#who else is in dire need of a hug like this

[jimjamgem]

You're all wonderful here have a giant hug for being so nice. #wip

[sordidmusings]

jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢

OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?

Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs

Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.

It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.

Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart

“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.

Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.

“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”

The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.

He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.

As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.

His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.

Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.

You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.

His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes

Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.

He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.

That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.

It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.

Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.

In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.

He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.

You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.

You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.

No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.

The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.

Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.

He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.

Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.

The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.

The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.

The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.

His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.

That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.

Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?

You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.

Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.

Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.

Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.

"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"

Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.

"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation

Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)

But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.

Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.

Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).

Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.

Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.

That just won't do.

The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.

It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.

And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.

"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.

"I'm-"

"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"

And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.

You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.

"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"

You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"

"Wrong."

Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.

"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.

"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.

"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"

He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.

He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.

Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.

"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."

"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.

At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.

"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.

You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.

Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

"Did you see where they went?"

Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!

Part of a little celebration

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

[wileys-russo]

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

[fandomnerd9602]

Tiger/Spider (2)

Ava Ayala x Spider-Man!Reader

She sat on the balcony overlooking New York. You swung in happily, wearing your classic red and blue suit with white webbing.

Ava couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” You asked as your removed your mask.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about how much work you’re gonna have.” She smirks happily.

“Well Jameson has been wanting me to work longer hours at the Bugle” you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Good we’ll need the income” Ava giggles as the sight of your confusion.

“What? Ava what do you…” she cuts you off, playfully smacking you in the chest with a small pink onesie.

Your eyes went wide, “what?? Y-You’re-?!”

Ava laughed and nodded. You wrapped her in a hug and spun her around. “Ava?! A baby?! I love you! I love you so much!!”

Ava kisses you happily, “I love you. Always and forever, my Spider”

“Always and forever, my tiger”

Ava bolted awake. Her mind racing with thoughts of you. The dream was always the same. Her little baby was crying softly in her crib.

“Oh my little cub” the young mother cooed as she got up and tended to her daughter. She kissed the hairline of her daughter's little face, gently trying to soothe her crying infant. “Another nightmare?”

Ava held her baby to her chest gently rocking her baby, “momma’s here.” Ava began gently singing an old lullaby.

Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?

Me pregunto qué serás.

En el cielo y en el mar,

Un diamante de verdad.

Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?

Me pregunto qué serás.

Her mind wanders to her earliest childhood memory. Her tia Soledad gently rocking her crib and singing the same lullaby.

Cuando el sol se ha ido ya

Cuando nada brilla más

Tú nos muestras tu brillar

Brillas, brillas, sin parar

Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?

Me pregunto qué serás.

Small flashes of memories came back to her. Her familia. Angela. Soledad. Hector. You. It all was coming back to her.

“(Y/N)?” Her breath hitched.

You didn’t sleep for the last few days. How could you? That White Tiger. Her voice. It sounded so much like Ava. Her form, her tone, all of it reminded you of her. There was no way it could be anyone else.

And so that’s what led you to a meeting with Matt Murdock and Angela Ayala at a diner.

Matt, an upstanding lawyer who you’ve moonlighted with Ava in the past, sat at a booth, gently tapping his cane. Angela sat across from him, an old family book in hand.

“(Y/N) good to see you again” Matt shook your hand.

“So you got some news for me?” You got straight to the point.

“Angela? Care to explain?”

Angela opens the book to a passage that had an image of Ava’s amulet. Angela nervously read it aloud, “in certain cases, the amulet is known to bestow resurrection upon the wearer in dire situations”

“Why wasn’t I told about this sooner?” You asked, you could feel your heartbeat picking up.

“It didn’t work for tio Hector” Angela shrugs, “it’s a myth. I’m sorry (Y/N). I had only begun to accept you and Ava fighting crime when she died”

Matt slaps down a folder. “I did some investigating pro bono for you Web Head”

"Investigating?" you and Angela look to Matt, his head remained down.

"Was the casket open or closed?" Matt asks matter-of-factly.

"Closed" Angela speaks up nervously.

Matt pulls out a coroner's report and hands it to you. With hands trembling you read the report allowed.

8:00pm - body of Ava Ayala delivered to coroner's office. Injuries match up with cervical fracture on the neck. Death instantaneous.

8:15 pm - body of...

Your body tensed up. Your eyes looked over the entry several times over. Angela looked to you in sheer dread.

8:15 pm - body of deceased disappeared. Cameras show a blast of green light emanating from the chest area and after which, the cameras in the office went haywire.

9:25 pm - after much deliberation, the coroner and staff on hand decide to cover up said unexplained event. Tapes destroyed. Family given empty casket and told that said casket is to remain closed.

Your face went white. A loud ringing filled your ears as Matt adjusted his sunglasses. "Her funeral. Her death. It was all just a cover up." Matt states with a somber tone in his voice.

"what the hell?!" Angela stands up, slamming her fists on the table. "You mean to tell me, my grieving hermano here, my entire family, that Ava may not even be dead?!"

"I can pursue legal action against the coroner's office and--"

"No" you state plainly.

The two look to you a little confused. You stand up. "I saw the White Tiger, a few nights back. This tells me that my Ava might still be alive. If it's her, I'll find her. But until then we have to keep this between the three of us. Got it?"

"Yeah sure thing, Spidey" Angela answers quickly. She knew how deeply this affected you. That you thought you lost not only the love of your life but also the baby she was going to have.

You walked out into the cold New York air. Something about it felt extra cold and bitter today. Angela ran out after you.

"Hey! Arana!" she grabbed your shoulder. "Do you really think it's her?"

"I do." you put a hand on Angela's shoulder, "this stays between us, got it? I don't want to give Soledad or anyone else false hope"

"You got it." Angela nods, "but you bring her back to us"

You give her a reassuring nod and take off into the streets. You were going to get your Ava back.

Ava patrolled the late night New York skyline. She stood on top of the Empire State Building, crouching down into a tiger like stance. Her mind racing with thoughts of you. Her mind was slowly piecing the tapestry of your love back together. But that would have to wait. Muse was on the loose.

You crawled down the top of the Empire State. “This place brings back memories” you whispered in her ear.

Ava turned around, curved knife in hand. “You?” She recoiled, her voice muffled slightly by the mask.

“Wait. Please. I just want to talk.�� You jumped down and came face to face with this White Tiger lookalike. “Out of all the places in New York and Hell’s Kitchen, you chose the Empire State. Why?”

“I always loved it.” Ava shrugs, “why? What does it mean to you?”

“This is where I met her.” You touched the surface affectionately. “My Ava. This is where our story began”

“Your Ava?”

“Please. I need to know.” You took a cautionary step towards her, “I’ll remove my mask if you remove yours.”

“Listen Web Head…that’s not how this…”

Her remark was interrupted with a police scanner report of Muse attacking a nearby area.

“Duty calls” Ava leapt clear off the building.

“Wait! Ava?!” You shot a web line and swung after her. You chased her for several blocks of New York. Her speed was enhanced. Her agility was better than before. You could barely keep up with her.

Ava landed in an alleyway. Muse had just cut into a victim. “Your blood will make the basis of my next work of..”

Ava threw a dagger which pierced his thigh.

Muse screamed in pain before throwing several knives at Ava. One cut thru her side.

Ava gritted her teeth, trying to keep herself focused. Muse sucker punched her square in the face, leaving her disoriented.

“Perhaps you’ll make a better masterpiece” Muse readied his Bowie knife. You swung in and kicked him in the chest.

“She’s spoken for, pal!” You said.

You and Muse traded blows. He cut several deep cuts into you and your suit. Your mind wasn’t in the game, you could only think of Ava and how disoriented she looked.

Ava tried to attack the psychopath but was kicked away. Muse slashed you clean across the chest. The blood loss was starting to disorient you.

Ava, thinking fast, thru a knife, lodging itself in Muse’s left eye. The villain was forced to flee, screaming in agony.

You turned to the White Tiger and fell to the ground. Ava slowly approached you and removed your mask.

A gasp escaped her lips. Your face was etched in her head. In her heart. “(Y/N)?”

You woke up in some run down apartment on a couch. Your wounds properly bandaged and dressed.

Your eyes wandered the apartment until they found her. Sitting there across from you.

“Ava?” Her name like a hidden prayer on your lips.

“(Y/N)” she gently replied with tears already forming in her eyes.

“How are you…?! I thought you were…” you tried to think straight.

“Who were we to each other? Really.” Her question interrupted your train of thought.

You sat up. The answer, you didn’t even have to think, it just poured out, “you are my everything. My greatest dream. My worse nightmare. My love. My light. My very life. Ava…I’m so sorry”

Ava jumped into your embrace, hugging you tight as if she would lose you if she let go. “I’m so sorry!” She tried to explain, “The amulet…it…it brought me back to life. I-I could remember anything.”

You just held her tight, kissing her shoulder. She wasn’t a dream, a variant, or some illusion, she was your Ava.

“Y-You’re here now” you whispered as you lean your forehead against hers. “That’s all that matters”

“I remember everything now,” a sad laugh escaped her lips. “You, tia Soledad, tio Hector, Angela…”

A small cry broke your moment. You froze, your eyes locked with Ava’s.

Ava gets up quietly and guides you to her bedroom. There laying in her crib you spot a beautiful baby girl. You feel your heart stop and then start all over again.

“Now I know she’s yours.” Ava says softly. You could only look at the little two month old. So small. So innocent. You never knew you could fall so hard and so fast in love with someone.

“Y-You can pick her up” Ava wipes away a little tear, “she needs her papa”

You tenderly pick her up, little coos escaping the tiny baby. “She’s perfect” is all you can say.

Again so many thoughts running through your head but only one question came out, “what’s her name?”

“Isabelle”

“Isabelle” You held your daughter in your arms. Her gentle whines just broke your heart.

“She looks so much like you” Ava gave you a sad smile.

“She’s got a good bit of you too” you smiled right back. “we made a pretty good kid”

Ava wraps her arms around you from behind, just inhaling your scent. The familiar smell was like heaven to her.

You sighed. How you missed having her in your arms. It felt so serene. So much like home.

“Daddy’s here” you gently whispered to your baby a soft little promise, “and I’m never leaving you again.”

You kissed the top of your daughter’s forehead and laid her gently in her crib. Your little Isabelle was fast asleep. Ava couldn’t help but smile a little. You were such a natural with children.

You turned to Ava and hugged her tightly. She looked into your eyes. You looked into hers.

“I missed you. So much.” You whispered.

“I missed you. My spider”

She kissed you tenderly. Her hands gently caressing your muscles. Her touch was like fire as it danced across your skin. You’re very being ached for her.

You kissed her back, your hunger for her burning over. Ava let out a little moan, pulling back to look at you. Her eyes darkened a little.

She took ahold of your hand and gently pulled you towards her bed.

“We have tonight” she smiles at you.

“Yes we do” a genuine smile made its way across your face. You kiss her jaw and neck as you pull at her tank top. Little whimpers escape her lips. A few escaping your own.

You hoist her up and lay her down on her bed. Ava giggles softly as she pulls you down with her.

Your love. Your rhythm. Your pace. It was like muscle memory for the both of you. Her gentle cries of ecstasy were like forgotten music to your ears. Her fingers raked down your spine, sending pulses of euphoric bliss through your body. Your pants, your soft moans were her drug.

If tonight was all you had, then it was gonna be a good night.

Muse continued to paint on the alleyway wall. A cut on his arm provided the paint for this project.

“Spider…Tiger…they’ll be my greatest work of art yet.” He muttered under his breath.

He stood back and looked at his work. The Spider symbol painted to look like it was shattered.

To Be Continued…

Tags @deafeningsharkslimeempath @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @jacenradio7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @orion-owls @texaswolf23 @edgeofthedark0 @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @iiconicsfan25 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @vikingking-05

[tgmsunmontue]

You look like a bad idea... 1/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - based on this idea here. Bradley is not a naval aviator. Canon deaths (it starts at Ice's funeral). Addiction and alcoholism (and recovery) mentions.

PART ONE

                Jake watches the proceedings with a sense of polite disinterest. He didn’t know Admiral Kazansky personally, is here because it’s expected of him. He’d rather be flying, training, suspects he’s not the only one. They’re on a time crunch. However, he also knows that without Maverick there to push them that extra little bit then there likely not much point. So here they all are.

                The only thing that’s breaking up the boredom is watching the… son? of Admiral Kazansky. He’s an attractive man, looks at ease in his finely tailored suit and Jake wonders what his story is. He’s listed under children of Admiral Kazansky, but doesn’t have the same last name; then again neither did either of the daughters. Blended family is what Jake would put money on. A first marriage or child out of wedlock wasn’t mentioned in the eulogy at all, but he supposes that probably would have been bad taste.

                So Jake is enjoying watching him. He’s interesting to watch, accepting condolences from the brass and other funeral attendees. He seems to know most people here and again Jake wonders what his story is. Then the guy’s eyes fall on Phoenix and they light-up, a brief moment of sunshine in his otherwise sombre expression and Jake supposes it is his dad’s funeral.

                However, making a play for someone seems a little… crass. And if Trace is his type, then Jake definitely isn’t going to make a play. But holy shit. Trace is smiling back. Putting her plate down and just… He always knew Trace had balls, but watching her now, sauntering over to the guy like she… oh. Going in for a hug. Which he’s returning.

                Right.

                Okay then.

                So they clearly know each other, heads bent toward each other and talking quietly, now equally sad expressions on their faces. Then Trace is hugging Admiral Kazansky’s wife even harder. Rather than answering any of his questions it throws up a dozen more. The guy, Bradley, catches him watching and Jake simply nods his head in acknowledgement, not sure what else he can do. He lets his eyes slip away, makes small talk with some of the other squadron members, passes his condolences on to Maverick who grips him in a tight hug.

                Weird.

                Maverick gives each of the other Dagger Squadron members the same treatment and he’s not sure if that makes it more or less weird. Regardless, Trace is rejoining them, and Maverick has a few more words to say to her and they’re too quiet for Jake to hear, but she’s nodding and he’s even more intrigued now, and she accepts the hug from Maverick with more grace than the rest of them.

                “Phoenix…”

                “Hangman…”

                “You know the family?”

                The way her lips twist tells him she definitely does and is trying to figure out what to share with him. Jake waits, knows people love to fill silences and spill their secrets.

                “Sarah is my aunt. My mother’s sister.”

                “So… Admiral Kazansky was your uncle.”

                “Yes.”

                “I’m sorry for your loss…”

                She looks surprised at his words and Jake keeps his expression carefully blank, because do people really think he’s that much of an asshole he’d make light of someone dying? Or not care? Maybe he needs to dial down his attitude just a little. At least with the people he likes. Or can tolerate. He’s never been one to suffer fools, but hell, this is getting dire.

                “Thanks… he was…”

                “Sick. Yeah. Doesn’t make it any easier. All it does is give you time to say goodbye…” Jake says, and his jaw tenses, hopes like hell she doesn’t start asking if he’s got experience. Doesn’t want to ever answer those types of questions. “What’s his story? Your cousin, right? Bradley?”

                She glances to where he’s looking, where Bradley is standing talking to yet another Admiral, looking perfectly at ease. Jake supposes he probably grew up around them.

                “Don’t even think about it. He’s… I love him. But he’s a fucking mess in everything but his professional life. Just… stay away if you know what’s good for you.”

                Hmm.

                Hell.

                It’s like she doesn’t know him at all.

PART TWO

[ichabodcranemills]

I might be a minority here, but I really disagree with that theory that Helena thought Mark liked her, because, honestly, I think it makes Helena seem a bit stupid. He knew he didn't like her. Except maybe if it was about her personality, and she was right because he did like it. But I'll elaborate.

This got lengthier than I expected. I also rant about the drowning scene.

I think Helena is well aware that Mark S likes Helly and if at any point he was to learn that it was her outie there instead, he wouldn't like her. What she does believe, though, imo, is that she's entitled to that affection.

Not in the sense, as people said also, that she went to the severed floor for love. come on. look at her face on 2x02, both when they said "we'll give him everything he wants, including Helly R" and when she goes down the elevator. Helena doesn't want to go to the severed floor.

However, the moment she saw the footage of the kiss, she realised her innie had a richer life than her and once she saw Mark going all dewy-mouthed about her (and the hug and all that), she thought "hey, why shouldn't I enjoy that as well?".

But she knew it wasn't about her. She knew he wouldn't like Helena Eagan, and that's why she admits she doesn't like who she was outside, but not who she is.

However, however, she would be correct in assuming that Mark likes the person she was when she was down there. Because he did. Sure, Mark had feelings for Helly since before the OTC, but those feelings matured in the weeks between the OTC and the ORTBO and, although we can't tell how much of the person she was down there was truly her and how much it was her portrayal of Helly, imo opinion, a lot of it was her. Not just because she and Helly are the same person and some characteristics are intrinsic to both of them, but also because I think that, down there, she let out a real side of her she doesn't allow to surface anywhere else. And Mark liked that, and that's part of the reason why he felt so betrayed and guilty.

So I think she'd be correct in assuming that he liked her personality, while acknowledging he couldn't like Helena Eagan (both because she was deceiving him and because she's an Eagan).

That said, something else I REALLY disagree with that derives from that "he thought he liked her and at the drowning scene realised that that wasn't true", is that that's now how I read the scene at the waterfall At All.

Again, probably a minority here, but that scene wasn't about no one doing anything to save Helena Because Mark, even in his confusion, even if he hated Helena, wouldn't be okay with Irving killing Helly's body. Similarly, Milchick wasn't frozen because he didn't care.

IT WAS BECAUSE IT WAS A WHAT THE FUCK MOMENT

No one was prepared for Irving to straight up drown someone (nope, not forgave him yet), and they were further frozen because of the revelation. Helena's shout is what spurs Milchick into motion because it snaps him out of that.

I really don't think Helena would've read that scene as "Mark doesn't care about me, he didn't come to save me", because no one had time for anything. Because if Mark was on his right mind in those brief moments where he wasn't running to save her, he would've run towards her anyway, because that was Helly's body.

I don't want to say that this is another excessive victimization of Helena, but. well.

Like, things were dire enough for her. She was drowning, Helly's father figure caught up on her, threatened her (just like her own father does!), tried to kill her, busted her cover. She doesn't need, from a writing perspective, to also say "oh, and both Mark and my subordinate would let me die", like. She's a tragic enough figure without that.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 51

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms, trying to comfort yourself as you wait. The front door opens and the only harbinger of your visitors are their footsteps. The grim pall of the house swallows them up as they shuffle over the doormat.

You don’t look over as their figures appear as shadowy blurs in the edge of your vision. You’re too humiliated to face your guests. Not truly yours, but Loki’s. Like everything else; this house, the very couch you sit on, the clothes you wear. Isn’t that what he’d only just berated you for? Taking it all so ungratefully.

“Darling,” Frigga’s the first to speak as she approaches, almost sheepishly, “my, I’d say it’s lovely to see you both but you look dreadful.”

You wince as she nears and shrink down, bending your legs as you long to curl into a ball. You hug your knees and curl your shoulders. She hovers over you, turning to speak to the others.

“You must open the curtains, it’s awfully gloomy in here,” she demands.

Loki mutters but at a grunt from his father, he acquisces. You stare at the black pants as he tears open the drapes, the rod ringing with his efforts. Another figure looms close. Odin shifts and places his hand on the armrest behind your shoulders.

“I see all is in a state of fine order,” Odin proclaims dryly, “you have this poor thing hanging from the troughs–”

“Father,” Loki sneers as he faces the room again. He steps forward, trying to tidy his wild curls, made even more defiant by his neglect. You notice his attire; his shirt is untucked and clashes with his tan trousers. “I will not be lectured.”

“Oh, dear, look at her face,” Frigga lowers herself to sit on the edge of the sofa and touches your arm kindly, “her dressings need changing.”

You avert your eyes and bite down on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten your nose and the peeling bandages. All that wasn’t as dire as the walls.

“Mm, and that isn’t my fault, mother. It isn’t I who would injure her thus. Rather your golden child,” Loki spits. “If you’ve come to argue the point further, I haven’t the time to hear it.”

“Son,” Odin girds, “do not rile yourself with presumptions. We’ve come to make sure you are well, as any decent parents might.”

“Hm, because you’ve always been so eager to visit, father,” he scoffs.

“Eh, Loki,” Frigga squeezes your arm before she stands again, “we thought to share some news to you. In person as it were. You wouldn’t answer the phone but we do believe you deserve to have it straight from us.”

