#he’s getting the boy and the boy is mike

[blackashbluephoenix]

We need a Marvey smut renessanice.

[saveyourblood]

Roll the Dice (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.” You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” “Give someone a lap dance.” The one where you're best friends with Buck and Eddie, the three of you are drunk, and the topic of lap dances comes up.

Word Count: 2.4k Prompt (from @happyhauntt): buddie and reader are hanging out and drinking maybe and maybe they're watching magic mike as a joke or they had a call to a strip club earlier that day and buck asks reader who they think would give a better lapdance, buck or eddie, reader bluescreens and they both give a demonstration. A/N: This was such a fun write! Thanks for letting me steal your idea, Ollie! You can find their work on AO3 too. :^) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone! Warnings: Spice (not smut), drinking, mentions of vomiting

It started with beer. 

Well, it started with the boys drinking beer. 

You’ve never been a big fan of beer. You’ll occasionally indulge in something on tap at a fancy bar, but other than that, it isn’t your drink. And that cheap shit that Buck buys at the corner store? Absolutely not. 

So, it started with the boys drinking beer and you drinking a canned cocktail. 

See, Buck may have bad taste, but he has a good heart. He always has a 6-pack of cheap beer in his fridge, but since you started coming over, you notice he always has a 12-pack of ready-to-drink canned cocktails. You know he doesn’t drink them; he buys them for you. 

You really don’t drink that much, in terms of both frequency and amount. It takes a singular drink for you to feel a nice buzz, and really, that’s all you need. You’ve never had the desire to get blackout drunk, and more than three drinks gives you a raging headache in the morning. 

You were only going to have one, maybe two drinks, just like you usually do. 

But then Eddie found the fucking tequila. 

“Where’d you even get that?” you giggle. You'd be embarrassed by the sound if you were even a little bit sober. Thankfully, you’re halfway through your second can, and any sense of embarrassment is filled by the warm pool of alcohol in your stomach. 

“Maddie made margaritas the night I moved in,” Buck says, raising his beer bottle to his lips. 

The boys are both on their third beers, but between the lower alcohol content and their stronger tolerances, they aren’t as drunk as you are. Hopefully, the tequila will even the score. 

“Where did she buy it?” Eddie laughs as he inspects the bottle. 

It’s cheap: you can tell that much by looking at it. It’s a 1.75 liter plastic bottle — not exactly top shelf. You expected nothing less from Maddie, since she doesn’t strike you as a girl who sips high-end tequila. No, she’s more like the girl who makes way too strong margaritas and bullies her brother into taking shots in the kitchen. 

Buck shrugs. “Grocery store, probably.”

Eddie starts looking through the cabinets. “You got a blender?”

Buck snorts. “I have shot glasses.”

“I’m not doing shots,” you laugh. “Tequila shots and I have… a bad relationship.” 

Eddie gives you a look. “What type of relationship?” 

“Whatever type ends in me throwing up in someone’s sink.”

Buck tips his head back and cackles. “You did that?! You?!”

“I just graduated from the Academy and went out with some classmates to celebrate,” you explain, cheeks flushing as you smile. “It started with bar hopping and ended with tequila shots at someone’s house.”

“Sounds like it actually ended with you throwing up in someone’s sink,” Eddie points out. 

“And you’re trying to make it happen again!” You accuse as Eddie continues scouring the kitchen. “Shame on you, Diaz!”

“Hey, it would be nice to see the most professional member of the 118 get a little crazy,” Buck says. 

You snort again. “I’m the most professional member of the 118?”

“Professional isn’t the right word,” Eddie says, finally finding a cocktail shaker. 

“Formal?” Buck proposes, looking to the other man. 

Eddie hums in consideration as he fills the shaker with ice, leaving the tequila on the island. “Classy?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that’s not it either.”

Eddie sets the shaker, now filled with ice, on the island. He then opens the fridge door and comes back with lime juice. “Proper?”

