.

“Come stai?” I asked.

She whirled around, eyes going wide and hands going for her mouth. Interesting. Hard to fake genuine surprise. Ask anyone who’s ever found out about a party too early.

Hard, but not impossible.

I ducked a hanging planter, and rested my shoulder against one of the creme colored buildings that framed either side of the lane. She blinked.

“Non mi posso lamentare,” I promoted, gestured at myself. “E tu?”

Her one hand went for her hair band, the other for her skirt, and then she surprised me. She caught herself, wiggled her fingers mid air and she set her face, squared her shoulders. Reset herself. Then she smiled pleasantly.

“Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Thorton,” she said, and extended a hand.

Uneven nails, but each carefully covered in shiny pale blue. No wrinkles, no callouses on her fingertips, no burn marks no cuts. Handler, maybe? Analyst? I didn’t take it.

“Let’s discuss what you told me over the phone.”

“I know it sounds crazy – where to begin…”

She was actually just going to tell me. No games. She’d looked at my eyes, and that was about it. No scanning me for weapons, no looking around to see if I had people. No tests. Her eyes not focused on much as she sank into deep thought. She was just going to tell me. Independent agent? Someone with a grudge?

“Well, I-”

She stopped speaking when I straightened up, wrapped an arm around her shoulder. From there, if need be, one easy motion and she would be between me and her snipers. The she didn’t react with anything but a confused look…

I walked her forward, past the small artsy openings into shops and small courtyards and further down the lane, tried to split my time between checking her reaction and scanning the rooftops. And she just rolled with it, like she wasn’t in any trouble at all. Like this was normal.

Mia trusted my instinct. And now that I was off the street, now that I had relative control of this situation, now that things were quiet enough to listen, instinct was talking. And it wasn’t saying independent agent, or Halbech, or spy.

Civilian.

Problem was, Mina trusted my instinct, but after Surkov…

“Just start at the beginning, and don’t edit yourself,” I instructed her, quietly, softly, I let the words blend in with the chatter that echoed even in the sparsely attended lane. “Just tell it.”

“I work for the Veteran Combat Initiative – VCI.” She began rattling facts off with the same forceful purpose as she’d initially had on the phone. “They’re a global military contractor. My boss…Mr. Marburg…I think he’s involved in something illegal.”

My fingers tightened on her shoulder, and I had to disguise it as a reassuring pat. Her boss, after all, was doing something illegal. Very distressing, that. Or so I hear.

“So…” she continued. “I checked it out, and your name came up several times in our database.”

“And you,” I said, smiling and pulling her tight. There was a someone standing on one of those roofs, Roman sunbather or foreign spy? “just happened to come across this information.”

“Yes…Mr. Thorton, I don’t think he meant for me to see it, but in my position…”

Uh huh.

“So he just left this out accidentally for you to find?” I kept the smile on, had to talk through closed teeth.

Saint James pulled my arm off, made an attempt to push me away that earned her about two inches of free space.

“Mr. Thorton, I don’t know what you’re implying, but I came here to help you.”

Roof guy backed away from the ledge. I shrugged over at Madison.

“We’ll see. Where is this information, anyway? If you’re telling the truth, then it’s evidence.”

“I don’t have it on me.”

What a surprise.

Then again, if she was a civilian, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?

I let her go, and kept walking on. The hesitant first couple of clicking noises made by heels on cobble didn’t regularize, like I’d thought they might, but they did continue, irrhythmically, click click click click click click.

“Mr. Thorton,” she said, behind me and trying to keep up. I kept a pace ahead. “I’m not sure what to do next.”

Click click. “Go to the authorities?”

Click click. “Is there someone I should notify?”

My own footsteps were silent. “Or…?” she asked.

Come stai? (How are you?)

Non mi posso lamentare. E tu? (I can’t complain. You?)