“Oh, what is it now? Are we celebrating the solstice?” Loki folds his arms and lifts his chin, “you can check us off as not attending, thank you.”

“Now, don’t be an ass,” Odin growls, “if you would hear us, you might not have the urge.”

“Why should I listen to you, eh? Did you listen to me? Did you hear me when I walked in bruised to the gills? Did you hear me over that lout’s lies?” Loki snarls, “you made no move to stop me going but here you are, pouting and begging forgiveness. 

“Well, let me make it clear, you and that cretin you call your eldest son, will not entangle yourselves in another of my marriages. It will not happen. I told you that morning and I meant it. He is no brother of mine and if you continue to pander to his misdeeds, then you will count yourself two children, not three.”

You tweak a brow and tilt your head as his rant swirls over you. Marriage? Surely, he only misspoke.

“Would you listen?” Odin’s voice booms, echoing around the room as he steps around the couch and punches his palm. “We do count only two children; you and Hela.”

“Right,” Loki says unconvinced, “certainly, you will do your best not to let me share a table with him again. We can pretend nothing happened. That he did not accost my wife. Just as before, it is under the carpet as we stomp it into submission.”

“Wife?” Frigga murmurs in confusion and glances at you. You feel her gaze but don’t meet it. You’re just as confused.

“I mean it,” Odin insists and turns to look at you, “I am ashamed that my son would hurt you, dear. Brute as he is, I cast him out. He is banned from the house and wiped from my ledgers. Should you wish it, I would gladly testify to his guilt.”

You don’t reply. Which son does he mean? The one who chased you through the night or the one locking you in the dark?

“Thor is not welcome in this family anymore. If you hadn’t run away…” Odin faces Loki again.

“Oh, forgive me for my skepticism, father,” Loki grimaces, “you’ve not exactly earned a lot of trust from me–”

“Nor you me,” Odin counters.

“You never gave me a chance,” Loki hisses, “very well then, thank you, oh, great father, for practising an ounce of good judgment.”

“Boy,” Odin wags his finger at his son as he steps closer.

“Boy?” Loki exclaims, “get out. Now.”

“Loki,” Frigga screeches, “enough. We’ve come all the way here to apologise to you and… her, and you are being insensible. Would you hear us?”

Loki rolls his eyes. He keeps one arm across his chest and bends the other to flutter his fingers dismissively, “you kept him in my life. You begged me to look past his slights for years and refused to see them until someone got hurt.”

“Yes, we were neglectful. Willfully blind,” Frigga says sadly, peeking back at you, “seeing you that morning, and now, the bruises, and her… we… we are very sorry and we can understand that it might be too late for all this but we only want to be heard.”

Loki is quiet, roiling as he breathes loudly. He swallows and sniffs, “yes, you should look at her and see what he did to her.” His lip twitches, “and if I had not been there, imagine what he would have done–”

You close your eyes as you feel a weight over you, feel the suffocating heat, hear Thor’s sinister tone, ‘little maid’.

“Stop!” You throw your hands up as your eyes snap open, “please stop, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Frigga spins and once more rests herself on the couch’s edge, “you don’t have to. Please, you’re safe. He won’t bother you again. I’ll be sure of it.”

You knot your fingers together and twist until your knuckles hurt. You can’t look at her, at any of them. You shake your head and shrug.

“As you can see, she is not ready for company,” Loki asserts.

“What I see is she’s being shrouded away in this crypt,” Frigga rebuffs, “she requires sunshine. She needs healing, not paranoia.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been through,” Loki accuses, “how can you know what she needs?”

“I have eyes,” Frigga snips, “darling,” she speaks to you, “would you like some tea in the garden? Just you, I wouldn’t want to infringe.”

You gulp and rub your neck. You nod, “yes.”

“See?” Frigga pets your knee kindly before she stands again, “I won’t tread upon your toes, son, you get her the tea and see her to the garden.” She sidles aside to stand with her husband, “and then you will explain to me this whole marriage business.”

You glance over at Loki, the same question nipping at your ears. Was he confused? Why did he say all that? Marriage, wife? No, prisoner and warden, that’s what it truly is.

✨

Slowly the doom recedes. The warmth of the sun beams down as you keep your finger hooked in the handle of the tea cup. You let the steaming brew go cold as your eyes devour the scenery. The greens, the violets, the indigos, and pinks. Colours all around.

You suck in deep breaths of the spring air, tasting the last dregs of dew and the floating pollen. You hear the council of sparrows hiding in the bushes and watch the pair of doves bobbing across the grass. Bees buzz between the blooming stems and insects flit back and forth through the air. The seasonal renewal is underway as a whole new world awakens.

Beneath the serenity, there is fear. This won’t last. This is just a brief respite from your desolation. A flicker of light in the dark.

So you bask in it as much as you can, for as long as you can. You can’t help but peek over at the french doors and wonder about what’s happening behind them. What is being said? Are Frigga and Odin still there? Is Loki still angry?

You cup your chin and take a sip. This is all you ever wanted. You only wish he would have listened to you. Why must someone else talk sense into him? Why can’t he just hear you?

Your vision hazes as you drift into the peaceful hue. The spring swallows you up and mutes your worries. You cling to that moment, knowing the end will come sooner than later.

The doors open and pierce the spring soliloquy. You look over as Loki steps out. His shirt is tucked in and he’s tried to comb his hair. Still, he looks out of sorts. His eyes are circled darkly and his cheek tics as his jaw clenches.

He watches you as he nears the table, standing across from you as he extends his long fingers to the iron surface. He takes a breath and looks around. He retracts his hand to rest on the back of the chair.

“May I?” He asks.

His request surprises you. That he would even want permission. After all, this is his home, all of this is allotted to you at his whim.

“Sure,” you sit back and let go of the teacup.

He drags the chair out and lowers himself. He bends his arms over the table and his head swivels again, as if searching for something. He clears his throat and turns straight. He stares at you as you peer down at the table.

“It’s beautiful out,” he comments, “the tulips are coming in.”

You nod, “yeah, they’re pretty.”

He exhales and shifts in the chair. He taps his fingertips then weaves his fingers through each other. He stills his fidgeting.

“How is your tea?”

You look down at the cup, mostly untouched. You raise your eyes to meet him and purse your lips.

“It’s fine,” you answer, “what’s going on?”

He circles his thumbs around each other and pushes his shoulders up before forcing the tension out, “I thought I would… come enjoy the garden with you, pet.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“Oh,” he echoes staunchly. “Unless, I am disturbing you?”

You shake your head, “I thought you wanted me to go inside…”

He frowns and lowers his chin, “I…” he begins then unclasps his hands and sits straight. He rests his elbows on the armrests and his cheek strains, “I want you to be safe.”

You nod and look at your lap as you think, “your parents said Thor is gone.”

“Yes, so he has been cast out. For how long, I can’t be certain,” he sighs, “but he is not my only worry.”

“What else—”

“If I’d not discovered your escape, you would’ve fallen and hurt yourself worse.”

“Loki, I… I’m sorry but I couldn’t–”

“And you do not eat when I bring you food. You hardly sleep.”

“What about you?” You toss back as you raise your head.

His lips thin, “yes, what about me. I am just as guilty in all this, I see that now.”

You’re quiet as you consider his admission. It’s a rare moment. Not exactly victory, but a consolation. As much as you can hope for.

“I appreciate all you have done but I… don’t want to be a burden anymore,” you say, “if that’s how you feel about me, I think we’d both be better off if I left.”

He goes rigid and his throat tightens, “pet…”

“Or maybe I could just be the maid again. We could go back to that. That would be okay.”

He huffs and hangs his head. He brings his fingertips together as he seems to argue with himself. Slowly, he lifts his head, “no, that simply won’t do.”

Your face falls, “please don’t lock me up again.”

Your eyes gloss as you pout, begging him wordlessly. He winces as his mouth slants, one way then the other. He mulls on your plea.

He tilts his head one way then the other, stretching out his neck. He slips his elbows off the armrest and grips the chair, pushing himself to his feet. He rolls his shoulders straight and rounds the table. He stops beside you and lowers himself down to a knee. You watch him, confused.

He takes your hand and draws it over the side of the chair. He holds it in his, stroking it as he peers up at you.

“You cannot be a burden or the maid, and you certainly may not leave,” he says, “you are going to be my wife.”

You blink. You’re not sure you heard him right. He squeezes your hand and you look down at his grip.

“Loki?” You babble.

“I haven’t picked a ring, I’m sorry,” he pulls your hand to him, leaning in to kiss it, petting it, “but perhaps you might help in that.” He puts his other knee down and moves even closer, “we will have a lot of planning to do, won’t we, darling?”

He angles to lean his head against your arm, keeping his hand on yours. You’re paralysed. He’s proposing to you but there isn’t any room for your rejection. Like all other things, it’s a command. You have to keep yourself from answering, ‘yes, Mr. Laufeyson.’

You look down at his dark tresses and let out the breath racked beneath your ribs, “I’ve never been to a wedding.” The statement is hollow and numb. You don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles and lifts his head to grin up at you, “well, how exciting that you’re first will be your own.”

[prettybaby-reid]

Laying Down on the Lawn

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings; general angst, brief mention of Reid's daddy issues and addiction, plot set during the Emily fake death plotline

When you first joined the BAU, it became glaringly obvious that your personality more closely resembled that of Ms. Penelope Garcia, than that of anyone else on the team. You were the team's personal sunshine maker. What stood out most about you was how affectionate you were, always leaning on, hugging or just touching team members in some way, you’d even managed to get a couple hugs out of the ever-stoic Aaron Hotchner. It wasn’t long until the team started coming to you when they needed help, giving Garcia advice when she argues with Kevin, listening to Rossi ramble about his ex-wives, letting Emily open up about her relationship with her mother; whether it be a bad case taking a toll on them, or a more pressing issue, you quickly became the first person the team went to when they had an issue.

This role became especially dire when Emily died. You’re alone in your apartment late one night, when you hear a soft knock on the door. You get up from your couch and open the door to see a clearly distraught Spencer Reid. It was the first time he’d come to you, always cautious, worried that you were going to leave like Elle, Gideon, or even Jj who had just taken up a job at the Pentagon. You were shocked to say the least, the tall genius was currently standing outside your front door, tears streaming down his face. You quickly pulled him inside, moving him to your couch. That was the first time Spencer had opened up to you, the first time he had come to you for help and the first time you’d held him. That would certainly not be the last

Spencer Reid would never outright say that he was touch starved. It’s the same way he would never outright say he was an addict, or that he has daddy issues, or that he uses work as a means to distract his overloaded brain from thinking about how most of the father figures in his life have left in the same way, leaving him with only a letter and broken promises; but all of those things are true, and Spencer Reid is as touch starved as they come. 

Spencer’s touch starved tendencies came slowly but surely. At first it was just him coming over and holding your hand when he’d had a rough day. Then it was a slight hug whenever you guys would finish a case, but nowadays Spencer is practically glued to you. Hotch actively has to separate the two of you in the field because the poor boy just can’t let go. Maybe that’s how you ended up here, exhausted on your way back to Quantico with Spencer laying in between your legs, his head resting on your stomach as he sleeps. It’s calm. The only sound other than the team breathing in sleep is Hotch flipping through reports. You play with Spencers hair, and for once in his life, instead of being touch starved, he’s touch full.

[black-cat-luck]

Would you be able to do how the kids react when Bruce is hurt really badly

yes!! I love this :]

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

Dick

𖥔 He panics. He’s the strong one, he tries to remain level headed to keep everyone else calm and so they don’t send themselves into a panic attack, he is always calm and collected in stressful situations.

𖥔 But oh god that’s a lot of blood. In this moment he isn’t actually sure what happened, he doesn’t even remember who they’re fighting, where they are. A pained cry escapes his throat as his hands press over the bleeding wound in Bruce’s chest. He hears yelling, the others trying to get him and Bruce somewhere safe, trying to get Dick to tell them how bad the injury is, what can they do?

𖥔 “I-I don’t know!” Dick cries, every second of training, every hour spent learning how to stay calm under stress, stay levelheaded, assess the dangers around you first and never let your guard down, it’s all left him. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, because Bruce isn’t breathing, Bruce is bleeding out in his arms.

𖥔 Thankfully for Dicks sake, this was a league mission, so he doesn’t have to be the collected one. Superman is able to get both of them out of danger, he speaks close to Dicks ear, not because the boy is listening, but because the comms are on and Alfred is already readying the batcave for their arrival.

𖥔 Bruce makes a perfectly fine recovery, and Dick is mortified by how he reacted. He knows Bruce will be disappointed, he knows he will be shamed for letting himself be so weak, risking not only his own life, but Bruce’s by leaving them vulnerable in the battle field. Instead Bruce sets his hand on Dicks head, ruffling his hair softly, before his expression becomes serious, hand gently holding his cheek. “I’m here Chum, you don’t have to be embarrassed for being scared. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He says, and Dick cries again, laughing wetly. “You nearly died and you’re apologizing to me?” He asks, it sounds ridiculous. “Yeah, cause I know I would’ve been the same if it were you.” Bruce says it effortlessly, and Dick leans over, hugging him, careful of the healing wound. They’ve both lost too much to be able to lose each other, and that’s what’s the scariest, that they wouldn’t be able to survive losing anyone else, and they can’t promise they won’t. Dick just has to remain strong, and make sure he always has Bruce’s back so this never happens again.

Jason

𖥔 Jason’s anger has always been his strong suit. He was the happy Robin, the cheerful little boy that bounced on his feet and laughed and joked even in dire situations, and that was his weakness. He would’ve been inconsolable if he had Bruce not breathing at his feet like he does right now.

𖥔 But now Jason is angry. He would never admit it in a vicinity Bruce can hear, but how dare they try and take his dad from him? It’s easy for him to let his anger take control, to be violent and bloody because Bruce can’t see him murdering right now because he himself was just almost murdered. It’s not an almost yet, he hasn’t taken a breath in three minutes. Jason can hear it all, through his own blood rushing through his ears, he hears the others talking; he wants to tune it out, he wants to ignore it but he needs to know when Bruce is okay, when he breathes again.

𖥔 Fuck Jason hates the guy, he can’t stand to even look at him but he’s fighting back the sick rising up his throat as he hears his own thoughts. What if this is it? Bruce can’t come back from this. It’s over. The last thing Jason ever said to him is I hate you.

𖥔 Jason finds the man that stopped Bruce’s heart, and screams in anguish as he tackles him to the ground. His guns are thrown aside, his mask is yanked off his head because he’s killing this man. Not a bullet, not Red Hood, Jason Todd is killing this man. He didn’t kill Batman, he killed Jason’s father. His hands shake violently as they squeeze at his throat. He can’t hear the commotion anymore, he can’t hear anyone’s words, his eyes shine green as tears fall past them.

𖥔 I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. He’ll never be able to take it back. He’ll never get to apologize, to mend what was broken, to forgive Bruce and get to be his son again. He’s just a weapon, he’s just a solider, he’s a murderer. The man’s neck snaps underneath his hands as Bruce takes in his first gasp of air.

𖥔 Jason slowly stumbles to his feet, shaking as he faces the others, there’s looks of disgust, of horror, of understanding. Bruce is struggling to his feet, looking at Jason, even with his cowl on Jason knows he’s afraid, he’s confused, worried.

𖥔 “Let’s get home Bat, you need rest.” Jason wraps Bruce’s arm around his shoulder, dragging him along. Batman doesn’t utter a word, nobody does. Jason slams the door to the Batmobile shut, bloody knuckles going white from how he grips the steering wheel. He swerves recklessly, he’s crying, his hands are shaking, he can’t breathe and he’s terrified, all of his adrenaline crashing as he swallows back sobs. He can’t forgive Bruce, he’s tried to kill him himself, why was it any different now? “Thank you, Jason. I love you son.” Bruce rasps, and that’s why. Jason can’t move on because Bruce is right next to him; and he’s alive, and breathing, and Jason is his son.

Tim

𖥔 Tim is scary. He’s seen Bruce worse than anyone ever has. He’s been through it all, he dragged Bruce up from the ground, all while Bruce clawed at him and tried to stay buried. Tim is scary when Bruce is nearly killed, because he will stop at nothing to make it right.

𖥔 Bruce is put into a coma. To the media it was a car accident. To Tim, it was watching Bane snap Bruce’s body over his leg, breaking his spine; nearly killing him. Tim was on auto pilot after it happened, quickly assessing the damage, demanding Oracle to send help, to Nightwing and Red Hood to stage an accident, they need civilian clothes, Bruce Wayne needs immediate medical attention.

𖥔 Tim Drake-Wayne sits in the hospital room, watching Bruce only able to breath because of the machines he’s connected to, body stiff, bruised and cut up, a small incision in his skull to let out the swelling. A medically induced coma to save his life. They’re not even sure if it will save him; time will only tell.

𖥔 Nightwing says he’ll handle it, he’ll get Bane dealt with. Red Hood makes it clear he’ll be killing him now that Bruce can’t stop him. When Dick and Jason visit the hospital room Tim is already gone. Tim has already set his own plan into motion.

𖥔 Robin doesn’t kill because Batman doesn’t allow it, and because Tim fears it would push him over an edge he doesn’t want to face. Tim does not directly kill. Bane’s henchmen and goons are simply in the building when Tim watches it explode from a rooftop a safe distance away.

𖥔 Tim watches as car bombs, and traps that end in blood splatter are tripped, as men stagger into deaths they could’ve easily avoided, I mean really how are these people working for Bane and falling into their own deaths so easily?

𖥔 Over the course of a week they’re all ticked off, like a grocery list. Tim moves quietly, effortlessly. He’s already gone by the time anyone thinks to look. He’s never seen by the time anyone tries to make a guess on who it might be. When Bane is the only one left Tim is reaching his breaking point. It’s been seven days, seven days his father has been comatose, teetering dangerously close to brain dead, to never waking up. Tim sees Bane and his reserves from before are slowly slipping away. He’s never been this angry before.

𖥔 Nobody would believe a witness that says Robin shot Bane point blank and disappeared. Nobody would listen to a bystander that was high off his mind when he swears he heard the kid scream that his father might never recover and it’s all his fault, before spraying the wall with brain matter. Nobody believes Robin would ever do something like that because he’s just an innocent little boy, Batman doesn’t kill, where would he even get a gun?

𖥔 On the ninth day Bruce wakes up, and Tim is beside him, he doesn’t let anyone see him cry, so he only smiles and hugs him; whispering how grateful he is that he’s okay. They call a nurse in, Bruce is groggy but coherent, there’s no damage, no risk.

𖥔 Dick arrives exhausted, having been patrolling as Batman to keep Gotham from being suspicious. He’s still got a smidge of eyeliner not fully wiped off when he hugs Bruce, eyes studying where Tim sits, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. He smiles innocently and Dick nods. Tim knows Dick is aware of what he’d done. Tim doesn’t mind that Dick knows, because Tim knows Dick won’t tell anyone, because Tim doesn’t regret what he’s done, and he will do it again if he is pushed to that point.

Damian

𖥔 Damian is never one to be perceived as weak. He will not allow anyone to even think he could ever be weak, he is never weak. Ever. He doesn’t show emotions, he isn’t just some kid. He is a trained assassin, he is stronger than anyone that could challenge him. He is the son of the Bat. He is Robin.

𖥔 Damian’s pride gets the best of him sometimes. It was a simple mission, sure Batman is bleeding but he’s walking it off, telling Damian it’s just a flesh wound, he’ll be fine. They don’t have the Batmobile tonight, and when Bruce reaches to call for it, he falls.

𖥔 Damian is immediately racing to his side. He tries to catch him but he’s too late, and it’s probably for the best because Damian forgets how small he is, and how heavy not only his father is, but the extra hundred pounds of armor in his suit. Damian struggles to push Bruce onto his back, panting as he overlooks him.

𖥔 “Father! Where is your wound?!” Damian shouts. Bruce makes a choked noise as blood drips past his lips. Damian remembers him clutching a side, but he doesn’t know which one, he doesn’t know much right now, his heart is racing, his hands are shaking, and he finally yanks the cape back to see the blood pouring from Bruce’s side. “It probably hit a kidney father why would you insist on it being a flesh wound, do you have any idea how bad this could’ve been if you’d left it??” Damian is still yelling, despite Bruce being unconscious.