“Proper,” Buck agrees, leaning his hip on the island. His body is turned towards Eddie, watching him as he pours the ingredients into the shaker. 

“Proper,” you echo, your lips wrapping around the word as you say it. “How exactly am I proper?” 

“I don’t know,” Buck says after taking another sip. “Just… the way you carry yourself, I guess.”

“How specific.”

Buck flicks a beer cap, previously sitting on the island, at you. You try to catch it, but it slides off the table before you can catch it. You flip him off. 

“Not so proper anymore,” Eddie remarks. 

The tequila takes you by the hand and leads the three of you into Buck’s living room. You’re on your second margarita on the rocks, courtesy of Edmundo Diaz. The boys decide to take two shots each, back to back, and simply watching them kind of made you sick. 

“You are so full of shit!” you yell. 

You don’t know much at this moment, other than the fact that you’re completely and entirely drunk. Not wasted, not blackout. You’re in that sweet spot where you’re sober enough to know that you’re being obnoxious but too intoxicated to care. As someone who normally presents as ‘proper’ (apparently),  it’s a combination akin to fire and kerosene — absolutely ruthless. 

“I am not!” Buck laughs.

Buck claims he’s never had a lap dance, and you don’t believe him for a second. 

You’re not entirely sure how you got on this topic. It definitely didn’t start like this, that you’re almost entirely most likely probably sure of. It had something to do with the ‘old partners’ discussion. Or maybe the ‘craziest night out’ swapping of stories. It’s hard to tell — you’ve cycled through several topics tonight, and you’ll be lucky to remember half of them. 

“Eddie, do you believe him?”

Eddie chuckles as he raises his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Like you or Buck would let that happen.

“What about you, hotshot?” Buck asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You ever had a lap dance?” 

Eddie’s eyes narrow slightly, almost like he’s sizing up Buck. It makes the alcohol in your belly burn a little warmer. 

“Once,” Eddie eventually answers. 

You turn your head to the side like a curious dog. “Oh?”

“Do tell,” Buck says, leaning forward. 

“It was at my shitty excuse of a bachelor party,” Eddie explains, taking a sip of his fourth beer. “One of my friends in Texas insisted. We went out to a strip club, he paid for it, and… that’s it.” 

“He paid for it,” you echo. “What a gentleman.” 

Sitting in the armchair, Eddie gently kicks your leg on the coffee table. You giggle, pulling both your legs back onto the couch. Buck, at the other end of the couch, puts his feet in your lap. 

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he observes. “Have you?”

You snort. “Have I ever had a lap dance?”

“Or given one.”

You press into the nailbed on one of Buck’s toes using your thumb. He yelps and pulls his legs back. 

“Half an hour ago, you were calling me ‘proper.’ Now, you’re asking if I’ve given someone a lap dance,” you recall. You turn to Eddie. “Can you believe him?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says as he shakes his head. “...Have you, though?”

Buck cackles as you kick Eddie’s leg. 

“I’ve never given anyone a lap dance,” you answer loudly. “I almost got one, though.” 

Both the boys raise their eyebrows.

“Do you remember that call we went on a few months back? To a male strip club?”

“Yeahhh,” Buck says. At some point, he replaced his beer bottle with the tequila bottle, which he’s now cradling like a baby. “What was that place called? Thirsty?”

“Just Thirst, I think,” Eddie remarks. “The one where a dancer rolled his ankle, right?”

You nod. “One of his buddies offered me a dance for being such a great first responder.”

Buck smiles and takes a swig of the tequila, wincing as it goes down. You nudge his knee, then pull your fingers towards yourself, gesturing for the bottle. Buck’s smile looks a little more cocky, but he hands the bottle over anyways. 

“You didn’t accept, huh?”

You sip a  little more of the tequila than you should. You can’t help it — it goes down so easily, leaving nothing but fuzzy warmth in its wake. You’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now, you’re basking in it. “Not really my thing.”

“Not even for the story?” Eddie asks. 

“You don’t get to be the ‘proper’ one by doing something ‘for the story,’” you counter. 

Eddie makes a face of contemplation as he reaches for the bottle. “Fair.” 

“You are really hung up on that word,” Buck notes. 

“It was… surprising, that’s all,” you chuckle. 

Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.”

You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” 

“Give someone a lap dance.” 

You can feel your face get hot. You swallow the lump that suddenly took residence in your throat. 

Meanwhile, Eddie laughs. “You’ve never gotten a lap dance, but you think you can give one?” 

Buck shrugs, leaning one elbow on his knee. “Why not? I’ve seen Magic Mike.” 

“You’ve seen Magic Mike but never gotten a lap dance,” Eddie continues after taking a swig of liquor. “That makes sense.” 

You reach for the bottle, which Eddie grants you. You take a long drink, gulping a few times. Pulling the bottle back, you use your thumb to wipe your bottom lip. “Do your worst, Buckley.”

He turns his head to stare at you. He huffs out a laugh, looking at you the whole time. “What?” 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you continue, leaning back in the couch. You prop one arm on the back and the other on the armrest, the tequila bottle hitting the end table in the process. “You’ve never given a lap dance, I’ve never gotten one. We’ll pop each other’s cherries.” 

You’d never say any of this sober. Shit, you’d never say any of this two drinks in. You’re in so much deeper than that now; between the margs and the sips, you’ve had at least 6 shots. You can practically feel the alcohol in your blood. It’s hot, thick, and wanting. 

You're 100% throwing up in Buck's sink tomorrow.

You blink, and Buck is on top of you. His hands press into the back of the couch, holding his weight so he can be face-to-face with you. If the booze in your veins is hot, then his breath on your lips is fucking scalding. 

He lifts his hips and brings them back down in a rippling motion: he’s grinding on you. You giggle, high-pitched and shameless. You move your hands to cover your mouth. You can’t wrap your head around the idea that this is actually happening. 

Buck sits up straighter in your lap. He’s careful to keep his weight on his knees, which are on either side of your legs. He puffs his chest before rolling his shoulders forward and his ass backwards on your thighs in a fluid motion. You can feel the friction of his pants on your bare legs. You thank your past self for choosing to wear shorts. 

He gently takes your wrists, moving your hands from your mouth to his chest. He’s fully clothed, so you’re dragging your hands down his sweater. Still, you can feel the rippling of his muscles under his shirt. You throw your head back in laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, but you know the burning in your stomach is no longer entirely thanks to the liquor. 

“Not bad,” Eddie critiques from his seat. 

You laugh harder. 

“What, you can do better?” Buck challenges. 

Eddie narrows his eyes again before smirking. He pushes himself out of the chair, shooing Buck away with his hand. 

Buck raises his hands in surrender, turning on one knee before flopping on the couch beside you. 

“This isn’t happening,” you laugh, shaking your head like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream. 

You’ve had a crush on both of them since the first time you saw them. How could you not? They are completely and utterly gorgeous men. When you realized how funny and caring they both are, it just sealed the deal. You never, in your wildest imagination, pictured yourself in a situation like this with either of them, let alone both of them. 

Not that you’re complaining, of course.

Eddie takes Buck’s place, only he’s towering over you since he’s standing instead of sitting. He puts his hands on your sides, trailing down to your thighs. You shudder under his touch, hoping it isn’t noticeable. The way the corner of his mouth turns up tells you that it’s definitely noticeable. 

Eddie’s hands reach your knees, which he loops his fingers under. In a swift motion, he pulls your legs up and presses his body against yours. You yelp in surprise and wrap your legs around his back, somehow pulling him closer. 

His hands move to your back, and he picks you up. You yelp again, astonished by the ease he can lift you. You shouldn’t be so shocked, considering his career. When his grasp moves from your back to your ass, though, he’s no longer Firefighter Diaz; he’s Eddie, the man you have a crush on. And the man who’s currently holding your ass. 