𖥔 Damian tears at their emergency gauze with his teeth, he’s applying pressure to the wound, but it’s getting slippery and he stumbles, he’s patched up wounds before, why is this one different? Why won’t the blood stop? Why is he alone with Bruce getting paler and paler with each passing second?

𖥔 Damian is not weak, he does not need help, but he is scared. The blood is not stopping, the gauze isn’t working, Bruce is not responsive. Damian stares at his bloody hands as he starts to panic, hyperventilating as he searches for his emergency beacon, for his comm, for anything. His hands are slipping, he’s covered in blood, he can’t breathe.

𖥔 “Robin I’ve received your signal what’s wrong?” Red Hood’s voice through his ear makes the tears finally fall, and Damian gasps for air. He hears other voices chiming in, everyone live on the comms, and everyone hears him crying.

𖥔 “Robin, deep breath, give us a report.” Nightwing says, they want him to breathe, but they need to know why he can’t in the first place. “Batman is down. I cannot stop the bleeding, I cannot move him on my own. I need immediate help, he is unconscious, and getting critical.” He manages out, throat rough as he tries to swallow, as he stares down at his father as the blood begins to pool to his knees.

𖥔 “I’ve sent his location, Red Robin and Red Hood are the closest. Robin they will be there in three minutes, I’ll help as I can, what happened?” Oracle asks, and Damian takes a shaky breath, relief and guilt overwhelming him, but he hears Nightwing’s voice encouraging him to breathe; and he follows his instructions.

𖥔 Damian tells her everything that happened, what rooftop they’re on, what he did to try and stop the bleeding. While he’s still steadying his breathing with Nightwing Red Hood arrives. As Jason is putting pressure on the wound and instructing Damian to grab gauze, Red Robin arrives, and Tim quickly takes over, leaving Damian sitting and watching as they patch him up in seconds, and Jason is able to lift him up and carry him effortlessly by himself. Red Robin knows him and Robin are not the closest, but Damian is still shaking, and Tim wraps his arm around him and carefully leads him down to where the Batmobile has pulled up. Damian doesn’t speak a word, and the drive is silent once it’s announced over the comms that Batman is secure and inbound to the cave.

𖥔 Damian doesn’t leave his room. He’s embarrassed, ashamed, upset. He was too weak, too defenseless. Bruce lost a lot of blood, if they were any later he might have not made it. Jason was strong enough to lift him, Tim was fast enough to stop the bleeding and wrap him up, all things Damian failed to do in ample time. Even when Alfred notifies Damian that Bruce is awake and well, and would like to see him, Damian does not leave his room.

𖥔 The others give him space, so he’s especially angry when his door creaks open. He looks up with a sharp glare, only for his expression to immediately fall when he sees Bruce slowly limp inside. He’s shirtless and wearing more gauze than skin, holding his side as he carefully steps inside. “Father what are you doing you are on bed rest!” Damian hisses, rushing to his side, he holds one of Bruce’s hands and gently leads him to his own bed; sitting him down. “You wouldn’t come to me.” Bruce smiles as Damian glares again. “I would have, I’ve been busy.” The boy huffs, walking away to distract himself, to not have to see Bruce. He keeps his back to him and pretends to shuffle through papers on his desk. “You know I once fell on Dick when he was Robin?” He suddenly says, making Damian freeze, not responding.

𖥔 “Poor little guy was smaller than you, damn near squished him like a bug. It’s not often Batman falls, but I had a rule with every Robin, if I do, step out of the way. If I’m down, call for help. I would never expect one of you to be able to gather me up on your own.” Bruce hums, and the backs of Damian’s eyes sting as he listens. “I’m sorry for worrying you, and I’m sorry you were alone.” Bruce adds, and Damian faces him, using anger to mask the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m Robin, I’m Batman’s partner, I need to be stronger, I need to be able to be alone.” He sneers, he’s only angry at himself, but he needs to get it out; and he needs to tell it to Bruce, he needs to prove he’s not weak. “You’re also my son. And eleven years old. You cannot be expected to carry a full grown man that’s bleeding out, nine miles on your own. I wouldn’t expect that of any Robin-“ “Todd and Drake seemed to be able to do it perfectly fine.” He spits, his jealously finally mixing in.

𖥔 “Neither of whom are Robin anymore. Jason who’s taller and bigger than me? Tim who’s seven years older than you? They wouldn’t have been able to do it when they were Robin either. It is not a weakness of yours, it is not a weakness of your age, it is simply that you are a boy, and you cannot lift a grown man, I couldn’t lift myself at your age.” He says, laughing as Damian swallows thickly, still not accepting it. Bruce extends his hand, and Damian takes a few steps closer, still looking anywhere but at his father. “You are not weak my son, you should not be disappointed by last night, you were able to call for help when you needed it, you saved me. I couldn’t be more proud.” He says; pulling Damian into an unwilling hug. The boy is stiff, but doesn’t move out of fear of hurting him.

𖥔 “I will be stronger next time.” He whispers; and Bruce hums, kissing the side of his head. “You will be. I will too. You are the son of Batman, hold your head high, you are not weak.” Bruce whispers, and it’s the most comforting thing he can offer Damian, speaking to him the way he knows he needs to hear. Damian will be stronger, Damian won’t let himself lose his father.

Barbara

𖥔 Babs strong suit was being behind a screen. It was what she was best at, better than anything. She loved it, she loved helping people, making a difference, getting to see it all unfold and see people saved again, and again. She held her title as Oracle with pride. Batman wouldn’t be nearly as successful as he is every mission without her. Well, he might be able to be successful, but it wouldn’t be as fast if Babs wasn’t behind him already getting it all done before he has the time to even ask. She prides herself in being a needed ally, more than just a side player that helps occasionally. Batman often offered her the same encouragements, and acknowledges her hard work, and how much she helps them all.

𖥔 It was supposed to be a quiet patrol. Bruce is by himself tonight, Damian is sleeping, Tim is with the titans, Dick is in Blüdhaven, and she’s casually finishing some case files while Bruce sits and watches the city, both of them enjoying the quiet night.

𖥔 Barbara is scared into focus by the sound of an explosion. “Bats??” She asks, quickly typing away, pulling up his footage, and zeroing in on whats in front of him. Bruce moves like he’s injured, a villain attacks him. They’re wearing a mask, she can’t tell who it is. She pulls up the nearby cameras, watching the fight from all angles. She finds where he came from, running the plates and all information on the car, but it reports stolen, and the villain doesn’t match the description as the little old lady that registered it.

𖥔 “Bats talk to me who are these guys?” She calls, pulling up everything she can, Batman hasn’t said a word, and she knows he’s injured, she sees him lose his balance, she hears the scuffle, the back and forth, and then everything goes dark. Every last camera and screen is black. “Bat!” She shouts, trying to pull it all back up. It’s not her system, everything else is working fine, but those few cameras she needs, her comm with Batman, all of it is dark.

𖥔 She stares forward in shock, what the hell happened? She tries not to panic over losing Bruce, assuring herself it’s just some alleyway goon that Bruce will have handled in minutes, so she tries to dive into who this is. She runs everything, vocal recognition, pulling up the neighboring cameras to search for who this is, where they came from, how they snuck up on Batman.

𖥔 Everything leads to a dead end. Barbara curses and slams her hands on the desk, anger overcoming her as her heart starts to beat faster. Why has Bruce still not told her he’s okay? Why hasn’t he fixed the comm, or found a way to send her a signal. Everything’s okay, bad guys apprehended, I’m fine. Where was her reassurance? Batman never goes dark like this, and the fact that everything is turned off from her is terrifying.

𖥔 She pulls up any possible lead she has, anything that could connect her to this, anything they could use. She thinks she’s finally found something when a camera pulls back up; and she gasps, Batman is laying on the floor, not moving, blood underneath him. Then the camera goes black again. Her whole screen is black and she can see her reflection in it, staring in her own eyes. Her hair is down, and the dark of the screen hides her features from her view, and she cries. If she was Batgirl she could help Bruce, she wouldn’t be here defenseless, grasping at straws as Bruce lays at a villains mercy. She doesn’t know if he’s even still alive, if he’s still breathing, she’s just sitting here while Bruce suffers.

𖥔 Barbara has never felt less than the others just because she worked from the safety of the watch tower, she never felt like she wasn’t as vital to them, to helping. But now she does. She’s scared, she’s angry, why can’t she just help him.

𖥔 “Oracle?” Jason’s voice echoes over the comms, and she sighs shakily. “Bat is down, I’ve lost all communication, and all nearby cameras went dark. I’ve just sent you his address, can you get to him?” She asks, voice weak as she stares at a map, seeing where Jason is, only a few miles from Bruce. “On my way. Who is it?” He asks, and her throat is thick as she stares at the screen. “I don’t know. I couldn’t figure it out.” She rasps, it’s humiliating to say out loud, it makes her sick. She doesn’t know, she’s supposed to know. She’s the one that always knows.

𖥔 “All done, Bats is good.” Jason’s voice shocks her. “Wait what??” She replies, and the cameras are all live again, she sees the goons unconscious on the floor. Jason has Bruce’s arm slung over his shoulder. He looks directly at a camera and waves. “They had an interceptor or whatever, knocked everything offline. B might have a headache but he’s fine, they were just some thugs trying to get a jump on him. Gcpd’s already closing in, but I’m bringing some tech back, one of ‘em had something that looks like a homemade vertigo headband, can you look into it?” He asks, and she sniffles, hastily wiping at her eyes. “Sure can; bring it on down.” She sighs, relief washing over her. Bruce is okay, she’s back online, everything is okay.

𖥔 Bruce sits with Barbara as she types everything into a file. He’s benched until his concussion heals, and she’s putting it all into files to save in the bat computer if the thugs he fought ever become a problem again. “You did good.” Bruce compliments as she saves it all. “Hm?” She responds, glancing at him. “With your system going dark, you did good, you still led Jason right to me, still got it all resolved. Thank you.” Bruce says, and she smiles, pride welling in her chest as she nods, facing the computer again. Despite her worries and fears, she didn’t need to be Batgirl to help him, Oracle was who got Red Hood to Batman and helped even when it all went dark; she still did her job, and she did damn good at it.

Steph

𖥔 Steph is an accident with a bat symbol on her chest. She doesn’t try to be, but her need to prove herself, and her fear of her fathers footsteps makes her jump the gun, it makes her so desperate for validation she cuts corners, and makes things messy. She really doesn’t try to, and because she’s so young and anxious she doesn’t realize what she’s done until it happens, and then she’s humiliated and knows she will be looked down upon even more after.

𖥔 So it’s only fitting that one time she cuts corners, it ends with Bruce unconscious, head bleeding, arms still wrapped around Steph from where he’d shielded her with his own body. Steph was not supposed to be on the ground, this was a simple mission, Robin was supposed to be his eyes in the sky, not trying to assist him, not getting herself caught, not getting stuck in an exploding building where Bruce himself gets caught in the explosion to protect her from it.

𖥔 Her need to prove herself is out the window when she shoves Bruce off of her, gasping violently as she sees the way his body rolls limply, the way he doesn’t move, the way his cowl is dripping blood and it’s begun to pool underneath him. She took on this mantle, she wanted to prove she wasn’t like her father, she wanted Bruce to see value in her, and now he might be dying because of her.

𖥔 No, no, no, no. Steph is yanking his cowl off, wincing as his head hits the ground again, making a wet noise from the blood already spilling from it. “Hey, Hey Bat? Cmon, wake up now.” She pleads, voice shaking as she presses gauze to the wound, watching it immediately turn red, she swaps it for a new piece and takes a shaky breath, looking around them. The goons left when they set the bomb, they knew Batman would be too busy trying to save Girl wonder that they could escape, so they’re alone, the Batmobile has already been called to them, so Steph stands and hooks her arms under Bruce’s, yanking upward.

𖥔 She struggles, and pants and cries, but she manages to shove him ungracefully into the car, panic beginning to overwhelm her as she jumps into the drivers seat, fiddling with the shifts and buttons she’s still not too familiar with. Thankfully it has auto-pilot, and kicks itself into gear, speeding down the road as Steph taps at the screen, blood smearing across it. “Hey A, B is hurt real bad. Are you home?” She asks it casually, laughing as her panic rises up her throat, her heart racing as she glances at Bruce.

𖥔 “Yes, I will be waiting in the cave.” Alfred responds, and she swaps the gauze on his head, tears finally starting to fall as she looks at his face. Did she really let Bruce die just because she wanted to be strong? Bruce is bleeding out just because she wanted to prove she was different, prove she could do it. “I’m sorry B.” She sobs. She just wanted to make him proud, she wanted him to care for her the way he cares for his sons, even when she keeps him at arms length and doesn’t let him view her as one of his kids. She doesn’t want a dad. She told them. She has a dad and he’s a bad person and she’s going to prove she isn’t.

𖥔 “I’m sorry dad.” She rasps, staring at Bruce’s face as they come to a screeching halt in the cave. Alfred has Bruce laid on a table and the bleeding has stopped within four minutes. Steph sits, still bloody and crying as Alfred moves fluidly around her, getting Bruce stable, assuring her he is just fine.

𖥔 When Bruce wakes up Steph hands him her Robin costume. He furrows his eyebrows and takes it, still confused. “I almost got you killed trying to prove myself.” She tells him; and he sighs, opening his mouth to respond, but she stops him. “I can’t follow orders, I endangered you, I endangered myself. I can’t be Robin, I can’t live up to what they were, and I don’t want to. I’ll prove myself to you, and I won’t let you get hurt because of me just to do it.” She sounds mature, less scared. Bruce sets the suit down and nods once. “I do not regret doing what needs to be done to save you. I would do it again.” Bruce responds. Scolding her for not following orders seems pointless now, she’s no longer Robin; and she acknowledged her own fault, he doesn’t need to double down, especially not when she’s dealing with her own regret and fears after what happened. “I’m still sorry. I’ll be better.” She rasps, and Bruce hugs her, petting her hair gently as she fights back the tears burning behind her eyes. She’ll prove herself right this time.

Cass

𖥔 Cass stops. She’s always been the quickest one, the slyest, the one to get in and get out and have it not just done, but done good. Cass is untouchable, unbreakable, an unstoppable force hell bent on saving innocent people and protecting the world from the horrors that others bring upon them. Cass is strong because other people aren’t, and they need her to be for them. Gotham needs her.

𖥔 So when she’s fighting, she’s taking out bad guys and escorting hostages out of a burning building, she ends up cornered, hiding a little girl behind her as a goon points a gun at her. “I’ll tell you what little bat, her life for yours. You wanna walk away? Give me the girl. I’ll make sure you don’t have to see.” The man taunts, something sick bubbling in Cass’ gut, fighting down her anger as she analyzes his stance, trying to figure out how to disarm him without a stray bullet possibly hitting the girl.

𖥔 Batman drops down in front of them before she can do anything, giving her a distraction so she can run. She grabs the girl and takes off, hearing them fighting as she goes. She finds an exit and rushes out it, flames dancing inches from them as she runs toward the other hostages, carefully setting the little girl down, she turns back to the building, seeing fire already blocking the exit she just came out from. She wraps her cape around herself and rushes forward, already a step back inside, the fire sizzling around her, and the building explodes. She’s thrown backward, ears ringing as she tries to get back up, adrenaline pumping faster than ever.

𖥔 She hears the people crying, arms shaking as she pushes herself up, only to fall again. Bruce was still in there. She shakily looks up, staring at the rubble ahead of her, gasping for air as she staggers to her feet. Bruce, Bruce. She’s chanting his name, she can’t find her voice, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly, and she lets out a pained cry as she falls to her knees, staring forward helplessly as the red flames dance in her eyes.

𖥔 “Batman?” The little girl from before stands in front of Cass, tears welling in her eyes as Batgirl looks up at her. Cass knows she’s needs to check the hostages, make sure everyone’s okay; count and see if anyone died in the explosion. But she knows part of that answer already, Bruce was still inside, she was too late going back in to save him, he was in there because she let herself get backed into a wall and he had to save her. He got left behind because of her.

𖥔 Cass sits back on her heels, staring at her hands blindly. Now what? What could she do? What was Gotham going to do without having a Batman, how many innocent people were going to suffer and die because Batman died for her? How much death is she going to cause? What did it matter that Batgirl survived if Batman didn’t?

𖥔 “Batman!” The little girl says again; and it only hurts Cass worse, looking up through teary eyes, she sees the girl isn’t even facing her, her back it to Cass, and her arm is extended as she points to the building still burning. Batman is walking out of the flames, holding the same goon that had attacked them. He sets the man down once they’re a safe distance, and Cass is already on her feet, running as fast as she can, and jumping into Bruce’s arms.

𖥔 “I’m sorry for worrying you Batgirl.” Batman says softly, he has to keep their identities safe, he has to watch what he says, but they both know by the way he’s hugging her. I’m sorry Cassie, I’m here. She sobs, body shaking as he holds her gently, rubbing her back through the suit. She’s gasping weakly, mouth moving but no words come out. Even though she’s hidden by her mask Bruce knows she’s trying to speak.

𖥔 “Easy, you’re alright.” He says, setting her down so they’re looking at one another, and she holds onto his arms desperately. “Dad. Safe.” She manages out, and Bruce nods, hugging her again as she cries quietly. They’ll eventually have to pull away and assess the situation, but right now the hostages are okay, and Cass needs to be held by her dad for a little while longer.

Duke

𖥔 Duke working during the day means things are a lot different for Signal than they are for the bats. He has his usual route to patrol, he knows the ins and outs of this city, he knows which places are most commonly victim to robberies and petty crimes, it’s not an easy job, but he enjoys doing it, he enjoys helping people.

𖥔 Duke hasn’t had to stop or fight anyone today. There haven’t been any robberies, no purse or car thief’s, only a stray dog begging for some of his granola bar, it was quiet. Duke sits on a rooftop checking the time and seeing his patrol is almost over, it wouldn’t hurt if he went home half an hour before usual today, nothings happened, he’s sure nothing will happen in these thirty minutes, right?

𖥔 It’s almost like the universe was waiting for him to be ready to head home, because he hears an alarm ringing from a few buildings away. He hurries that way, face falling as he sees several men running out of a bank, carrying bags full of money. He grapples to them, pulling a baton from his utility belt, he’s about to land on the ground when he hears someone scream for help.

𖥔 “He’s hurt someone help!” A woman inside the bank cries out, and Dukes face falls as he looks at them, there’s someone injured, he weighs his options of stopping the thief’s first, or helping the injured person, but as he looks at the man laying on the ground, the air is knocked out of him. “Bruce.” He gasps, rushing over, forgetting about the thief’s as they speed off and disappear, he skids to a stop at Bruce’s side.

𖥔 Bruce Wayne is unconscious on the floor of the bank, bleeding out of a bullet wound in his stomach. “Bruce!” Duke cries out, rushing to his side. This isn’t Batman injured in a fight, or hurt by a villain. This is Bruce Wayne, out in the lively hours of Gotham, getting shot in a bank robbery. “Mr. Wayne, can you hear me? Sir?” Duke yanks his gloves off and checks for a pulse. When he feels one he immediately starts applying pressure to the wound. “He stood between them and me, it’s all my fault.” The girl sobs, she’s clearly a bank teller, her hands and skirt covered in Bruce’s blood.

𖥔 Duke is in full panic, he’s Signal right now, he’s not Bruce’s newest ward, he’s not tending to an injured Batman. Signal the vigilante is helping Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham; a stranger. “Hang in there sir, you’re gonna be okay.” Duke forces his voice to sound controlled, despite the way something sits in his throat, tears stinging behind his eyes.

𖥔 A crowd has formed now, hushed whispers and shocked gasps surrounding him as he pushes harder on the wound, his hands begin to shake, Bruce’s skin is losing color, there really is a lot of blood around them. Getting shot isn’t nearly enough to take down Batman, he would walk it off. But Bruce Wayne hasn’t even woken up, how long has it been now? Duke feels sick, breathing shaky as he wraps the wound.

𖥔 Thankfully someone had called 911 because Duke can hear the sirens, and an ambulance pulls up seconds later. He’s gently pulled back, and Bruce is lifted onto a gurney. “Thank you kid, we’ll take it from here.” An emt tells him, and then they take off with Bruce, leaving Duke alone, leaving the vigilante standing there, covered in blood, with a hundred eyes on him. “T-Thank you, you saved him.” The bank teller whispers, Duke helps her to her feet, moving on autopilot as he stares at his own hands, skin crawling as tears sting behind his eyes. He only nods, disappearing onto the rooftop, and running away.