Eddie turns on his heel and carefully lays you on Buck’s coffee table, which makes you cackle again. Your laughter dies in your throat when Eddie places himself over you again. Your chests are touching, as are your noses. 

You look into Eddie’s eyes, and it’s as if you can suddenly read his mind. “Dancers aren’t supposed to kiss the clientele.”

Eddie smiles again. It’s the kind where only one corner of his mouth curls up, and his lips shift to the side. “Good thing I’m not a dancer.”

His lips meet yours, and it’s nothing but heat. He tastes like a mix of cheap beer and tequila, and if you weren’t already, you could get drunk off of it. Your tongues meet and separate like lovers on a dance floor. When you’re out of breath, you wonder if you could suck the air out of his lungs, just to keep you connected to him for a little longer. 

Eddie pulls away first, his chest heaving desperately for air. 

“You lose,” Buck remarks. 

“How did I lose?”

“It was a competition?” you interject. 

“It’s called a lap dance,” Buck points out. “That wasn’t in her lap.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. They eventually settle on your mouth. “Eh, I think I won.” 

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 10

Just a reminder no posting next week, as I have to recover from the holidays and all the fics I wrote.

Eddie throws a homecoming party and friends get hella pushy, so both Steve and Eddie push back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Pt 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

The next night Eddie threw a coming home party and invited all the people Steve had hired, the D&D boys (Mike and Dustin), and even let Steve bring Robin as his plus one.

As Steve walked in with Robin, he instantly spotted three men he didn’t know. The broad-chested black man was talking to Charles in one corner of the room, while the other two, a heavy set man and a short, curly haired man was talking to Dustin. And judging from how animated they were getting, Steve was gonna bet they were talking about D&D.

He had even had a chance to look for their host, when Eddie came bounding up to them with a big grin on his face.

“Stevie!” he greeted warmly. “You made it! Everyone else is here at the ball, Cinderella. Come, come meet my friends.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him over to the two talking with Dustin first. “This is Bri-guy and Gare-bear!”

Steve laughed and shook their hands. “I’m the nanny.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “He’s much more than that, he’s an amazing cook and the girls love him.”

“I’m Brian and this Gareth,” Brian said shaking his head. “And we know all about you. This idiot wouldn’t stop talking about the an–”

Eddie slapped his hand over Brian’s mouth and grinned brightly at Steve. “I think that’s about enough of these two, don’cha think?”

Robin got a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Not at all. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Robin, the best friend and platonic soulmate of Steve. We’ve been friends for ages. How long have you known Eddie?”

Gareth grinned at her, sensing a partner in crime. “Oh ages. We all went to high school together. I’m not the original drummer and Bri isn’t the original bassist, but we’re the lightning in the bottle that made Corroded Coffin what it is today.”

Eddie dropped his hand from Brian’s mouth to put his hands on his hips. “How dare!”

Brian and Gareth cackled. And suddenly they were joined but whom Steve assumed was the final member of Corroded Coffin, Jeff Lawrence.

“Are we all picking on Eddie?” he asked gleefully.

“No!” Eddie and Steve cried at the same time the other three cried, “Yes!”

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Ooh! I like her! Jeff, the better guitarist of Corroded Coffin and its lead singer.”

Eddie pushed Jeff. “Oh get out. Only for the last album when we were trying something different. It was not something the fans liked. Asshole.”

“I’ve got to tease you, man,” Jeff huffed with a grin. “It’s so easy!”

“This is Jeffy,” Eddie groused, folding his arms like a scolded toddler. “Meet Steve and Robin.”

“Nice to put a name to the faces,” Jeff said with a charming grin. “Eddie talked all about Steve so Robin’s name came up a lot.”

Steve blushed, but Robin grinned.

“Glad to hear I made it to the dispatch notes,” she said, then turned to Eddie. “I’ve got to say, I really love this house. It looks like it stepped out of pages of a gothic horror film. It’s awesome!”

Eddie took a bow. “Why thank you, my lady!” He looked around his house proudly. “That was the look I was going for. I can’t stand all this sterile white, grey, and beige bullshit that is in vogue right now. Give me color and character!”

“Have you seen what Steve’s done to his room yet?” Robin asked cheerfully, knowing full well what she was insinuating.

Eddie flushed a bright pink, shoving his hair in face to hide the blush and Steve stared at her in wide-eye, slack-jawed shock.

“Robin!” he hissed, flapping his hands at her in embarrassment and dismay.

She grinned at him unrepentantly, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back to see what Eddie would say.

“I–I um...” he coughed. “I haven’t had the opportunity to see how Steve spruced up the place, no.”

“Robin,” Steve said low and deep in warning. “Eddie hasn’t had a reason to see my rooms yet as he’s only been home for thirty-six hours.”

Robin just batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “I would have thought he would have wanted to see what you did to the rooms he’s letting you use in his house.”

The other three members of the band were falling over each other, just cackling over this exchange. Steve was red from the tips of his ears all the way down the dip in his collar. Eddie’s mind tried to follow the thought of how much further the blush went. He didn’t have to think about it long as Steve grabbed Robin and hauled her off elsewhere.

He turned to his friends. “Oh shut it. Assholes.”

“Dude,” Jeff said breathlessly clutching his sides, “like that was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever witnessed and that includes the time Gareth tried to hit on the supermodel that last Grammy’s.”

“Hey!” Gareth huffed. “I got a date out of that, I’ll have you know!”

Brian put his arm around Gareth’s shoulder. “After I told her that you weren’t as big an ass as that interaction displayed. She was going to lose your number, man.”

Gareth folded his arms and pouted. “I hate you both.”

“But seriously, Ed,” Jeff said turning his attention back to Eddie who had been trying to slip away from them before they noticed he was gone.

He failed.

“It’s obvious he has the hots for you,” Jeff continued, “so why aren’t you tapping that ass? You wouldn’t shut up about him the whole time we were on tour. It was actually kinda annoying.”

“For real,” Brian agreed. “And please I don’t want to hear how you’re not ready to get out there again after Ethan left, or how you’re paying him to look after you girls because I’ve seen him with them and holy shit they adore him.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “Guys, I haven’t been home for forty-eight hours yet. Can you not try and hook me up with my daughters’ nanny for fuck sake?” He peered around Jeff, making sure Steve was out of earshot. “I don’t really know him yet. Yes, we talked a lot about everything during the tour but I haven’t had to live with him under my roof yet. I could hate the way he takes three showers a day or whatever.”

Jeff and Brian shared an exasperated look as Brian threw his hands in the air. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back on one leg. “That maybe if me and Ethan had lived together before we got married, maybe the marriage wouldn’t have blown up like it did.”

It was a small and simple “Oh,” from Jeff, but it encapsulated all the feelings of the three other members of Corroded Coffin.

“Shit,” Gareth hissed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed but we just wanted you to be happy. And you light up around Steve in a way I haven’t seen you do in years.”

“What would you know?” Eddie spat bitterly. He looked around at all of them. “What would any of you know? You scattered like kids around a broken window the second the band broke up. And where were you when Ethan left? Or when Wayne broke his leg? I appreciated the tour, it really helped me prioritize things. But you don’t get to come into my house and act like you’ve been there the whole fucking time when you haven’t.”

Eddie stormed off, leaving the three of them there with shocked expressions.

“Shit,” Jeff said, hissing out a pained breath. “He’s right. Fuck. He’s right. We should have flown out the second he told us about Ethan. But we kept putting it off until the deal about the tour came around and then suddenly we were interested in his life only when it benefited us.”

Gareth ran his hands down his face and rolled his eyes skyward. “Fuck. What kind of friends have we been? Like we’re all rich enough that hopping on a plane wouldn’t have even dented our fortunes at all. We should have been for the messy divorce and been helping take care of the girls. But what were we even doing that couldn’t have been put on hold?”