𖥔 He informs the others, and by that night the thieves are caught by Red Robin and Spoiler, and Duke lies in his bed, he’s in his pajamas, he’s showered, but he stares at his hands and sees the red dripping from them, he feels the weight of Bruce’s body, limp and unmoving, he feels himself clinging to his fathers body, and having to act as a stranger, having to keep their identities separate, and not knowing if he would survive. If that killed him, Dukes last moment with him would’ve been as strangers, being watched by hundreds of eyes, and thousands more from the videos circulating.

𖥔 There’s a soft knock on the door and Duke hums, watching through tired eyes as Alfred walks inside, sets down a phone, and walks out before Duke can say anything. The screen is black so Duke only stares, confused until he hears a throat clear. “Duke?” Bruce’s voice rings through the phone, and the boys tears finally fall, hands shaking as he picks up the phone. He has a moment of fear that he’s going to get blood on it, but has to remind himself that there’s no blood on his skin anymore, he’s sure there still is on Bruce’s

𖥔 “Hey kiddo.” Bruce says when Duke doesn’t respond. “Hi.” He manages to rasp, and Bruce hums at the acknowledgement. “You did really good today.” Bruce says, and Duke cries harder, holding his head in his hands as he stays quiet so Bruce can’t hear. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, and I know you’re beating yourself up, but you did exactly as you should’ve. You let the thieves go to help the victim, you kept the victim stable until medical professionals arrived, you had the situation handled so the thieves were caught. You did everything wonderfully Signal.” Bruce compliments, and then a sob escapes Dukes lips, Bruce doesn’t say anything else and Duke sniffles. “It wasn’t an innocent bystander it was you.” He huffs, a bite behind his words as his own failure weighs him down, despite the fact that he didn’t fail at anything, he did everything he was supposed to do.

𖥔 “And it was you Duke. I’m safe because of you.” Bruce says, and the boy huffs in anger. “What the hell was I supposed to do? If something worse happened? If that was the last time I saw you? I had to treat you like Bruce Wayne; I had to be a stranger.” He says, hurt bleeding through his words, and Bruce hums softly. “Your suit doesn’t mean anything Duke, it is still you inside of it. A suit will never change who we are, what you mean to me. I was comforted that my son was there, not Signal.” Bruce says, and Duke squeezes his eyes shut, letting more tears fall as Bruce takes a deep breath. “I know how you’re feeling, and I want you to know that you don’t have to feel this way, you saved me Duke, and I will never compare you to your alias.” He says, and Duke sniffles, nodding even though Bruce can’t see him.

𖥔 “They’re letting me come home tomorrow, and I’m benched until I’m healed, so we’ll spend some time together okay? Just us, no suits or names.” Bruce says, and Duke smiles small. “Sounds good.” He responds, sniffling. “Good. Get some rest Duke, everything’s going to be okay.” He assures him, and they whisper their goodnights and hang up. The weight has been lifted off of Dukes chest, and he takes a deep breath, lying back down. Bruce is okay, and so is Duke.

Bruce Wayne has a family that loves him, and doesn’t know how they’d survive losing him. And he knows he wouldn’t survive losing them. That’s what makes their family so perfect.

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

This was so fun to write thank you for the request! I love getting to write out Bruce’s relationship with the kids, and had to include all of them for this one, it turned out wayyy longer than planned, had to bring the family together :’). I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. ᡣ𐭩

[woozvc]

shifts.

(part of my seventeen first love series!) [m.list]

synopsis - working at a 24/7 hypermarket and thinking you're about to get killed is not fun...but the dude you meet is beautiful so hey worth it?

pairing — jeonghan x gn!reader (reader is called pretty once)

genre/s — fluff, jeonghan is a menace, friends older brother troupe if you squint, reader works at a hypermarket late at night

cw— mentions of dark streets and getting followed (but like not really because he thought you were someone else), one direction is mentioned for a second (yes this is a cw), a lot of cursing

w/c - 1k ish

it's 11:03pm when your shift is finally over. it's a quiet friday night, the 24/7 hypermart you're working at is pretty empty which is perfect. most of your shift was spend in just organizing the shelfs and listening to music. that's why you love working here, it's easy money and it's near your house so why not?

“y/n! thank you so much for covering my shift today!”

“hey haein, how was your meeting?”

“um..it was fine haha, I know you like your 11-4am shift more but i had no choice, hope I'm not ruining your saturday”

“it's fine, I was free today anyway”

“let me get changed and you can log out” haein gives you a small smile.

haein is a year younger than you, you first met her when she randomly once ran into the shop at 1am in dire need of ramen. it looked like she was on the verge of tears. that told you enough, she was definitely your type of person.

“is it really that cold or are you dramatic?” haein chuckles looking at your large comically hoodie. you got it matching with her a few weeks ago. she wanted to thank you for putting up with her antics at early hours of the morning. you didn't refuse, a free hoodie is a free hoodie.

“it's December and I'm cold." you give her a glare (affectionate)

"don't leave the store until mark comes in and please dont put your headphones on, if someone walks in your need to greet them” haein gives you a small laugh with a salute and hugs you.

walking through this neighborhood has never been a problem. you know this place like the back of your hand, nothing could go-

“huh?” you turn around. there was something. you swear you felt someone walk behind you.

you look around for a minute, no ones around. that's when you decide to book it. taking a deep breath you start to run and crash into something, or, someone.

“haein chill out why the fuck are you running”

“who the fuck are you??”

you stare at the boy in front of you. long hair, lean frame and beautiful eyes-

“you're not haein.”

“last time i checked no I'm not” you quip back at him. being good looking does not excuse being a bitch.

“oh my god I'm so sorry” he extends his hand out to you which you take and pull yourself up.

“you have the same hoodie as my sister so i thought you were her.. I was planning to scare her so that i could ask why she was out so late I'm really sorry. it's just that usually her shifts ends right now and she takes this street home and”

“jeonghan?”

"you know me?"

it made sense. haein would come in sometimes and rant about her menace of a brother who she loved but sometimes was hard to deal with. for someone who has so much shit talked about him, damn does he look good.

you spend the next 5minutes telling jeonghan about how you know haein, the matching hoodies and why you were leaving the store at her shift time.

“she had a meeting with a club? she's not in any clubs?"

"I don't know I don't interrogate your sister"

“maybe you can” he hands his phone out and you give him a confused look

“put your number in, I'll ask you for sister updates. you can be my spy”

“that's creepy”

“I'm just concerned for her”

“still creepy”

“okay how about you give me your number because I think you're pretty”

you're so glad the street has barely any lights or he would've seen you red as a tomato right now. you quietly take his phone and put your number in, no further words needed.

jeonghan smiles at you and saves your number.

“I'll go meet haein now but I'll text you, you have good taste” and he walks away laughing. you stand there confused. what does he mean by good taste??

you start to walk home when it hits you. he pointed at your bag. a bag with a one direction badge on it that you put on when you were 12 and forgot about it.

“definitely a menace.”

a/n - I'm still on hiatus but I wrote this at 4am when I was sad and needed something to do sorry if it's not my best work :/

[goth-mami-writer]

🩶As Close As Strangers🩶

{POV: When drunk Leon showed up at your door that night, the last thing you wanted to do was catch up with your old partner. There was just too much you hadn't told him.}

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

《 Rain was falling against your roof softly that night, lulling the sound of late traffic and other nighttime noises outside your suburban home. But it startled you when a loud, jarring knock came to the door suddenly.

It thudded with an urgency, and you were on alert now with the thought of who could be knocking this late. In the rain, too. You stood up, using your used-to-be police training to creep through your living room to see out onto your stoop.

Your eyes widened seeing no one at first, but there was a shadow that slowly came into the light, and your heart thundered when you recognized the face. You hurried to the door, unsure even with a million guesses as to how he even found your address or remembered you at all.

“Leon?!” You said opening the door in a swing, wrapping yourself tighter in your silk night robe to keep the chill of the rain away.

He stumbled on his feet, seeming like he was reaching for a hug but he stopped, as if he was unsure how to proceed in reintroducing himself. Suddenly it all became clear when he started to slur his speech in a ramble of words,

“I ugh- I was in the…the ugh- ” His hands moved up to try and talk without words, but you nodded in understanding,

“You're drunk.” You said finitely, ready to tell him that he needed to find a way home but he stumbled again, however this time his stance gave out completely as he dropped on your doorstep in a fall.

You knelt down, trying to save him from hurting himself then mentioned in a gasp upon feeling the wetness of rain soaked in his clothes,

“Did you walk here?”

You knew it didn't matter. He was drenched, shivering, probably on the verge of a fever from the cold, and he was clearly too plastered to get himself home. So, you helped him inside, pulling on him gently and supporting his weight to rest him on the sofa for now while you figured this out.

You hadn't seen Leon in years. He looked exactly the same. As if time just hadn't caught up to him yet. You wished you could say the same. The new recruit you were when you knew him was long gone now. You'd changed so much. You wondered if maybe he'd just have to meet you all over again. You were partners at one pretty little point in time, always together and growing together to protect the city.

Now…you felt as close as strangers.

But there was something else. Something so dire that you never got to say to him. Your world depended on it, actually. Leon Kennedy was someone you hoped to never see again now that you'd stayed silent for this long with such a gravelly secret.

You sat him on the couch, watching as clearly his head was swimming from alcohol. He smelled flammable, so you were surprised he wasn't ready to lose the liquor on your living room floor, but he was quiet. And still. You reached forward, trying to convince him to shed his wet jacket to get comfortable, telling him to just lie down and be warm for a while. Quietly, he fell asleep, and you knew that might be for the best. You didn’t want to catch up like old friends. There was too much he didn't know.

Couldn't know.

After a few minutes, your gaze on his nostalgia was broken when he began to stir away from sleep. You never thought you'd see him again but he looked at you tiredly now trying to keep conversation.

“How've you been? Haven't seen you since I moved up to federal. I lost my cell at the bar - I figured I'd see if you were home.” He said with a little more sobriety.

Your blood went cold when you knew you had to lie and you played the only card you had at this moment, which was being as vague as possible.

“I've been fine. Just working…some here then some there. Just busy.”

He nodded but then groaned as he sat up straight. Letting the moonlight in the room illuminate his face. Your expression turned soft, and you watched as winced from a headache - somehow beautifully. You stood up, trying not to be seen awestruck by the eyes that still halted you to this day.

You poured tea that was still warm from the kitchen kettle and brought it over in a mug as it steamed. You promised it would help his headache, and he thanked you in a mutter as he drank.

“How uhm-” You said stuttering now as you sat across from him, becoming more interested in talking after all,

“How've you been?”

Leon swallowed his gulp laboredly, that probably being the only hydration he'd had in hours, and he cleared his throat softly,

“I've been alright. They take me everywhere now that I'm an agent. I'm wondering when they'll let me off the leash for a while.”

You smiled, chuckling to remember how hardcore of a workaholic he was. Even before being promoted to agent, he was always everywhere for the city. Under the governor's orders or the mayor's. He did work like a dog.

You balled up in the armchair where you sat and heard as he spoke further with a growing smile,

“Yanno, I actually caught up with our old chief the other day. I told him that…you were still one of the best partners I ever had. He said you….went on leave for a while? After our last mission, I ugh- didn't expect that.”

Oh God, you thought with a shiver in your spine.

There was no way to explain that little leave of yours without telling the truth. And all of it. You struggled to find an explanation. Another lie. You only nodded, struggling to merely confirm that you did in fact leave the force for a while.

But, suddenly, there was a creak on your stairs where a tiny voice called out in the dark,

“Mommy?”

You both spun towards the stairs where the small voice came from and Leon froze seeing a boy, no older than five, sleepily rubbing his eyes in his pajamas. He looked back to you, silencing himself from even breathing as you interacted with what to be….your small son.

You put on your kind, motherly smile to ask if he'd had a nightmare, to which he nodded so sweetly. You assured him that you'd be up to turn on his nightlight in just a moment and heard him tiptoe back up the stairs with his tiny footsteps thudding.

He didn't see Leon. That was a relief. But Leon also didn't see him, not in this dark.

At least not his face.

However, once there was quiet again, you knew exactly how this night would go. Leon was too quick, he wasn't stupid. He'd piece it together like the trusted detective he was. And there'd be only one person to blame.

��I-” He stammered, getting the first hint that you were lying about something,

“I didn't know you had a kid..either.”

You stayed quiet. Maybe you wouldn't have to open your mouth at all. He could see you weren't wearing a wedding ring. Meaning this boy's father wasn't asleep upstairs or…away on a business trip.

You both were inches away from the truth now, and you saw as the pieces in his mind soon fell into place.

He thought of the last mission you were on together. Not the work of it all. Not the report, and not the recognition you earned for it. It was the night after.

That night.

"Fuck that job", he thought. All he could remember was that night.

Both of you had just finished your report in DC, shook hands with the governor and….tried to fly home. But there was a storm - the flight was canceled. And the only hotel with vacancy within city limits had only one room for the both of you. It didn't matter if there were double beds. Neither of you slept a wink.

"We….didn't even want to," he remembered.

"We just wanted each other. Over and over again."

But what month was it. Was it May? April - No. It was summer.

It was July.

“He's not yours, Leon. Christ!” You said in a quiet snap, knowing the face he made when his mind tried to unravel a timeline and do the math.

It was one last attempt at a good lie to make this all normal again.

Leon kept quiet. That face he made- The one that solved cases stayed firm in the thought that he needed to determine whether or not was being lied to. And had been for years now.

He reached to the end table at his side, but he kept his gaze with yours. He told you without words that you had one last chance for honesty before he looked at the photo being tenderly kept in a frame right here in the family room. He didn't need to guess if it was a picture of your son.

He knew.

His eyes moved down, stone cold sober now, and you tried to stop him from using that same ray of moonlight to see how big of goddamn liar you really were. He'd see the resemblance. There wouldn't be a need for him to do any math after that.

“...L- Leon, d-”

“Just fucking stop.” He said cutting you off with the first touch of rage in his tone now that he saw exactly what he'd been left in the dark about.

It was everything.

He began to unsnap this photo away from its picture frame, wanting and needing to hold it in his hands. His jaw tightened and his throat burned. He thought you were a better liar. Or maybe just a better person.

Sometimes, when he was alone, all he thought of was you…in that room with him in DC. Was this why? Because something wasn't right?

“Don't you dare tell me…that he isn't mine.”

He turned the picture of your small son towards you, practically holding the proof in his hands. He didn't need to remember the month you slept together. Or ask you how old your son was exactly.

He knew.

“-When he looks just like me.” 》

(Open to finishing this one ♡ more to come)

[kirstoons]

SDV Sebastian x Female Farmer (Yandere)

Author: Me (kirstoons or Pink_Femonade)

Editor and Queef: @gayrahim

TRIGGER WARNING: NSFW, 18+ content, MDNI, mature and sexual themes

Author’s note: I’ve begun posting this fanfic on my newly created AO3 account (Pink_Femonade). I’m updating my AO3 before I post here so feel free to check it out if you want the latest content. Also, thank you everyone who’s been supporting my writing and also my fan art 💕

Chapter 3:

Summary: It seems like the universe is out to get you as your plans fall apart rapidly.

It’s 6:00 AM Tuesday, Fall 9 and instead of being woken up by your usual rooster call, you’re roused by the loud buzz of power tools. Clearly Robin has already begun her work, so you might as well get up so you can complete yours as well.

You peek out the window before you get ready, just to make sure she’s alone out there with no other members of her family, specifically Sebastian. Seeing that the coast is clear, you begin your morning routine. As you hastily shovel down your slightly-under fried eggs, you begin making plans as to how to handle your night away from the farm and any possible contingency plans should they fall through.

After finishing all your chores on the farm and giving a friendly wave to Robin, you head over to Leah’s house with one of your best aged bottles of cherry wine to help sweeten the deal. Not that it’s necessary since Leah is your closest friend here in the Valley, but it’s more of a “thank you” gift for when she happily agrees to let you spend the night this coming Thursday. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to tell her all the crazy shit that’s been happening with Sebastian (omitting certain details obviously).

As you approach Leah’s little cabin, you see her round the corner of her home with a concerned look on her face and phone to her ear. You only catch a few words at the end of her conversation before she spots you and proceeds to end the conversation. She waves and embraces you with a quick hug, still maintaining a worried look on her face.

“Hey, everything okay?”, you ask with genuine concern. It’s not often you see Leah this stressed out.

“Not really,” she half-heartedly chuckles with a defeated look in her eyes. “I have a wicked bad termite infestation so I’ve been on the phone with exterminators all morning. The fastest appointment any of them have is for tomorrow but because of how bad the infestation is, they’re gonna have to fumigate my house, which means I have to stay somewhere else for the next three days.” She gives an exasperated huff before she continues. “So… I’m looking for a temporary place to stay and also trying to move all my wood sculptures out of the termites path of destruction. Thankfully, the one thing they haven’t gotten to is those so I’m trying to keep it that way. Mayor Lewis said I can store my sculptures and supplies in the community center for the time being so… it’s something.” She looks down at the ground, collecting herself before and looks back up to you. “So what’s up with you?” she asks in a joking tone trying to maintain some optimism in the situation.

“Oh, I…” You debate whether or not to tell her you also needed a place to stay since your problem seems far less dire than hers. “I just wanted to stop by and give you this.” You hand her the hand-packaged bottle of wine with a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck, this is exactly what I need.” She pulls the cork out with her teeth and takes a very VERY long swig. With wine dribbling down her chin, she asks, “think you have room in that big ole farmhouse for one more?”

It’s hard to hide the true disappointment in your voice as you remind her that you’re having work done on the house and that you were also looking for a place to stay. You also apologize for being unable to help your good friend when she really needs you.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you were getting some work done. That’s exciting, though. And you don’t need to apologize. I’m sure Elliot will let me crash, especially if I bring this wine with me.” She glances down at the half drunk bottle of wine. “Or maybe I’ll get him some of Gus’s crab cakes.”

You both let out a light laugh which helps ease your minds and you part ways to focus on your next steps. Plan A was a bust and it was your most solid plan, making you a bit nervous. You remind yourself that you have contingency plans for this very reason. You take a deep breath to rally yourself as you begin walking to Sam’s house.

*****

“Oh shit, that sucks,” Sam says after you explain your situation to him. You even add Leah’s predicament to your story to show how your options are running out. He listens intently but sometimes you swear it’s going in one ear and out the other.

“So anyway, that’s why I was hoping I could crash with you? I know you’d need to ask your mom and I’m totally fine sleeping on the couch.” You try to plead your case as convincingly as possible.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n, but I can’t. My little brother got some virus or something and now it’s spread to my mom, so the whole house is in quarantine.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!!!

“I bet Abby or Seb could help you out though,” he suggests with that sweet grin of his. He’s always so sweet and willing to help but hearing Sebastian’s name sends a cool chill down your spine. Damn, it’s impossible to be mad at Sam with his puppy dog expression and sweet sincerity. He’s always been so warm and kind to you, even when you were the new girl in town.

“Yeah, I’ll probably ask Abby next. Thanks, Sam.”

As you turn to leave, Sam calls out to you, “I bet Seb would prefer you ask him!” It’s an innocent tease, but you feel your cheeks burn bright red as you try to laugh along with him at his little “joke”. You bury your rosy cheeks in your jacket as you book it to Abigail’s place.

You’ve returned to your normal pigment by the time you reach Pierre’s store. You head to the far door near the counter, giving Pierre a brief wave as he finishes up with a customer, but before you reach the door, Pierre calls for your attention.

“If you’re going to see Abigail, I’m going to politely ask you to refrain.” He hands the customer their receipt and waits for them to gain some distance before continuing. “She’s grounded for the next two weeks.”

Uhhh isn’t she a grown woman? You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you watch your last chance at a place to stay (that’s free of Sebastian) evaporate before your eyes. You’re desperate at this point so you try one last ditch effort.

“Oh gosh, I had no idea,” you respond, really laying on the charm. “It’s especially bad timing cause I really needed a place to stay this Thursday.” You go on to explain the construction, and the following series of unfortunate events, hoping to earn sympathy points, and persuade him to make an exception. “So that’s why I’m urgently searching. I promise I won’t be a nuisance and I could stay on the couch rather than Abby’s room.” Your desperation is becoming evident and you rapidly search your thoughts for more convincing ideas. “And I’ll promise not to talk to Abby while I’m here… and…”,you trail off trying to think of a better argument, but Pierre stops you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really wish I could help you but this just isn’t a good time.”