“I was the closest,” Jeff huffed. “I was in New York. Hell, I could driven down. But little shit just kept cropping up. Miranda’s health scare. Then she got pregnant and lost the baby. Which were important at the time, but Eddie needed me.”

“I don’t have any excuse,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Because yeah, I was on the otherside of the world, but Eddie would have flown around the world a dozen times for me, but I couldn’t fly half way.”

Brian’s lip quivered. “My mom got cancer around the time, but I don’t think she would have begrudged me flying out to see Eddie. But I didn’t even give it a second thought.”

Jeff looked around the room for Eddie and spotted him standing next to Steve. Robin wandered off, leaving Steve sitting on a table, ankles crossed, swinging them back and forth, drink in hand as he listened to some story Eddie was telling him.

Jeff continued to watch as Eddie must have said something funny, because Steve threw head back and laughed.

“I think I see the silver lining to our neglect, boys,” he murmured, pointing out the tableau before them.

The other two men turned and looked. Steve was nodding vigorously, big smile on his face as he told his own story to Eddie.

“Because if we had been here to help Eddie around the house,” Jeff continued, “then he wouldn’t have gotten so desperate to hire a male nanny. Yeah, we fucked up. We pushed too hard. But damn boys, look at what grew in that barren wasteland, anyway.”

“So it’s settled,” Brian said, “we’re all staying in Indy to help Eddie and Steve get together, right?”

Gareth nodded. “Damn straight we are. Plus those kids Steve found to play D&D, I’d stick around just to see their style.”

“Looks like Operation: Refriend Eddie is a go, boys,” Jeff said excitedly, putting his arms around both of his friends. “And maybe we’ll get a wedding out of this, too.”

~

Steve had given Robin a good talking to. Like maybe don’t proposition his boss on his behalf before the sheets had even had time to warm up, yeah?

It took some proper talking to her to before she relented and apologized. Then stomped off to find some real booze. Steve knew she was going to raid Eddie’s liquor cabinet, but considering most of it was already out, he didn’t figure Eddie would mind too much.

Then a glass of whiskey was being dangled in front of him. He looked up to see Eddie smiling down at him. Steve took the glass with a murmur of thanks.

“Here’s to interfering best friends!” Steve said raising his glass to Eddie’s.

Eddie clinked their glasses together with wary smile. “I just wish they had been around more before they started interfering in my business. They weren’t around to pick up the pieces, so they don’t get to decide when to change puzzles.”

“Here’s to that.” Steve took a drink. “Robin is just trying to make sure I’m happy and she knows how much I love this place.” He shook his head. “I’m content with being the Au Pair Boy. I don’t need anything else.”

“You are much more than that,” Eddie said fiercely. “My girls love you. You’re special, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I promise.” Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I love those little girls too.”

“Don’t look now,” Eddie said with a grin, “but I think our friends are spying on us.”

Steve took a drink of his whiskey and looked up through his eyelashes and sure enough the Corroded Coffin boys and Robin were all looking over at them, trying to look they weren’t.

“Quick, laugh!” Eddie said and Steve burst out laughing genuinely. “Oh, that was perfect. Good job.”

“Learning the art of actually laughing when you’re supposed to be fake laughing,” Steve said warmly, “is a skill taught to the children of socialites like my mother from birth.”

“I wish they gave you a crash course when you become famous,” Eddie said with a weary smile, “because holy shit it’s like being dumped in a shark tank!”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Yeah, they should teach classes and stuff.”

“Annoying best friends aside,” Eddie murmured. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Steve looked up into his eyes and smiled fondly. “I am too.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[dia-depeche]

I desperately need them to release an official Mike Wheeler novel. Like, as much as I love reading fanfics in his POV, I just need something OFFICIAL. Like an official look into Michael Wheelers mind. I need to see how he thinks exactly, how does he few others, the things he thinks about, the things he DOESNT think about. I want to dissect that boys brain. Like, what does he think when he sees will. I don’t need the gist of what he thinks, which is what we can sorta get via the show, I need the EXACT thoughts he thinks.

[bigboysfalldeep]

cycling gear

The early morning sunlight streamed through Mike’s window, casting warm golden hues across his bedroom. He stood in front of the mirror, examining his reflection as he pulled on his new cycling jersey. The tight, silky fabric clung to his athletic frame like a second skin, every line and curve of his body accentuated. He adjusted the fit, smoothing it over his chest and down to his hips, his hands moving with meticulous care.

The jersey was new—carbon black with white stripes accents that streaked along the sides, giving it a sleek, aerodynamic look. Mike had always loved the feel of high-performance cycling gear; it made him feel alive, like he was part of the road itself. Today, however, the familiar sensation was different. There was a warmth in the way the fabric hugged him, a faint tingling that started at his chest and radiated outward. He chalked it up to excitement.

Carlos sat on the edge of Mike’s bed, his own gear already on—deep blue with silver streaks that matched his sharp, focused demeanor. He had been quiet as Mike dressed, his gaze steady and unwavering. Carlos had always been like that: confident, self-assured, with an intensity that drew people in. They’d met a few weeks ago during a long ride through the hills, bonding over their shared love of cycling and the thrill of the open road. Since then, their weekend rides had become a ritual, and they often spent hours pushing each other to their limits.

"You almost ready?" Carlos asked, his voice low and steady. There was something in his tone—something calm yet electric—that made Mike pause.

"Almost," Mike replied, his voice slightly breathless as he zipped up the jersey. The tingling sensation surged, spreading across his chest and down his arms, like an invisible current tracing his veins. His mind went blank as he ran a hand across his chest instinctively, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the taut fabric. The motion sent another rush through him, his fingers trembling slightly as they lingered.

“Mike? You okay?” Carlos’s voice was steady, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—concern, curiosity, or something else entirely.

“Yeah, I- I'm.... fine,” Mike muttered. He ran a hand across his chest, the fabric of the jersey cool beneath his fingertips. But the sensation was electric, sending a shiver down his spine.

Carlos stepped closer, his brow furrowing. “You sure? You look… different today.”

Mike glanced at him, his mouth dry. He tried to speak, but his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His hand drifted over his chest again, almost of its own accord, tracing the contours of his pecs. The tingling was overwhelming now, spreading through his body, clouding his mind.

“Mike,” Carlos said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding. “Doesn’t it feel good? To give in?”

Mike’s head tilted, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. He wanted to respond, to ask what Carlos meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a soft sigh escaped him, and he felt his body relax, leaning slightly into Carlos’s touch.

Carlos’s hand slid down to Mike’s chest, his fingers brushing over the taut fabric of the jersey. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You look sharp in your gear. I couldn’t resist.”

A flicker of confusion passed through Mike’s mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the wave of warmth and pleasure coursing through him. He felt Carlos’s hand move in slow, deliberate circles, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

For weeks, Carlos had been subtly planting the idea in Mike’s mind, steering their conversations, guiding their interactions. It had started with innocent compliments, the casual touch of a hand on a shoulder or back, and the shared thrill of their rides. Slowly, he’d woven a web of trust and subtle suggestion, waiting for the moment when Mike would be ready to let go.

Mike’s breath hitched as Carlos’s hand pressed gently against his chest. “You’ve worked so hard to get here,” Carlos whispered. “To become the best version of yourself. Don’t fight it. Just… feel.”

The words sank into Mike’s mind like stones in a pond, rippling through the fog of his thoughts. His body responded instinctively, leaning further into Carlos, seeking more of that grounding touch. A soft sound—half moan, half sigh—escaped his lips, and he felt a bead of saliva slip past the corner of his mouth.

Carlos chuckled, his tone warm and indulgent. “That’s it. Just let go. Trust me.”