Fucking dick. If he did actually want to help you, he’d agree to let you stay.

“I understand,” you say with a tinge of bitterness. “Oh, I used that wonderful deluxe fertilizer you suggested. It worked wonders on my yams! I might stock up for the rest of my crops too…”

Pierre narrowed his eyes at you and your blatant attempt at bribery. He paused for a moment and you felt a tiny glimmer of hope that he was actually considering your offer.

“The answer is no, Y/n. I hope to see you back another day for that fertilizer.” That was definitely his way of asking you to leave. You give a polite nod in acknowledgment and leave the shop.

How? How is all this happening now?! Why does it feel like the universe is working against you?!

As these questions rage in your mind you turn the corner of the building, hoping to get some explanation. You swiftly approach Abby’s window and give it a few stern taps. You can hear shuffling from the other side and it takes a sec for Abby to come open the window.

“Hey what’s up?” Her tone is clearly irritated though you know that irritation isn’t directed at you. The fact that you came to her window leads her to conclude that you are already aware of her circumstance.

“Why’s your dad pissed? I mean I know he’s pissed a lot but this seems pretty extreme,” you ask, matching her same annoyance in solidarity.

Abby rolls her eyes and explains, “he found my weed stash. I have no idea how he even found it or why he looked through my stuff.” You did find this strange cause you knew where Abby hid her weed and you thought it was a damn good spot, too. She kept it taped to the backside of her nightstand drawer, so you’d have to pull the drawer completely out the the stand in order to get it. “Maybe he saw me pull it out or something?” She tried to rationalize before continuing, “But he obviously knew something since he knew exactly where to look.” It’s clear she’s suspicious that someone ratted her out to Pierre but only you, Sam and Sebastian knew where she kept it.

A lightbulb goes off in your head, and all the color drains from your face. Abby takes notice of your shift in demeanor.

“What? Do you know something?” She presses forward on the window pane urging you to share what you know. But you don’t have any proof, and she’s known Sebastian way longer than you, so why should she believe you? It would also make you look very suspicious, too, if you were to suggest him as the culprit.

“I’m just worried it’s… my fault because of… that time I left my lighter in your room! Like, what if he saw it and was like ‘why on earth is there a lighter in Abby’s room?!’ and then decided to search around?” You can feel your stomach in knots as you wait for Abby’s response.

At first she’s a little puzzled by your admission, but then she gives a soft, reassuring smile. “I seriously doubt that’s what tipped him off but it’s kinda cute that you feel that kind of guilt. Especially for something unintentional.”

You let out a sigh of relief and decide to explain your original intention for swinging by. You can’t help but think that this also gives you a stronger alibi of not being the one who snitched.

“Damn, that is hella unlucky,” she says. “But I’m sure Seb can help you out. He hardly leaves the house anyway so there’s no way he’s got plans or anything. Though, I can’t blame you for trying to find somewhere else instead.” Your ears perk up at this comment.

Has she seen the stuff he does? Has he done it to her? Are you finally not alone in this and someone else knows how fucking batshit crazy this all is?!

“Oh, yeah,” you say, trying to play it cool but wanting her to elaborate. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you know…. cause boys are so gross.” You feel your heart sink into the deepest pit of your stomach. You give an agreeing smile and nod, holding in the fact that you just want to scream. Abby continues. “I mean, can you imagine what Sam and Seb’s rooms would look like if you held up a black light. Ugh, it grosses me out just thinking about it.”

Again, you agree with her and accept your defeat. You trudge your way back to the main road and you head back to your farm with your head hung low. It’s a chilly evening and Robin is still working when you return, so you approach her and let her know that you’d like to take her up on her offer. She seems so pleased to hear you accept her invitation and begs you to join them for dinner that night, as well. Being the people-pleaser you are, you reluctantly agree and head inside. The dread of Thursday is already setting in, no matter how hard you try to push that feeling away.

You plop down on the couch, worn out from physical and emotional exhaustion. You get a text notification on your phone and as you go check it, expecting it to be Leah with a termite update, your breath catches in your throat.

Sebastian:

Glad you came to your senses and accepted the invite. Such a good girl

It feels as if your heart could pound right out your chest as you read and reread his text. You have so many questions and are completely terrified at this point.

Do I… should I… respond?

You shakily type your reply.

Y/n:

Why are you doing this? How did you do all this???

He responds mere seconds later, though it feels like an eternity of watching those three little dots appear, disappear and reappear over and over.

Sebastian:

So impatient. I’ve got to hold onto some of my secrets, you know? Be a good girl, and wait just a bit longer. I’ll be sure to reward my princess for her obedience

A second text soon follows.

Sebastian:

Also, I’m sure this goes without saying, but let’s keep this between us. No need for anyone to know our little secret, right? You’re such a good, obedient girl. However, if you do go and tell anyone else, that would make you a very bad girl, and I would be forced to punish you

You drop your phone beside you and lay there on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You’ve grown tired of trying to out maneuver Sebastian and his sick games, leaving you begrudgingly accept your fate. You lay on the couch for hours, unable to bring yourself to move, until you eventually fall into a restless sleep.

[master-muffinn]

Tensura slime Jealous headcanons

With Shion, Souei, Rigur, Gabiru and Rimuru

Shion

10/10 Jealous. 

👊 Everyone will know when Shion is jealous. She will talk badly about the person she is jealous of and whine a lot. Treating the person unfairly, unless anyone (like Rimuru) says anything about it and tells her to stop.

👊 She complains and asks you about why you choose to spend more time with anyone else but her! She is your partner, not them! *continue to complain until you give a reason and give her a hug*. She’s needy of you and your affection now. Unless you are spending time with ‘her’ friends then Shion seems fine with it.

👊 If anyone is complimenting you she accepts it greatly with pride and agrees with them but not without making it clear that you are already taken. “I know! Aren’t my s/o just so amazing?! I’m so happy and lucky that I am their partner!”

Souei

8/10

🔪 This boy does get jealous, not that he would admit that and he would hide it pretty well. Perhaps only the ones who know Souei more, for example Benimaru or Hakuro will notice his change in behavior. He would get more irritated and look slightly more grumpy. You know that😒expression of his…

🔪 Since Souei is a very busy kijin, and going out and learning to know new people and new residents aren't too common for him, unless it’s business or Rimuru asks him to. So if Souei sees you talking to someone he doesn't recognize. You can bet that protective boyfriend is activated. 

🔪 He doesn't come over right away. He’ll watch from a distance at first to see your body language and digging holes in however is making him jealous. He will go between you and the ‘intruder’ if you show even a slight bit of discomfort. And you know how he solves most of his problems, “Should I dispose of them?” “No Souei you don’t need to go that far.”

Rigur

4/10

🍏 Rigur trusts you a lot and doesn't want to ‘control’ your life and he wishes you to treat him the same. But that doesn't mean that he won't get a bit insecure sometimes.

🍏 When Rigur becomes jealous he starts to question himself instead of getting angry at others. Thinking about what he is lacking? If he is good enough? Rigur will try to not think about it and continue doing his daily work, but it's still bothering him.

🍏 If you ask him about it he says it’s nothing in the beginning but as time goes he’ll come back to you and tell you how he feels so he knows where you two stand. “Are we good? You won't replace me right?” Once he knows that you both are fine, he doesn't think about it anymore.

 🍏 If someone is making you feel unsafe and you give him the ‘help me’ eyes he will step in and help. Trying to do it calmly if it works. His loyal doggy companion will be there beside him and look very threatening and let's be honest! Who in their rightful mind wants to pick a fight with a dire wolf? Nobody! So you'll be fine!

Gabiru

9/10

🦎 Dramaqueen number 2. “Hmph who do they think they are?! Do they really think they can do better than ME? I, the great Gabiru, cannot be so easily replaced!”

“Yeah! Sir Gabiru is the best!” 🤩

🦎 Gabiru doesn't tell you about his jealousy because of his pride and he doesn't want you to see him as ‘annoying’ and ‘overwhelming’, but his jealousy is quite obvious. 

🦎In the beginning of your relationship he starts to show off and compete with whoever is trying to ‘steal’ you. He of course can do much better than them! Even if Gabiru were to lose, he won't give you up so easily! Gabiru might seem confident about your relationship on the outside, but deep inside he has this nagging feeling that he isn't worthy of you, which he tries to ignore.

🦎Later in the relationship when Gabiru have matured and ‘know’ that you wont leave him, he handle the situation much better. For whatever the reason he comes up beside you, holding your hand or your waist. “Hello love! Got a new friend?” And just like that, he joined in the conversation.  

And yeah, Gabirus fanclub is supporting him all the way~!

Rimuru 

5/10

🔵 Thinking about how popular Rimuru is and all the people around who love him and most of the time are with him…i bet you are the jealous one.

🔵 He always gives you the ‘i’m so sorry look 😭’ whenever one of the girls is all over him. He tries to keep them at a certain distance to not be disrespectful towards you but it isn't always so easy! Anyway, this post was about him being the jealous one so let's not get side tracked.

🔵 When Rimuru is jealous he gets irritated and whiny but he tries to not show it. He IS the leader after all! He can't behave like a child! Rimuru will keep an eye on the person who is getting your ‘oh so much of your precious’ attention. He just wants to make sure that you're safe and if you're not…well you probably already know how that will turn out.

🔵 If Rimuru feels unsafe and untrusting towards this ‘new friend of yours’ and he himself can't keep an eye on them, he might ask Souei to keep an eye on them, just in case! Tempest is supposed to be safe for everyone, right! 

Bonus:

*Rimuru in his slimeform talking to you through the mind*: “y/nnnn why do you spend so much time with this nobody!! You should spend time with me and not them!”

*You put your hand in front of your mouth smirking at Rimuru*: “what? Are you jealous?”

Rimuru: Are you doing this on purpose?! Is this payback from all the other times?” he says dramatically 

*You walk away with your ‘new’ friend and snicker to yourself*

Rimuru: Nooo y/n come back!! I'M SORRY!! 😭

(Can you hear Rimuru speak through these texts with his voice? Seriously i can 😂)

I hope you enjoy reading my tensura fanfiction once again! Have a good day ❤ Reblogs are very appreciated 🥰

Post made by: @master-muffinn

[itsmiahshemakessense]

Deleted xmas byler fic

Not mine!! but i had it downloaded and wanted to post here in case anyone else wanted to read the fluff masterpiece!

a three-step plan to make will byers fall in love

RomeoWrites

Summary:

It’s Christmas break and Mike Wheeler is having a crisis. Why? Because the Byers are visiting for the first time in almost two years, and sometime since leaving Hawkins, Will has gotten hot. And Mike is dealing with that in a totally platonic way. Or so he insists.  OR The party concocts a three-step plan to get Will Byers to fall in love assuming, of course, that he hasn’t already.

rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom:

Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship:

Will Byers/Mike Wheeler

Characters:

Will Byers

Mike Wheeler

Eleven | Jane Hopper

Lucas Sinclair

Maxine "Max" Mayfield

Dustin Henderson

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Getting Together

Funny

Humor

Fluff and Humor

Sweet

First Kiss

Christmas

Holidays

Christmas Fluff

Language: English Published: 2022-08-09 Words: 13620 Chapters:1/1 Comments: 35 Kudos: 814 Bookmarks: 176 Hits: 5075

Phase Zero: The Pre-Planning

It’s the last day of school before the Christmas break, and Mike Wheeler is distracted. Like, head empty, no neurons firing, kind of distracted. If it wasn’t the last day of term he would definitely be in detention by now, because absolutely no thoughts have passed through his brain in any of his lessons thus far. 

“Dustin,” he whispers halfway into their last math class of the year. “Dustin, I’m in urgent and dire need of assistance.”

“What?” Comes the vaguely annoyed response, and Mike rolls his eyes. It’s the last day of term and Dustin is still insisting on putting up a facade of concentration, despite the fact that literally everyone else in their class is already chattering away, and their teacher does not seem to care one bit.

“Assistance, Dustin. Keep up. I need assistance. Urgently and direly, in fact.”

Dustin fixes him with a look. “You sound like you’ve swallowed a thesaurus.”

“This is not the time to make fun of my extremely well-appointed grasp of the English language,” he hisses. “I’m having a crisis.”

That piques Dustin’s interest. “A crisis? What kind of crisis?”

And truthfully, Mike is not exactly sure, because said crisis only started this morning. At 6:52 am to be exact, when the Byers arrived at his house to spend their Christmas break back in Hawkins, away from California. The party had gathered at the Wheeler’s, where the Byers would be staying, to greet Will and El, who had jumped out of the car and immediately been smothered by a party group hug. Well, a party group hug without Mike who, upon seeing Will emerge from the backseat of Mrs Byers’ car, had promptly melted into a puddle of goo with very limited brain power. He had only just managed to react somewhat normally when Will pulled him into a tight hug, but when Will wryly complimented his Yoda pajamas, he was pretty sure all he managed to get out was ‘guh.’

Because the thing is, Will has been Mike's best friend since they were five. And until one and a half years ago, Mike had seen him everyday. And Will was familiar. His short stature and swoopy brown hair were familiar. His hazel eyes and shy smiles. Will was the type of kid who parents would coo over and teachers loved, because for all intents and purposes, he was cute. Adorable, even. Politely charming with his drawings and ink covered hands. But now? After Mike only had one short visit to California, very early on, and not so much as a photograph of Will before today? Will’s familiar features are gone. And instead Mike came to the abrupt realization this morning, that Will is hot. And that’s not a word that Mike would ever use aloud. But it’s true. Somewhere between before and now, Will has become completely and breathtakingly gorgeous. And Mike is dealing with that fact in a totally normal and platonic way. 

“What kind of crisis?” Dustin asks again. 

Mike shrugs rather helplessly. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Dustin’s eyes gleam with scientific intrigue. “A guessing game, then. Okay, academic?”

Mike shakes his head. 

“Family?”

Still no. 

“Personal?”

Uh - somewhat. 

“…sexual?”

And Mike’s face must look some type of way because Dustin lets out an honest-to-god cackle. “What? You’re having a sexual crisis?”

“No!” Mike quickly amends, trying to do damage control for his facial expressions. “Not sexual. More like, romantic, I guess?”

Dustin levels him with a look. “A romantic crisis, huh? And what, exactly, has brought this about?”

“Uh - well, it’s kind of complicated, really.” It’s not complicated, Mike is just a coward. “It’s just I’ve noticed someone today who I find, uh - who is- well, someone who is rather, um, nice-looking,” he finishes lamely. 

“Nice-looking?”

“Yeah, you know. Handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“Attractive?” Mike tries.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously this repressed? The word is hot, Michael.”

“Right. Yes. That.” Even hearing it aloud sent a little thrill through his stomach as he remembers how good Will looks with his tousled hair and strong jawline.

“Handsome as in male, handsome?” Dustin asks, a polite sort of curiosity in his tone. 

“That would be accurate.”

“Oh, so this is about Will.”

Mike has to stop himself from shoving his pencil into his eye. “How did you know that? Was I super obvious?”

“Just a little bit,” Dustin admits. “Not to Will, though, I think you’re safe there.”

At least that’s a relief. “So, what should I do? You know, about the crisis?”

“Well, what do you want to do?” And Mike is immediately glad he chose Dustin to confide in, with his level-headedness and logic. He isn’t going to blow this whole thing out of proportion. “Because I think you should just tell him that you think he’s earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot, and you know, maybe kiss him. I think he’d appreciate that.”

And oh, look at that! Mike now regrets everything. “I am not going to do either of those things, Dustin,” he hisses. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous?”

“Well, for starters, I’m not just going to kiss him out of nowhere, that’s rude. And secondly, we don’t know that he’s going to appreciate it? He could completely freak out.”

“He’s not going to freak out - and everyone appreciates kissing.”

“Okay, that is so not true, and this isn’t about kissing. It’s about…” Mike trails off, looking for words and Dustin snaps his fingers at him. 

“Oh. Oh, ho, ho,” he chortles. 

“Okay, please stop doing that.”

“This isn’t a sexual crisis at all, is it?”

“I already told you that it wasn’t-”

“This is a love crisis.” Dustin strings out the word love like luuurve and that’s the only thing that horrifies Mike out of evaporating on the spot. Because love is a big word. A huge word, in fact. And also the word that most accurately describes his problem. He is having a love crisis. 

Of course, he immediately denies this. “Actually, you know what? Let’s go back to sexual crisis. I think even that is more comfortable than how you just pronounced love.”

“I can’t believe you’re in love. Well, actually, maybe I can.”

“Okay, no one said anything about love.”

“Of course you’re in love. It’s Will.”

And surprisingly, that’s probably the first thing Dustin’s said so far that makes sense in Mike’s brain. He fiddles with his pencil and considers his options. Number one is to deny, deny, deny. But he’s the one who started this whole conversation, so it’s not like Dustin will believe him. Number two: pass it off as just a physical attraction - something that isn’t serious. Will is pretty and Mike wants to kiss him, but it’s not love. Just one guy appreciating the good-looks of another guy. But then phrase sexual crisis rings in his head, and he immediately vetoes that option. Which leaves him with one more. Admit what he has known to be true for approximately six years. That he is definitely in love, and maybe, just maybe, he’s finally emotionally prepared to do something about it.

“Okay, maybe just a little bit,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth, and Dustin sits back on his chair, satisfied.

“Well, good. Acceptance is the first step. Scoring yourself a super hot boyfriend is step number two.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

“It’s simple. At lunch hour, we’ll lay this all out for the rest of the party and we’ll put our brilliant minds together and come up with a plan.”

He makes it sound so easy, that Mike feels compelled to just let it happen. 

“Okay.” He steadies himself. “A plan. We can make a plan.” Then: “Do you really think Will is going to want that? Do you think he might like me back?”

Dustin rocks back on his rear chair legs, thoughtfully. “Well, scientifically speaking, you know, considering the evidence, I don’t think it’s the most unlikely thing in the world. I’d put your odds at 70:30.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Great. Numbers. Just what I need to help me through this.”

“Hey, math is a great way to figure things out. And those are good odds.”

Mike stabs his pencil into his worksheet, mutinously. 70% chance of success. He liked the sound of that. But 30% chance of failure? That, he could have lived without. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says at last. “You can tell the party at lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

Dustin gives him a final nod and turns his attention back to their assigned work. And Mike tries to do the same, he really does, but by the time the bell rings for lunch hour, all he’s managed to do is doodle a couple of little hearts on his page and one very clumsy drawing of a boy in a wizards hat. He flushes, and scrunches up the paper, tossing it in the bin on the way out.

And maybe he was being somewhat (utterly and entirely) naive, thinking Dustin that would at least try to be a little bit subtle about this whole thing, because as soon as they arrive at their usual cafeteria table, Dustin slams down his lunch tray and with fervor, declares: “Mike is having a crisis.”

And if that wasn’t already enough to send Mike into a half-panicked state, Dustin then adds with a hushed sort of reverence, as if this was the news of the century: “Of the sexual kind.”

“Dustin!” Mike whisper-shouts, trying to suppress his mortification. “That is not what this is.”

“Oh? Did you or did you not use the words earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot?”

“I did not-” Mike’s horrified protest is cut off by the audible gasping coming from the rest of their table.

“What? Who does Mike think is hot-”

“You like someone? This is unbelievable-”

Dustin waves away everyone with an airy hand. “The point is this: Mike has declared himself hopelessly and irrevocably in love-” Mike gives up any attempt to interject and just groans, slapping his hand over his face, “-and it is our job, as his most dear and loyal friends-” (“-only friends,” Max interrupts) “-to help him,” Dustin finishes with a flourish.

“Help him?” Lucas asks quizzically. “You really think we can help him? He’s a hopeless case.”

“Hey-”

“It’s true, Mike,” Max says unsympathetically. “You’re probably the least romantic person I know.”

Mike scowls. “I could be romantic.” Then pauses. “Wait, no. I don’t want to be romantic - this is a terrible idea.”

Lucas points at him. “There you have it. He doesn’t want to be romantic.”

“Yeah, thank god,” adds Max. “That would be a trainwreck.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. And how exactly did Mike end up with such supportive and caring friends? 

Max mimes a ‘you’re welcome’ while Dustin splutters in disagreement. “What? No. You don’t even know who this is about yet. How can you give up so easily?”

And that gets Max and Lucas interested again. 

“Well, tell us then. Who is she?” Lucas asks, and then shoots a glance at Mike. “Uh, he?” 

Max elbows him. “They.”

Dustin looks to Mike as if for approval and Mike just waves his hands vaguely. He supposes it won’t be the worst thing in the world if they find out about Will. Maybe it would make them more sympathetic when every Friday evening he ditches any plans because that’s his and Will’s night to talk as much as they can on the phone until someone kicks them off. 

“Okay. It’s…” Dustin pauses for dramatic effect until Mike kicks him under the table. “Ow! Okay. It’s Will.”

“Knew it.”

“Called it.”

“It’s because of this morning, isn’t it?” Lucas accuses. “You saw him and totally freaked out because he’s all hot now.”

“Yeah, your face was so red, I thought you were going to explode.”

“Okay, can you stop being mean?” Mike directs at Max. “This is a trying time.” Then he looks at Lucas. “And can everyone please stop with the h-word?”

“He has problems with the h-word,” Dustin stage-whispers. 

And great, now they’re all laughing at him, and Mike tries to slowly slip under the table, but Max reaches over and grabs him by the collar. “Relax, Wheeler, we’re only joking. I, for one, am actually glad that you’re finally admitting your feelings, and would be honored to join the noble quest to find you requited love.”

“You’ve come to too many of our DnD campaigns,” is all Mike says to that. 

Max sends him a borderline horrified look. “You know I’m joking when I say shit like that, right? You do know that?”

“Alright, calm down,” Lucas interjects. “It’s not like you’re going to lose any cool credits with us.”

“People!” Dustin claps his hands together. “We are getting off-track. This meeting has been called to help Mike, not to bully him.”

“Meeting?” Mike splutters. “This is lunch.”

Dustin waves him off. “We need a plan.”

“Well, what’s our aim? Our hypothesis?” Lucas asks, and wow. Between the basketball and the general athleticism, Mike had forgotten that Lucas was still, like the rest of them, a huge nerd.

“This is not a science experiment-”

“Experiment!” Max cuts off his protest. “That’s exactly it. We should run trials. Attempts. We should try to set them up.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Mike says loudly.

“That,” Dustin points two, twin finger guns at Max, “is an excellent idea.”

“No, no, no, not excellent-”

“We could each have a go,” Lucas adds, apparently joining Dustin and Max in being deaf to the sound of Mike’s voice. “Make it a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yeah, like, each of us can try to get them together, and the best man-”

“-or woman-”

“Or woman, will win.”

“Genius,” Dustin whispers. “Pure genius.”

All three of them look around at each other with the sort of reverent air that could only be conjured up by a bunch of far too self-important sixteen-year-olds. 

Mike attempts to say something rational. Reasonable, so as to convince them all that this is a very, very bad idea. What comes out instead is: “Are you all actually insane?”

As one, they turn to look at him, as if only just remembering that he does, in fact, exist. By the looks on their faces, they don’t see anything wrong with their plan. Mike sinks back into his seat with a half-strangled sort of moan. “Oh my god. You are. You all are. My three best-” (“-only-”) “-friends are insane.”

“Oh, certifiably,” Dustin says agreeably. “But does that mean this is a bad idea?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“Oh, come on, Mike. You’ve been hung up on Will since we were in middle school - and don’t pretend like you weren’t. Is it really the worst thing in the world if you give yourself a chance?”

Mike considers Lucas’ words, and hears the truth in them. Although seeing Will this morning had jolted something to life within himself, he has long been aware of the feelings he harbors, that were subconscious at first, until all of a sudden he turned ten, learnt what romance was, and developed what was probably the strongest childhood crush in the history of childhood crushes. Of course, now it’s a fair bit more than a childhood crush, so really, maybe this is a good idea. He could do with a chance. 

“And if you do end up woefully and pitifully rejected, hey, the Byers live in California now, so it’s not like it’ll be that awkward,” Max supplies helpfully.

He shoots her a glare, any confidence he had, immediately evaporating. “Right. Will is going to reject me and this is a horrible plan.”

“Oh, lighten up, Wheeler,” Dustin says. “Sure, the painful pull of heartbreak may befall you, but is that any worse than the pain of never knowing what could be, if only you would proclaim your frankly sickeningly sweet, but admittedly adorable, love?”

Max punches him in the arm. “Don’t talk like that.”

But Dustin’s speech, however falsely pretentious, does stir something within Mike. He feels himself slowly nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Seriously, man? That’s what convinced you?”

“I’ve told you before, I’m a poet-”

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you.” Max looks at Mike squarely from across the table. “You’ll do it?”

And what the hell? What does he have to lose, really? (His dignity, his pride, his lifelong best friend, his brain supplies helpfully, but he ignores it.) 

“Yeah. I’ll do it. Proclaim my love, or whatever.”

Dustin beams at him. “Great! What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

Lucas covers Max’s mouth before she can answer.

“Yeah,” Mike says, brain spinning with possibilities. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Phase One: Max’s Madness

Immediately after school, the plan commences. Sometime during their shared science lab (while Mike sat, miserable and alone, relegated to a separate bench for secrecy purposes), Dustin, Lucas, and Max had put together three strategies to be executed over the next three days, that will supposedly ‘make Will fall in love, like he never has before’ according to Dustin (‘assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you’ adds Lucas). Of course, they don’t tell Mike what any of these strategies are, but he knows that each of them is responsible for one. He dreads Max’s the most. 

They all cycle to the Wheeler’s, and for the first time in his life, Mike wishes the distance between his house and school was longer, because all he wants to do right now is delay, delay, delay. Max catches his eye as he’s mid-deep-breath, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast. 

“Would you calm down?” Max asks. “You’re acting like you’re going to have a heart attack when you see him.

“Maybe a heart attack isn’t the anatomical reaction he’s worried about-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Dustin,” Mike warns, ignoring the amused look between him and Lucas and the face of mock-disgust from Max. “I’m calm. I’m very calm. Never been more calm.”

The group share disbelieving glances. 

“Alright,” says Max. “Just try to take deep breaths so you don’t start stress-sweating. That’s not the impression you want to give off.”

“I’m not trying to give off an impression. Will already knows everything about me, it’s not like I’m suddenly going to show up and he’s going to think I'm an entirely different person.”

“Well, I don't know, man. Your look is kind of edgy now. Maybe Will likes emo boys.”

“I’m not emo,” Mike objects, but secretly feels a little pleased about the assessment of his style. “Besides, he saw me this morning. I don’t look any different.”

“Yeah, well, this morning you were in Star Wars pajamas, so maybe give edgy a chance.”

Mike flushes a little. “I’ll have you know that Will said my pajamas were cool.”

The group shares another disbelieving glance, and man, Mike was getting sick of those. 

“Looks like California has made Will forget about the friends don’t lie rule, huh?” Dustin laughs, and Mike doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about shoving him off his bike. 

They reach the house and Mike feels in a tizzy. He lets Lucas and Max frog-march him to the front door, sure that if he walked by himself, he would never make it. 

“What’s today's strategy, again?” he asks.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dustin answers unhelpfully. 

“Great. Just great,” he mutters to himself as he fumbles for his key and opens the door. 

El greets them as soon as they walk inside. “Finally, you’re home! We’ve been so bored all day, waiting. Will’s still upstairs, but he’ll be down in a minute.”

Mike’s stomach does a disconcerting little flip when he realizes that Will is probably up in his bedroom, where he’ll be sleeping for the next two weeks. Mrs Byers and El are in Nancy’s room since she (and Jonathan) are staying at college during the break. Will got stuck with Mike’s floor, since they didn’t have another spare bedroom, and really, Mike is not complaining. Still, he hopes he didn’t leave anything embarrassing around when he left this morning. 

Then he hears Will’s voice as he comes down the stairs and balks. “Okay, abort mission,” he hisses to the group. “Abort. This is a terrible plan.”

El looks at them, confused. “What plan?”

Dustin starts to say something, but cuts himself off when Will appears and looks around at their guilty faces. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Lucas leaps towards him, trying (and failing) to affect an air of nonchalance. “William!” He wraps his arm around Will’s like they’re an old married couple from a Jane Austen novel and guides him down the rest of the stairs. “Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is going on, don’t you worry about that.”

Will looks bemused. “Why are you talking like that?”

“No reason, no reason.”

“Um, okay?” Will shifts his eyes around the room until they land on Mike, and then his lips tilt up into a smile. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike stares until Max elbows him in the ribs. “Oh, uh - hi.” And that is definitely not the usual octave he speaks in. 

Will gives him a strange look, but presses on. “How was the last day of school?”

“Um, it was…” Mike thinks back to their lunch time conversation. “Productive.”

Will gives him another bemused little smile, before starting up a conversation with Lucas and Max. Mike takes a moment to try and jumpstart his brain, since currently it’s only able to focus on the fact that Will is wearing a tight, long-sleeve, black shirt and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in that color before.

“Why are you acting weird?” El asks him suspiciously, and Mike jumps a little.

“I’m not,” he says defensively, “I’m acting very normal.”

El raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t push any further. He distracts himself by dumping his backpack and shoes in the hall, and shrugging off his coat, until he hears another voice.

“Will, sweetie?” Mrs Byers calls from upstairs. “Will you help me set up this bed for a moment?”

Will rolls his eyes, but starts to climb back up the stairs. “Be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears, Max starts whispering to El very rapidly and Mike squints at them. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re not telling her the plan, are you?”

The look on El’s face tells him everything he needs to know. “Oh my god.” He throws a hand over his face in embarrassment. “Just tell the whole world, won’t you? Maybe Will while you're at it? Save us all some time.”

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” says El. “I don’t think you need a plan, just tell Will how you feel. And be honest.”

Max scoffs. “You want Mike to express his feelings? With words? Be serious, El. You saw him just then, he was a stuttering mess.”

Mike doesn’t even try to argue because it’s an entirely accurate statement. 

El still hesitates. “But, it’s not like a trick?”

“No!” Dustin says. “It’s not a trick at all. We’re just helping them along. Creating romantic scenarios.”

“Romantic scenarios,” El says slowly. “Like from movies.”

“Exactly,” says Lucas. “Like, Max’s plan is today, and mine is tomorrow. And I just know that mine is going to work perfectly.”

“What is it?” Mike tries. He gets no response. 

“And you think these will work?” El asks. 

She received three identical nods in reply. She considers them all for a moment, before finally saying: “Okay. But only because I want to see Will happy.” Then she looks at Mike. “And you too, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Mike grumbles. “Always good to be a second thought.”

El shoots him a bright grin and loops her arm into Max’s, dragging her down the basement stairs. “So, tell me about your plan…”

With the girls gone, Mike looks around at Lucas and Dustin, feeling more than a little mortified. “Was it really that bad? Am I a stuttering mess like Max said?”

Lucas claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Well, let’s put it this way. Will still seemed plenty happy to see you, so we’ll count it as a win.”

Mike forces himself to take his hundredth deep breath of the day. “Okay, Mike,” he mutters to himself. “You can do this. You can talk like a normal person to Will - in fact, you literally did that last night on the phone. This isn’t any different.” He ignores the way Lucas and Dustin are looking at him like he’s completely lost the plot. “You just need to be calm, and remember that Will likes you. You’re his best friend. He’s happy to see you, and you just need to act normal.”

He exhales one more time and looks up. “Okay, actually that really made me feel better.”

Dustin just looks at him. “Okay, buddy.”

But, truly, Mike has mastered the art of self-pep-talks because when Will reappears, Mike bounds up to him, even managing to sling a casual arm around his shoulder, and steers him into the kitchen. “Go to the basement,” he calls to the others. “We’ll bring snacks.”

As they head into the kitchen, Mike can’t help but feel ridiculously happy. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Will in his house, and familiarity makes his heart swell.

“I like your new haircut,” Will says as he pulls some sodas out of the fridge. “It’s very… you.”

Mike feels absurdly pleased. “Thanks,” he says, turning around to grab a bag of chips so Will doesn’t see him flush. Will just hums in response, and when Mike turns back, Will reaches a hand up and tugs gently on one of his curls, letting it spring back up after. Mike swallows hard.

“It looks really good,” Will murmurs, his hand just barely brushing Mike’s cheek as he brings it back down. Mike accidentally pops the chip bag and both of them jump.

“Sorry!” His voice is an octave higher than usual, so he tries again. “Sorry. Held it a bit too tight.”

He turns around again swiftly and hunts for a bowl, trying to stop his heart from pounding. He pours the chips out, grabs a couple of chocolate bars from the cupboard, and turns around once more. Will is leaning nonchalantly on the counter.

“Ready to go?” Mike says, holding up his haul. Will shoots him a smile and grabs the sodas.

“Onwards, paladin,” he says with a dorky grin. “To the basement.”

Mike huffs out a laugh, feeling the knot of nerves in his chest loosen a little. It’s just Will, he reminds himself. “After you, cleric.”

They head down the stairs and almost make it into the basement, when Mike pauses, hearing a noise from behind the laundry door. “Hear that?” He nudges Will’s leg with his foot, hands holding their snacks.

Will tucks the soda pack under one arm and opens the laundry door. Chaos unfolds before Mike’s eyes. Lucas and Dustin are arguing in a corner, Max is sitting cross-legged on top of the dryer, and El is crouched on the floor next to a huge puddle of soapy water. In the middle of it all lies a bundle of wet, shiny material in distinctive tones of red and navy that Mike recognises.

“Are those our sleeping bags?” Mike is somewhat incredulous at the soapy, sopping mess of fabric that is spread before him. “What the hell happened here?”

El stands back up, holding one of the sleeping bags. “Wet,” she says, helpfully. 

“We can see that, El.” Will’s tone is sort of resignedly amused, like he had expected nothing more from the group of four in front of them. “I think what Mike means is how did this happen?”

El shrugs, clearly the appointed speaker of the group, probably because they know Mike won’t get mad at her. “Washing machine.”

Mike sighs in exasperation and shares a helpless glance with Will. “Any chance these will dry before bedtime?”

“I mean, unless your dryer has super-machine capabilities…”

Even a dumb half-joke like that has Mike laughing, and he sees the look Max gives him like, damn, you’ve got it bad.  

Dustin grins around at them all, like this was exactly what was supposed to happen this evening, and Mike slowly starts to suspect that maybe, it actually is. And then Max confirms that suspicion by saying, “Guess you’ll both just have to sleep in Mike’s bed tonight, huh?” 

“Yeah, since the sleeping bags are unusable, and all,” adds Lucas. 

“Wet,” says El again. 

And Mike is a second away from throttling them all, because maybe before he could have gotten away with letting Will take his bed, and just spent the night on the basement couch, but now that they’ve said it aloud, it would be weird for him to say ‘no, we can’t share a bed, Will, because actually I have extremely un-heterosexual feelings for you and I will probably end up holding your hand or doing something equally stupid.’

Will nudges his side. “Guess we will.”

And between that and the frankly demonic grins the rest of his friends are sporting right now, Mike knows he is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely doomed. Of course, this is Max’s plan. He should have seen that one coming. 

Once Mike’s finished mopping the laundry (because he doesn’t even want to think about his mom’s face if he left it like that), they finally settle in the basement to watch a Christmas film. It passes far too quickly, and Mike feels like he barely has time to appreciate how Will sits next to him, legs tucked under himself, ankles and socked feet draped over Mike’s lap. Before he knows it, his mom is calling them all upstairs for dinner. And in what feels like an instant, the rest of the party has left, El has flounced upstairs to her room, and the parents are sipping mulled wine in the living room and talking about adult things. It’s only 9 o’clock, but he and Will wander up the stairs and set about getting ready for bed. 

Mike dawdles in the bathroom after brushing his teeth, trying to put off the inevitable. He even takes the extra time to floss while giving himself another mental pep-talk, and by the time he’s pushing open his bedroom door, he feels almost confident. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound casual. Will is sitting on his desk chair, absent-mindedly flipping through a comic book.

“Hi,” he says back, gesturing to the bed. “Want to go to sleep? I know it’s kind of early, but our flight was at, like, 2am this morning, and I feel like I’m about to collapse from exhaustion.” 

Mike grins at him. “Well, we can’t have that can we?” He switches off his bedroom light and makes his way to his bedside, turning on his lamp. Before he can think too much about it, he slides under the covers, carefully positioning himself so none of his body crosses the halfway mark of the bed. Will doesn’t seem to have any such qualms because when he joins him, he curls up right next to Mike, nudging their ankles together, and turning to face him on the pillow.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he says in a whisper.

“Not since we were maybe ten,” Mike agrees.

“Remember when you used to have a bunk bed? And I always would start in the top bunk, but if I ever left to go to the bathroom or something, I would never be able to climb back up the ladder in the dark, so I would just sleep with you instead.”

Mike laughs at the memory. “Yeah, you were way too short to even be climbing that ladder in the first place. The steps were weirdly far apart.”

Will nods in agreement and then says with a hint of teasing: “Well, I’m not that short now, am I? I’m almost as tall as you.”

“Almost,” Mike whispers back. “But not quite.”

Will hums in response and then yawns. “Okay, I really am tired now.” Then he hesitates. “Um, leave the lamp on?”

Mike nods quickly. “Of course.”

Will sends him a sleepy smile, and tugs the duvet over his shoulders. “Thanks,” he whispers. Mike watches as his eyes slowly flutter shut and his breathing evens out, and wow, Will was not joking when he said he was tired, because it took him all of about thirty seconds to fall asleep. 

Mike does not experience the same luxury. He lies awake for what feels like hours, feeling hyper aware of every place Will is touching him, and really, Will couldn’t possibly have laid down any closer, could he? Mike’s almost falling off the edge of the bed, and he longingly eyes the large, empty space on the other side of Will. Of course, he doesn’t mind being close like this (quite the opposite, in fact), but the point remains; he is about two inches away from crashing painfully to the floor. 

Carefully, he eases his arm free where Will is holding it, and tries to somehow maneuver his body over the top of Will’s and make it to the other side. Of course, his plan fails abysmally when Will rolls over and accidentally dislodges Mike’s arm, sending him toppling down onto him. Will lets out a sound of muffled confusion, and Mike scrambles off as fast as he can.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just me - I was kind of falling off the edge, so I tried to move.”

Will blinks his eyes open blearily and squints at him. “And you climbed on top of me? Instead of getting out of bed and walking to the other side.”

Right. That would have been the obvious solution. “I didn’t think of that.”

Will lets his eyes fall shut again. “Sorry for squishing you,” he mumbles. “I’ll lie further away.”

“No, it’s fine!” Mike says a little too loudly in his haste to let Will know that he really doesn’t mind. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Let’s just lie a little bit more in the middle of the bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Will says, and rolls back over towards Mike again, tucking his head under Mike’s chin. “Goodnight.”

Mike awkwardly wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders and wriggles around until he’s fairly comfortable, with Will’s head resting on his chest and his hair tickling his nose. He feels somewhat surprised that Will is being so affectionate, although they had been fairly tactile with each other before he moved away, so really, why would now be any different? But something about it being in bed makes it feel a million times more intimate and Mike’s stupid heart skips a beat. 

He admits to himself that, annoyingly, Max’s plan seems to have worked incredibly well. He’s definitely not going to tell her that, but still. There’s a vague sense of gratitude floating around his body as he finally drifts off to sleep. Phase one is over, and they have two more to go.

Phase Two: Lucas’ Stratagem

After Max’s plan yesterday went off without a hitch, Lucas apparently decides to let Mike in on his own plan a little bit, and pulls him aside when the party arrives after breakfast.

“Okay, today is phase two,” he whispers. “It’s a two-pronged approach. A stratagem, if you will.”

“A stratagem?” Mike whispers back. “What are we meant to be out-strategizing?”

“Your romantic incompetence,” answers Lucas. And ouch. Mike secretly thinks that Will didn’t seem to mind his romantic incompetence last night, but he says nothing. “All you have to do today,” Lucas continues, “is be your usual hopeless self. It’s the perfect plan because it capitalizes on who you and Will are as people. You’re clumsy at the best of times, and Will is generally coordinated. The two prongs. It’ll be great.”

Mike quite honestly has no idea what Lucas is talking about, but the promise that his clumsiness is going to come in useful isn’t one that he particularly likes. It’s not his fault that his limbs are far too long for his own good.  

He starts to understand when Lucas turns to the party, at large, and announces: “Ice skating.” 

Mike fights back a groan. He sucks at ice skating. “Do we have to? I mean, it’s freezing out.”

“You’re just scared because you have terrible balance,” Max argues.

El jostles his shoulder and says, “Like bambi on ice.”

Will turns to look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Come on, Mike. It’ll be fun. El and I skate all the time back in California, and the lake is so pretty this time of year.”

And when Will is looking at him like that, how could Mike possibly say anything but yes? “Fine. But if I fall on my ass, I’m holding all of you responsible.” He points a threatening finger around the room as Max rolls her eyes. 

Will beams at him, and then ducks a little closer. “Don’t worry,” he says in an undertone as the party starts pulling on coats and hats. “If you’re really that bad, I’ll hold your hand.”

Okay, so maybe ice skating is, in fact, a terrific idea. He hates and loves the fact that Lucas most definitely saw this coming. He convinces his mom and Mrs Byers, who are drinking wine in the kitchen, to let them borrow a car, and after a warning to drive carefully, the party is off. 

Lover’s Lake (and no, the irony of the name does not escape Mike’s notice), is always frozen over at this time of year, and it’s a long-held Hawkins tradition for it to be set up as an ice rink. Fairy lights have been strung over tree branches at the shore, and a stall is set up renting ice skates for a few dollars an hour. He pushes Will’s hand aside when he tries to pay, figuring that he should at least try to put a bit of effort into making this date-like. It’s definitely worth it when Will leans close to his ear to whisper a thank you that makes his neck tingle. 

The party kick off their shoes and pull on their skates, and make their way (some with more difficulty than others) onto the ice. Will immediately speeds off, hand in hand with El and the two start a lap around the outskirt of the fenced-off portion of the lake that forms the rink. All bundled up in their winter coats and hats, they look closer to twins than siblings, and the sight makes Mike feel warm.

“So much for holding your hand, huh?” Lucas’ voice sounds in his ear.

Mike whirls around unsteadily on his skates. “You heard that?”

Lucas gives him a knowing smirk. “This is my plan, Wheeler. It’s my job to hear things.”

“Okay, calm down, you’re not a superspy.”

And then Lucas actually winks. “Maybe I am.”

Mike narrows his eyes, suspicious. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Lucas just shrugs, and starts skating away towards Max.

“Lucas!” Mike shouts after him. “If you’re not going to tell me, at least help me skate!”

Dustin sidles up to him after Mike’s spent a few seconds hopelessly spinning on the spot. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, huh?”

Mike can’t help the longing glance he throws in Will’s direction. “Right. You and me.”

Unhelpfully, Dustin is almost as bad at skating as he is, and together they attempt to unsuccessfully propel themselves towards the center of the lake. (“You’re terrible at this-” “Oh, like you’re any better-” “Stop leaning on me!” “I have to lean on you, you’re shorter than me-”)

Eventually the Wonder Twins make their way towards them, probably out of pity. They stop right in front of Dustin and Mike, and Will looks frustratingly elegant on his skates. 

Mike glares at him. “How the hell are you so good at this?”

Will simply grins, and reaches forward to take Mike’s hand, and Mike’s annoyance immediately evaporates. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”

El and Dustin seem to get the hint, and they start to skate away together, leaving Will and Mike standing on their own, right in the middle of the rink. In Mike’s mind he can picture that if they were looking at the lake from above, he and Will would be standing somewhere in the top-right-hand-corner of the heart that it’s shaped into. 

“Your hands are freezing,” Will remarks, starting to tug Mike along. “Come on, move your feet a little. No - don’t lift them up! Just glide.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mike mutters, although he’s no longer irritated. “Tell me again how long it takes to learn this?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. El and I go skating pretty much every weekend. There’s not much else to do in Lenora Hills.”

He says Lenora Hills with a little eye roll that makes Mike pause. “I thought you were enjoying California?”

Will makes a face. “Well, yeah, I mean school is good - less bullies and all, and definitely less creepy supernatural stuff, but still.” He squeezes Mike’s hand. “It doesn’t have you.”

And that feels like an opening, if there ever was one. Mike squeezes his hand back. “I’ve really missed you. I know I say it on our calls all the time, but it’s true. Hawkins isn’t the same without you.”

Will’s face is flushed, and Mike hopes that it's from his words and not just from the cold. As they slowly shuffle along Mike has to fight the urge to do something ridiculous, like kiss Will. He settles for snatching the red beanie off Will’s head with his spare hand instead, and jams it on his own head.

“Hey,” Will protests. “Get your own hat.”

“This is my hat,” Mike informs him dryly. “You stole it from my wardrobe this morning.”

He expects Will to shoot another remark back at him, but instead he brings them to a stop, and slowly fixes how the hat is sitting on Mike’s head, tugging out a few pieces of hair that were caught. “Well, if you’re going to steal it back, at least wear it properly,” he says quietly. 

Mike’s face feels much warmer than the hat could ever make him, and Will can definitely tell because he starts grinning. “Feeling warm?” he asks innocently.

Mike just punches his arm before grabbing his hand again. “Come on, let’s skate. I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

He was not, in fact, getting the hang of it. But after a while (and more than a few stumbles that had Will catching him before he could topple onto the ice), he’s finally able to glide forward with some semblance of coordination. Both he and Will conveniently ignore the fact that they probably don’t need to hold hands anymore, and start making their way over to where the others have gathered near the shore.

“Well, don’t you two look adorable,” Lucas teases. Mike grabs a handful of snow from the bank and shoves it in Lucas’ face. The movement makes him tilt forward a little, and Will grabs him around the waist to steady him.

Lucas now looks positively gleeful. “Shut up,” Mike mutters. Then, because he wants a distraction: “There’s hot chocolate being sold on the other bank. Shall we?”

El quickly agrees, clapping her mittened hands together, and as one, they all set off. Mike may or may not purposefully stumble at the start so that Will holds his hand again. Max shoots him a look, but hey, it works, so Mike is not complaining. The others start up a light conversation that Mike lets fade into the background as he sneaks glances at Will out of the corner of his eye. Halfway across the lake, it starts snowing, and little snowflakes hang off Will’s eyelashes and hair. Against the wintery white background and the distant fairlights that glow in the trees, he looks ethereal. Of course, then he shoots an evil grin at Mike and shouts: “Race you!”, and Mike’s moment of inner awe is promptly ruined.

Groaning to himself, he attempts to follow the rest of the party as they speed across the lake, whooping and shouting. He’s vaguely impressed with himself when he makes it to the other shore in one piece, only a minute behind the others, and also ahead of Dustin. Will grins at him and presses a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate into his hands.

“Good job,” he says, steam from his own cup floating in front of his face. “You didn’t fall over.”

Mike takes a sip of chocolate and immediately regrets it as he burns his tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re a good teacher.” He sticks his tongue out and attempts to catch snowflakes to soothe the burn, and Will laughs at him. They make their way over to a quiet spot on the shore, a little ways away from the hot chocolate stand, and sit down on a tree root. Mike watches his friends as El attempts to teach them all to skate backwards.

Will presses his leg against Mike’s and asks: “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” he replies, honestly. “Yeah, I really am.”

The smile that Will gives him is brilliant. “I’m glad.”

“I have a good time whenever I’m with you,” Mike blurts out, unable to stop himself. He promptly buries his head in his hot chocolate cup and blows so the steam rises, hiding his face from view.

Will is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “That’s how I feel about you, too,” he says, voice soft. “You always make everything better.”

Mike feels as if someone has dumped his hot chocolate on his head, with the way his whole body is suddenly warm. Feeling daring, he wraps his arm around Will, and Will responds by tucking his head onto Mike’s shoulder. And for a moment, it feels like the whole world grinds to a stop. Mike can no longer hear the laughter of his friends, all he can feel is the gentle tickle of Will’s hair against his neck, and the sweet taste of chocolate in his mouth. He wonders if Will also tastes of chocolate. 

Gently, he squeezes Will’s shoulder and says, “I wish you were here all the time. I know California’s been good for you and El, but still. I just wish you could stay for a little bit longer.”

Will rests his hand on Mike’s leg and exhales slowly. “I wish I could stay, too.”

There’s something in his tone that Mike doesn’t quite know how to place. Almost like he’s hiding something. But the moment is a little too perfect for him to press further, so he just accepts Will’s words with a smile that’s a little bit sad. At least, when they’re back in separate states, he can rest easy in the knowledge that Will misses him too.

Phase Three: The Dustin Conspiracy

The next morning commences day three: phase three. Mike has to admit that everything has gone surprisingly well so far, and when Dustin announces that it’s time for: “Christmas baking,” Mike is expecting today to go great. They stick on some Christmas music, pull a gingerbread recipe from a magazine, and get to work.

Of course, between the six of them, things rapidly devolve into chaos, as Lucas attempts to crack eggs, El tries to whip butter, and Dustin sits on the counter and calls instructions (“No, Lucas, don’t put the shell in-” “I’m not trying to put the shell in-” “Max that’s flour not sugar!” “And who died and made you head chef, Dustin?”).

Mike shoots Will a smile as they hunt around for the cookie cutters. “Our friends are so peaceful, aren’t they?”

“Oh, of course,” Will replies with a smirk. “So sweet and quiet.”

“Tender and mild,” Mike remarks as Silent Night plays over the speakers. They look at each other once more before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh! Here.” Will pulls out a metal tin while Mike wipes tears from his eyes. “We haven’t used these since we were about six-years-old.”

“I remember that,” Mike says fondly. “We totally almost burnt down the kitchen.”

Will opens the tin and pulls out a reindeer cutter. “Yeah, we left them in the oven for too long and you cried like a baby.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Okay, did you miss the part where we were six-years-old?”

Will grins at him. “But you were so sweet though. You forced yourself to eat a whole cookie because you were so worried that I would be upset if you didn’t like them.”

Mike busies himself with unpacking the tin, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Wow, that’s weirdly nice of you, Mike,” Max says jokingly. “Where was that attitude when I came along?”

Mike flushes at her words, not realizing the rest of the room was listening in. It’s not often that he or Will share stories from before the party, when it was just the two of them, but he knows that Dustin and Lucas are always keenly interested. Sure enough, Lucas chimes in,

“Tell us more stories, Will.”

“Yeah, tell us baby Mike stories!” El’s face is bright with intrigue. “I want to hear.”

“Oh, sure,” Mike grumbles. “What, is it Embarrass Mike Day today?”

“Oh, come on,” Will pouts, and for a moment Mike does feel like a child again, as if he’s got six-year-old Will staring back at him. “Just one?”

Mike rolls his eyes and relents with a waved hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He sets about stirring the ingredients together, because someone has to (what even is nutmeg?), while Will starts telling a story. Thankfully, it’s only about the one time that Will accompanied the Wheeler’s on vacation, and nothing too embarrassing.

As he fumbles his way through the recipe, he relaxes a little. He’s missed Will’s storytelling voice - it reminds him of the rare occasions when he would agree to be Dungeon Master. He can tell by the reactions of his friends, that they too are a little entranced. It’s not often that Will lets himself go like this, and really gets into something, but it certainly is a sight to behold. With the gingerbread dough done, Mike leans an elbow on the counter and rests his gaze back on Will. They lock eyes for a moment, and Will gives him a brilliant smile that makes his stomach flip. By the time the story ends, Mike has rolled out the dough and used the cookie cutters to make (slightly messy) reindeers and gingerbread men. 

“So, I guess you’ve always been this stupidly earnest,” says Max. Mike considers the assessment. It’s something that Will has actually said to him before, albeit in a much nicer way. That one of his favorite things about Mike is how he acts with so much sincerity and conviction no matter the situation. 

“Guess so,” he replies, shooting a sideways glance at Will, who is still smiling at him. “Let’s get these in the oven.” He gestures to the tray. “And, let’s not forget to take them out, this time.”

Will laughs and grabs the tray off the bench. “We can’t have you crying again, can we?”

They smile at each other for a second, reminiscing. 

Of course, the moment is ruined when Dustin opens up the tin of cinnamon and tips it onto Will’s head.

“Dustin!” Will splutters, as powder rains down all over his hair and his sweater. “What was that for?”

“Oops,” Dustin says innocently. “Slipped.”

Mike waves his hand in front of his face and coughs slightly as cinnamon powder works its way into his lungs. He shoots a glare at Dustin, taking Will’s arm and walking him to the sink.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he warns. “It’s like, all over your face.”

He wets a paper towel and goes to hand it to Will, but he catches Dustin miming something out of the corner of his eye. A very over the top charade of him pretending to wipe something of El’s face, who is giggling in the corner. Mike rolls his eyes but gets the picture.

“Okay, hold still,” he says to Will, before gently wiping the towel over his eyelids. Feeling a little self-conscious under four sets of eyes he sends them all a glare over his shoulder.

“Would you lot do something useful? Like wipe up the mess? Or put the biscuits in the oven?”

They spring into action with sheepish grins, grabbing more paper towels to wipe cinnamon off the floor and benches, and Lucas shoves the baking tray into the oven.

“Am I good yet?” Will asks him. Mike wipes his face a few more times.

“Think so.” Will’s hazel eyes blink open and he sends Mike a grateful smile, before shaking his hair out like a dog. Mike laughs and grabs him by the arm to steady him when he gets a little dizzy.

Will blows his fringe out of his face and holds his arms out as if presenting himself for inspection. “Better?”

Mike looks at him consideringly. “I think you need a new jumper.”

Will makes a face and goes to pull his ruined jumper off.

“Just chuck it in the laundry,” Mike says. “I’ll grab you a new one.”

He runs up the stairs and into his room, spotting Will’s suitcase on the floor next to the bed. He pauses for a moment, considering, before turning to his own wardrobe and pulling out a forest green sweater that Nancy got him last Christmas, that has on it a little dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. He grins to himself. Perfect.

When he comes back downstairs, Will is apparently in the bathroom. Mike rounds on Dustin immediately. “What was up with that?”

Dustin gives him a knowing look. “It was the perfect plan, that’s what’s up. Close physical contact plus helping someone in a time of need? That’s a recipe for love if I’ve ever heard it.” Then, he points down at the sweater in Mike’s hands. “And that is definitely your jumper, you wore it last Christmas. Sharing clothes is romantic trope number one.”

Mike squints at him. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist. Or like you’ve read too many romance novels.”

Dustin just shrugs benignly and Will re-enters the kitchen, hair dripping.

“Dude, what did you do?” Lucas asks.

Will grimaced. “Stuck my head under the tap. I thought it would be a good way to get rid of the cinnamon.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” says Dustin. 

Will sends him a look. “Sure you are.”

Mike hands him the jumper, and Will doesn’t say anything about the fact that it’s not his. 

“Well.” Dustin claps his hands, looking pleased. “Let’s check on those cookies, shall we?”

Later on, when the party has left and Mike and Will are curled up in bed (yes, Mike didn’t feel the need to remind Will that the sleeping bags were now dry, and no, Will didn’t feel the need to ask), Will brings up the jumper thing. He’s still got it on, as the weather is just cold enough to wear sweaters to bed. 

“So, this isn’t mine,” he says, tweaking the neckline. 

Mike scrambles for an excuse. “Uh, I couldn’t find your suitcase?”

Will looks at him disbelievingly.  

“I mean, I couldn’t find a jumper inside your suitcase?”

Will smiles. “It’s okay, Mike. I like this jumper.”

“Oh. Right.” Mike can’t stop himself from adding: “It looks good on you.”

Will says nothing, just ducks his head a little so it sits below Mike’s face. Mike suspects that he’s hiding a blush, which makes him ridiculously happy. And yep, sure enough, when Will pulls back his cheeks are slightly flushed. 

“Your hair still smells like cinnamon,” Mike whispers.

Will grins and promptly shoves his head under Mike’s nose again. Mike pushes him gently away and sneezes. “God,” he says, eyes watering. “Dustin really did a number on you.”

Will shrugs, running his hand through his hair so it sits back off his forehead. “I like cinnamon.”

“You’re going to make my sheets smell,” Mike complains, although he really doesn’t mind.

“Yeah, and everytime you go to sleep, you’ll have good memories. That’s how olfaction works, right? You’ll smell a good smell and have nice dreams.”

Mike laughs. “Okay, nerd. When did you swallow a biology textbook? I’ll be sure to sniff my pillows real hard after you’re gone so I dream of you.”

Will smiles back, and Mike’s only half-joking, because the scent lingers in his nose and he’s sure that from now on cinnamon is only ever going to remind him of Will. 

They settle down into the bed, and even after just two nights, Mike doesn’t hesitate to draw Will closer when he curls his body around Mike’s. 

“Christmas Eve tomorrow,” he whispers. “You excited?"

He feels Will nod against his chest. “Yeah. I kind of like Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. Just the anticipation of it all.” His words are blurry with sleep, so Mike just hums in response. 

Will whispers a goodnight, and Mike just about whispers one back before he too drifts off, the scent of cinnamon in his nose. And you know what? That night he does have good dreams. 

Phase Four (Suprise Edition): El’s Wisdom Saves The Day

Mike, Will, and El spend Christmas Eve morning babysitting Holly, and really, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more adorable sight than Will teaching his little sister how to draw. They lounge about the living room floor, eating candy canes with the radio on, and Mike spends most of the morning with a dopey smile on his face, which El definitely teased him about, but he’s far too gone on the whole situation to really care. Of course, when she drags him into the kitchen under the pretense of getting snacks, he starts to care a little more.

“What are you doing?” Blunt and straight to the point, as she always is.

“What do you mean?” Mike tries to dodge the question. “We’re babysitting Holly.”

El sends him a pointed look that Mike just knows she’s picked up from Max. “I mean, what are you doing with Will?”

“Oh, that.” Mike struggles for an answer. “I don’t really know.” Truthfully, there have been half a dozen times over the past few days where Mike thought that Will was going to say something to him. He had been hoping that something would be Will confessing his feelings because after all, Will had always been the brave one.

“The plans,” El prompts. “Have they been working?”

Mike fills up a glass with juice for her, and then for himself, just to give his hands something to do. “I think so,” he says slowly. “I mean we keep having all these moments.”

“Moments?”

“Yeah, like, when we were ice skating, or even last night when we watched that movie, he put his head on my shoulder.”

El sips her juice. “You want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think plans are stupid. And we’re not stupid.”

“Well,” Mike says, thinking of the party. “We’re probably a little stupid.”

El giggles. “No, I mean that you don’t need a plan. Will’s my brother, and I know he is brave, but he will never tell you how he feels without you bringing it up first.”

“Well, maybe if I drop enough hints-”

“Hints?” El makes a face of disgust. “No hints. I hate hints. I wish people would just say how they feel, all the time. It would make everything so much easier.”

And Mike has to agree. “So, you think I should just confess? Just say it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay, but what if he doesn’t like me back?” Although a lot of his doubt had been washed away this week, Mike can’t help the little bit that remains.

El’s tone is gentle when she speaks. “Mike, none of that matters. Will loves you and he is always going to be your best friend. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, he won’t be angry. He would never be angry with you. You should just tell him.”

And that’s probably the most reassuring thing Mike has ever heard in his life.

“God, when did you get so wise?” He nudges El with his elbow.

El grins. “I’ve always been wise.” And for a moment, she seems so different to that little girl Mike had once hid in his basement.

“California’s been really good for you, huh?”

El nods. “Yes, it really has.” Then she pauses. “But I would still come back to Hawkins, if I could.”

“Really? Even after everything bad that’s happened here?”

“Hawkins is my home,” she says simply. “The first place I ever had a family. You, Max, Lucas, Dustin.” She floats her juice out of her glass and sends the bubble of liquid floating up towards the ceiling. “And now Will is my family, too. And I had brothers and sisters before, but they weren’t the same. Will and Jonathan and Joyce. They’re my family.” The juice falls back into the glass with a splash. “Me and Will have talked a lot. Helped each other. We understand each other. And I think we could do it - move back here.”

“Yeah?” Mike feels a little emotional. Not just about El and how free she’s become, but about the possibility that the Byers could once again call Hawkins their home.

“Yes. We’ve come a long way, Mike.”

He nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

They share a smile, and despite all their teasing and their hijinks, Mike feels truly grateful to have such great friends.

Then the doorbell rings and he hears Max shout, “Wheeler, open up. We’re freezing out here,” and the moment is effectively ruined. 

He sends an exasperated glance at El. “Can’t get one moment of peace around here.” 

The doorbell rings again, and El grins and runs into the hallway. “Who needs peace when you have friends?” she calls over her shoulder.

Mike supposes that’s true. The parents arrive back home a few minutes after the party, so he’s able to give Holly back to them, and join the others in the basement. Mrs Byers pokes her head in after a few moments and pulls El and Will away for ‘family stuff’, whatever that means. And with Will gone, so is Mike’s safety shield and the interrogation starts immediately.

“So, what’s been happening-”

“The ice skating was totally romantic. You guys looked like you were on an actual date-”

“I know that the sleeping bags are still in the laundry, Wheeler, so don’t even deny that my plan worked-”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” he says loudly. He tries to summarize. “Nothing has happened, ice skating was fun, don’t even talk to me about sleeping bags, and no, Dustin, cinnamon in the face is absolutely not romantic.”

“Hey, let’s not forget that there wouldn’t even be a plan, if not for me. Cinnamon or no cinnamon, I deserve credit.”

Mike makes a face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s even happened yet.”

“But you’ve shared a bed, right?” Max asks, leaning forward. “And Will is definitely not wearing his own jumper.”

“You held hands, basically all day at the ice skating rink. That has to mean something-”

“Okay, okay,” Mike holds his hands up, somewhat regretting even getting himself into this situation. “If something does happen - and that’s an if, I’ll let you know. Now, can we lay off the questioning? I feel like I’m in one of my mom’s rom-coms.”

“The fact that you even know what a rom-com is tells me everything I need to know,” says Max.

Mike flips her off.

“Mike!” Will’s voice travels down to the basement. “Come up here for a second?”

Lucas grins. “Better go see what he wants, huh?”

“Yeah, have fun up there, loverboy-”

“No, Dustin, absolutely not.”

Mike scurries up the stairs, feeling a little relieved to escape the questioning (and Dustin’s horrifying nicknames). He passes El on the way up. “Any idea what’s up?”

Her eyes gleam. “Good news, I think.”

That bodes surprisingly well, so Mike runs up the rest of the stairs, taking them too at a time. In the front hallway, Will is waiting for him.

“What’s up?”

Will doesn’t say anything, just grabs Mike’s arm and pulls him outside onto the back porch. 

“Okay,” Mike laughs, as he follows. “What’s going on?”

Will pulls the back door shut, and turns to Mike. He’s beaming, eyes alight, and Mike suddenly thinks that this is it. His efforts over the past few days haven’t gone unnoticed. And Will’s about to tell him that he feels the same. That he likes him. Will opens his mouth to speak, and Mike’s heart just about jumps out of his chest.

“We’re moving back to Hawkins!” Will bursts out, looking giddy with happiness.

And…that’s not what Mike expected. His heart dampens a bit in disappointment, before he actually processes the words that Will said, and it speeds right back up again. “What?”

“Yeah! We decided just then. Well, officially decided - we’ve been talking about it for months and I wanted to tell you so bad, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case - but we’re doing it. We’re moving back.” 

The excitement in Will’s voice is palpable and Mike can’t help the reflexive smile that slides onto his face.

“This holiday, it was sort of like a trial run,” Will continues, a little less breathless than before. “To see if we could do it - you know, to see if me and El were okay. Make sure we don't feel anything, anymore.”

Mike nodded slowly, still feeling a little speechless.

“And we didn’t. So, we’re doing it. Just in time for senior year, too.”

And suddenly, Mike feels as if all his worries have evaporated. It was a quiet whisper of fear that he hadn’t expressed to any of his friends, when they first came up with the plan. That maybe, just maybe, if all of this worked, and Will did love him back, he would only end up going back to California and they wouldn’t even get to be together. Not properly. But now? The very thing he had wished for, ever since the Byers’ first moved away, was coming true. 

Will’s still looking at him, eyes bright and hopeful, face plastered with a smile that makes Mike’s heart jolt. Distantly, he hears his friends' voices in his head. Dustin’s bold, ‘what’s the worst that could possibly happen?’ Lucas’ dry, ‘assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you.’ Max’s - well, Max’s voice is less of a voice and more of a very pointed look. And lastly, El’s gentle and understanding, ‘you should just tell him.’

“Mike.” Will’s voice is a little hesitant. “Everything okay?”

And Mike means to say something reassuring and celebratory, he really does. He means to tell Will how excited he is that he’ll finally be coming home. Instead, his mouth moves without any input from his brain.

“I love you,” he blurts. No bells and whistles, no ribbons or wrapping. Just that, plain and simple. I love you. 

He looks up at Will, trying to gauge his reaction. Good or bad, he just needs to know what he thinks. Will’s face however, is schooled into a polite sort of confusion.

“Uh, I love you, too?” 

And it hits Mike, that Will, in all his unwillingness to make any assumptions, doesn’t quite grasp his meaning.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Mike manages, heart pounding. “I mean - of course, I love you, but I really mean that I love love you. Like I’m in love with you.”

And now Will’s face shows his feelings, eyebrows raised slightly in shock, mouth parted, eyes wide in a mix of confusion that moves to understanding that moves to something akin to affection.

“Romantically.” Mike feels the need to clarify. “I mean in a romantic sense.”

“Oh,” Will says softly. And then they both just stare at each other for a moment, and Mike feels like if Will doesn’t say something right now then he will actually explode.

Will takes a little step closer, and Mike hones in on his mouth, telling himself it’s only because if Will speaks, his non-existent powers of lipreading will allow him to understand quicker, just what he is saying. But Will’s mouth doesn’t start forming a sentence. Instead, it just moves closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s hovering just an inch away from Mike’s lips. Suddenly, Mike tears his eyes away from Will’s mouth (which looks soft and pink and oh, so kissable) and up to meet his gaze. 

“Hi,” he whispers, and Will’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Hey.” Will shifts closer still, bracketing Mike against the porch railing with his arms.

“This is…cozy.” Mike mentally slaps himself for the awkwardness of that comment, but Will is huffing out a laugh that he can feel brush against his lips, and all rational thoughts disappear from his brain.

“Mike?” Will breathes, voice barely more than a whisper. Mike doesn’t think he’s managed a reply, but Will continues on anyway. “I love you, too.”

Then Will tilts his head forward, just a little bit more, and kisses him. And any semblance of sanity that Mike has left in his brain immediately melts into a puddle and seeps out of his body and between the porch floorboards. Will’s kiss is somehow exactly what Mike expected. It’s just Will. Soft and sweet, but also sure of itself, with a hand reaching up to gently hold Mike’s jaw. He tastes of peppermint, like the candy canes they were just eating, and his lips are warm. He eases Mike back against the railing, and Mike lets him, sure that if Will’s other hand wasn’t holding his waist, he would currently be collapsed on the floor. 

When Will pulls back, Mike feels in a daze. He vaguely registers that Will is saying something to him, and pulls enough power back into his brain to ask: “What? Sorry, what did you say?”

Will gives him a knowing little grin, like he is well-aware of the effect he is having. “I asked if this is why you’ve been acting so weird? Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh,” Mike says, cheeks flushing. “Maybe a little bit. We were kind of trying to make you fall in love with me - we had a whole plan and everything. Three steps.”

“Three whole steps?” Will teases. “Well, too bad the whole thing was unnecessary, because I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Mike pretends that he doesn’t hear the amazed little giggle that exits his own voice box. “Lucas said something like that. That the plan assumed that you weren’t already in love with me.”

“Ah, yeah, he kind of already knew,” Will admits sheepishly.

“What ? He knew?”

“Well, falling in love at eleven-years-old is a big deal! I had to tell someone, and it’s not like I could talk to you, so Lucas seemed like a good option.”

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe he knew this whole time.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a lot of phone calls about it,” Will says. And then Mike pauses, as he realizes something.

“Eleven-years-old? You fell in love with me when you were eleven-years-old?”

Will flushes. “Um, yeah. It’s been a long time, I know, but-”

“I was ten,” Mike cuts him off, and Will blinks up at him. “I was ten when I fell in love with you.”

“Oh,” Will breathes. Then his face breaks out into a grin and he pokes Mike in the ribs. “So, you totally fell first. I am never going to let you live that down.”

And then he darts forward once more to place a quick kiss on Mike’s lips. When he goes to pull back, Mike grabs onto the front of his sweater - no, Mike’s sweater, that Will is still wearing - and holds him in place. He feels Will smile against his lips for a moment, before he obliges and kisses Mike again. 

Mike lets his brain go fuzzy and focuses on the smooth, warm movements of Will’s mouth. He lets himself get swept away on the wave that’s crashing through his body, making his stomach feel pleasantly warm, and his skin tingle. Where Will learnt to kiss like this, Mike has no idea, but he isn’t complaining. When Will pulls back, Mike has to physically stop himself from chasing his lips again, and Will huffs out a little laugh.

He feels as if a million thoughts should be racing through his brain right now - he should be trying to process the wave of happy emotion he is currently feeling, but instead when he opens his mouth, all he manages to say is: “Kiss me again?”

And yep, he supposes that just about sums up the only coherent thing in his head right now. Luckily, Will obliges, and tilts his chin up to capture Mike’s lips in another kiss. And wow, it’s just as head-swimmingly good as the last two, and Mike knows he is never going to get sick of this feeling. Will retreats though, after only a brief moment and bumps his forehead gently against Mike’s.

“We should probably head back inside. The others will be wondering where we are.”

Mike’s about to protest, but then he thinks about everyone coming looking and finding them kissing on the porch, and makes a face. He doesn’t think he could stand the smug looks.

“Yeah,” he agrees, tangling Will’s hand in his own. “Let’s head back inside.”

He lets Will pull him towards the basement, and they pause on the stairs. Will holds up their joined hands. “Should we just tell them now? Get it over with?”

Mike’s about to agree, when another thought occurs to him. He looks at Will with a conspiring grin. “Or, we could make our own plan.”

Understanding blooms on Will’s face and he grins wickedly (and damn, if mischievous is not a good look on him). After a few minutes of planning, they push open the basement door, hands still joined. The chattering of their friends grinds to a halt, and Mike can see four sets of eyes look at his and Will’s hands, and then look frantically at each other.

“We have news,” Will says brightly, pulling Mike down onto the couch, so close he’s almost sitting in his lap. The others glance at each other once more, before jumping into a flurry of motion. Dustin drops the VHS tapes he was holding, Lucas and Max hurry over from where they were chatting by the window, and El releases her hold on the Millenium Falcon toy she was hovering, letting it drop to the ground with a crash. All four scramble over furniture items to come sit, stand, and kneel in front of the couch, and Mike feels vaguely like he’s a kindergarten teacher about to read a storybook. He nudges Will’s arm and asks: “Ready?”

Will nods and looks across at them all, pausing for a long moment to let the tension build. “Okay. Our news is…”

He stalls for an unbearably long time, so Mike pinches his side, wanting him to just spit it out so they can get their friends' reactions.

“Okay, okay. We’re moving back to Hawkins!”

“What?”

“That’s your news?”

“But what about-” El catches on quickly, and shuts Dustin up with an elbow to the side.

“Yes! That’s the big news,” she says, standing up and shoving herself onto the armrest of the couch next to Will. She slings her arm around his shoulder. “We’re moving back! For senior year.” She glances down at everyone’s shocked faces. “Well, aren’t you all pleased?”

Immediately, the rest of the party scramble out their happy responses. Max jumps up and squeals, wrapping El into a hug as Lucas and Dustin do the same to Will. Due to their proximity, Mike gets an elbow or two in the ribs and he shoves both of them off. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. He slides his hand onto Will’s leg and grins internally at the way Dustin’s eyes boggle. “Glad you’re all so pleased.”

Will leans forward and rests his chin on a hand, face breaking into a cheeky smile. “You all seemed so shocked. I mean, what other news were you possibly expecting?” Then he slides his hand into Mike’s where it’s resting in his lap, with a big exaggerated movement that draws everyone’s attention.

Lucas stares at Will, as if attempting to telepathically communicate. Will just stares at Mike who, in turn, stares at Dustin, who stares at El, who stares (and probably succeeds in telepathically communicating) at Max, who stares back at Lucas. 

Max is the first one to break the silence. “You’re fucking with us, aren’t you?”

And that’s enough to send Mike into a fit of laughter.

At once, four voices break into excited chatter. 

“I told you, Mike. Didn’t I say that this was a good idea-” 

“I know that my plan worked best. Ice skating is the perfect date-”

“Oh, come on, Lucas, you seriously think yours was the best? The sleeping bags are literally still in the laundry-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Will laughs. “Everyone calm down.”

“So,” says El. “Are you dating now?”

Mike glances sideways at Will, feeling a little embarrassed by all the attention. And by the fact that they hadn’t actually taken the time to decide on that answer. But Will smoothes away his worries with a quick nod of his head.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

“Are you kidding? This is a huge deal-”

“You so owe us, Mike. This whole plan was a huge success-”

Mike sees Will’s confusion and leans over to give him a brief overview of the whole plan thing. “It’s kind of embarrassing, really,” he mutters at the end.

Will sends him a bright smile. “Nah. It’s kind of sweet.”

Max mimes vomiting at them, so Mike throws a pillow at her.

“So, Will, enlighten us. Did our plans work?”

Will contemplates. “Well, Lucas’ definitely. Max’s was a nice addition. Dustin - your plan was just chaos and I’m still finding cinnamon in my hair.”

“Hey-” Dustin tries to object, but Mike cuts him off.

“El’s plan worked the best.”

The others look around at each other in disbelief. “What? El didn’t even have a plan, she helped with mine,” says Max.

El smiles from her perch next to Will. “My plan was the best plan, because it wasn’t a plan.”

“She basically told me just suck it up and get it over with,” Mike explains. “Really, someone should have said something sooner.”

“We tried-”

“You wouldn’t hear a word of it-”

“Oh, so now you’re capable of talking to Will like a normal person-”

Will ducks his head down to stage-whisper in Mike’s ear. “They’re just so supportive, aren’t they?”

“Truly, we have incredible friends.”

Will laughs and wraps an arm around El. “Well, I definitely have an incredible sister.”

And honestly, the whole moment is so incredibly saccharine that if Mike was surrounded by any other group of people, he would have found the entire thing obnoxious. But he supposes that they are a bunch of sixteen-year-olds at the end of the day, and this has been a long time coming, so he sits back and lets the conversation wash over him.

After the chaos dies down a bit, Dustin brings back their attention to what is really, the most important question.

“Wait, so, you weren’t joking before right? With the whole distraction bit? You really are moving back to Hawkins?”

Will and El exchange glances. “Yeah, we are,” Will says. “The lab and the Upside Down - it’s all gone now. And it’s been long enough that El won’t be in danger, and long enough that living here doesn’t feel like a nightmare, anymore. So, yeah. We’re moving back.”

Will’s words bring the tone down just a notch, and Mike finds himself feeling silently grateful as the high-strung energy seeps out of the room. 

Max gives a firm nod and turns to El. “It’s going to be okay. In fact, it’s going to be great. And nothing’s happened for almost two years. You’ll be safe.”

“I know we will,” El says. “I’m sure of it.”

They all settle a little as the news sinks in. Lucas pulls El into a celebratory hug, and Dustin beams around at them all. 

“The party,” he proclaims with grandeur. “We were once apart, but now: together once more.”

Everyone collectively rolls their eyes (“Dustin, stop being pretentious-” “You seriously have got to start talking normally-” “You’re so overdramatic-”).

But the message sinks in nonetheless. The party is back, and they’re back for good. Mike grins to himself and nudges Will in the side. 

“Worthwhile trip, right?” he whispers. “And it’s not even Christmas Day yet.”

“Like I said,” Will whispers back. “Christmas Eve is always so much better.”

And he’s right. Between the overlapping chatter of his friends, the faint sound of Christmas music and wine glasses clinking from upstairs, the way Will is sitting next to him, their ankles tangled together, Hawkins has never felt more like home. 

[black-dragon1998]

Lone wolf Chapter 12

Summary: Clarke and Y/N resove their fight.

Notes: Trying to get back into writing for this story.

previous chapters: part 1- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8 - part 9- part 10-part11

Clarke quickly approached your joined tent, hoping you were there. When she only saw Lexa and Madi, her heart sank. Lexa could see the distress on Clarke's face as she neared the tent. What had happened, and where were you?

"Clarke, hodness. What happened?" It was hard for Lexa not to run to her distressed wife, but Lexa had an image to uphold in unfriendly territory. When Clarke was inside the safety of their tent, she couldn't hold back any longer, so she pulled Clarke close to her with the arm that wasn't holding Madi. Clarke couldn't stop her tears when she felt Lexa pull her closer, missing you.

"Lexa, I did something stupid." Clarke sobbed into Lexa's shoulder.

"It's okay, Clarke, I have you. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can talk about it." Lexa tried to reassure her wife. The three of you had had your arguments before, and they were usually resolved quickly.

"no, Lexa! You don't understand. I have never seen (Y/N) look at me like that."

"Clarke, sweetheart. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Cause you aren't making any sense." Lexa said while leading Clarke toward a chair so she could sit. Madi immediately hugged Clarke the moment she sat down.

"hugs, mommy. Mama says hugs make everything better." Madi looked up at Clarke with a toothy smile. Clarke managed to give a tear-filled smile back. You had been right. Had anyone else caused this commotion, Clarke wouldn't have thought twice about your reaction.

After a couple of deep breaths, Clarke got her breathing under control. She hugged Madi tightly. Lexa, who had watched Clarke run through all the emotions, sat beside her wife as Clarke told her story through hiccups and tears. Lexa listened. It wasn't Lexa's place to choose a side. She just wanted everybody to be safe at home again.

Lexa suggested giving you some time. That way, both you and Clarke could calm down. So when you return, both of you can have a calm conversation. If there was one thing Lexa knew for certain, you loved her and Clarke.

Madi, who hadn't understood the conversation her mothers had been having, just sat there. The thing Madi did understand was that her mommy was sad and that her mama was gone. Seeing her mommy so sad made Madi want to do something about it. Maybe if she found you, you could come and give Mommy your hugs. They always made her feel better.

Sneaking outside, Madi immediately went to the three who would help her. Winter, Rain and Wood were close to the tent and got up when they noticed Madi approaching them. For them, Madi was the pack's pup and needed protection.

"We have to find mama. Mommy sad." Madi walked into the woods, surrounded by the three dire wolves. The wolves immediately tried to locate the scent of their master and started to lead Madi in that direction.

You had cooled off a little after your argument with your wife. You weren't able to go back to the tent just yet. So, you sat on a log and reviewed your emotions and thoughts. You Weren't mad at Clarke. Your feelings got the best of you after a hard couple of days. You also knew Clarke was under much stress, and your clashes with Bellamy weren't helping.

Sitting there for a few minutes, you notice someone approaching you. You ready yourself for whatever it is that comes through the clearing.

"Madi?" Hearing your voice, Madi ran toward you and flung herself at you.

"mama! Found you." You looked her over for any injury she could have gotten while walking through the woods. When you didn't see anything, you looked her in the eyes.

"what are you doing here? Do Mommy or nomon know you are here?" you knew the answer already. No way would your wives let Madi walk through the woods alone. Madi, however, seemed to be concerned about other things.

"mama! Mommy, sad. Sorry. Needs you." Madi wiggled herself out of your hold and pulled you toward the camp. When you didn't follow, Madi looked up at you with a pretty impressive glare. Clarke would be so proud.

"mama! Mommy cried." That did break your heart. Lexa nor Clarke cried easily. Meaning she must be feeling pretty big emotions. Sucking up your feelings, you pick Madi up and start walking toward the rest of your family.

When Clarke spotted you walking toward her, she flings herself at you. She was starting to apologize profusely. You let her ramble for a moment while holding her close.

"It's okay, Clarke. We were both at fault. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me and should also have considered your feelings. I get more territorial around certain Skaikru." You kissed Clarke on the forehead before kissing her on the lips. You feel her sag against you and hold her closer. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Lexa smiling. Reaching out for her, Lexa picks up Madi and joins the embrace.

"I love the three of you so much." You confess. Having this rare moment of vulnerability reserved for your family.

You and Clarke eat dinner before taking a quick bath and turning in for the night. Agreeing that you would be taking a more back-seated role in the negotiations, limiting your contact with the Skaikru. Your best warriors would still shadow Lexa and Clarke. That was the only condition you had.

part 13

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