Mike’s hands hung limply at his sides, his body pliant under Carlos’s guidance. He barely registered the world around him, his focus narrowing to the sensations flooding his senses: the tight embrace of his cycling gear, the warmth of Carlos’s hand, and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

“You’re perfect,” Carlos murmured, his hand moving to cup Mike’s jaw, tilting his head up so their eyes met. “Exactly as you should be.”

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Mike’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow and uneven. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, he felt a surge of clarity—a sense of rightness he couldn’t explain.

Mike stood frozen, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath as Carlos’s hands roamed over his body. The firm press of Carlos’s palm on his chest felt impossibly intense, like a flame stoking embers just beneath his skin. Mike’s head tipped back slightly, his lips parted as the sensation deepened, spreading from his chest to his arms, shoulders, and biceps.

Carlos’s touch was deliberate, lingering as his fingers traced the curves of Mike’s muscles through the taut fabric of his cycling gear. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” Carlos murmured, his voice low and velvety. “All those rides, pushing your limits, building this incredible body. And now, here you are. My perfect cyclist.”

Mike’s mind swirled, his thoughts a jumbled mess as the tingling sensation intensified. He barely registered Carlos’s words, but they sank into him nonetheless, feeding the warmth that radiated through his body.

Carlos’s hands slid back to Mike’s shoulders, squeezing them firmly before moving down to his biceps, caressing the tense muscles as if he owned them. “That’s a good boy, Mike,” Carlos whispered, his tone both soothing and commanding. “Let the tingling spread. Let it take over.”

Mike’s breath hitched as Carlos’s hands moved back to his chest, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of his jersey. The tight gear seemed to amplify every touch, every movement, sending waves of heat coursing through him. His body felt both tense and relaxed, caught in a strange limbo between resistance and surrender.

“Feel your gear,” Carlos coaxed, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Feel your body. The way it moves, the way it reacts. You can’t fight it, can you? It feels too good.”

Mike’s knees wobbled slightly, and he let out a soft, involuntary moan. Carlos chuckled, his hands moving lower, grazing Mike’s waist before settling firmly on his hips. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Mike’s ear. “Oh?” Carlos’s voice held a teasing edge. “Someone’s enjoying himself, huh?”

Mike blinked, his eyes heavy-lidded as Carlos stepped back slightly, his gaze dropping to the unmistakable strain in the front of Mike’s tight cycling shorts. The fabric left little to the imagination, and Mike’s arousal was impossible to ignore.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. “Your gear can’t hide your excitement, Mike. Looks like you’re really feeling it now.”

Mike’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and helplessness washing over him. He tried to move, to say something, but his body refused to obey. Carlos reached out, his hand cupping Mike’s face possessively, tilting it upward so their eyes met.

“There’s no need to be shy,” Carlos murmured, his thumb brushing over Mike’s cheek. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be. Exactly who you’re meant to be.”

Mike’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow as Carlos’s words seeped into his mind, soothing and intoxicating. The world around him faded, leaving only the sensation of Carlos’s touch, the warmth of his gaze, and the unrelenting tension in his body.

“Good boy,” Carlos said again, his voice soft but firm. His thumb traced the curve of Mike’s jaw before sliding down to press lightly against his bottom lip. “Just let go. Trust me. Let it all take over.”

Mike’s lips trembled, a small, breathy sound escaping him as he leaned into Carlos’s touch. The tingling warmth inside him swelled, washing away the last traces of resistance. His body felt alive, every nerve humming with sensation as Carlos continued to caress him, guiding him deeper into the moment.

Carlos’s smile widened, his satisfaction evident as he stroked Mike’s cheek, his hand lingering possessively. “That’s it, Mike,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. My perfect boy.”

Carlos’s fingers trailed along Mike’s jawline, tracing the soft curve of his lips with an intimacy that made Mike shudder. His touch was slow, deliberate, lingering just enough to send a fresh wave of tingling heat coursing through Mike’s body. Carlos’s thumb brushed over Mike’s bottom lip, pressing lightly, as if testing his resolve.

“You feel that?” Carlos whispered, his voice low and commanding. “That pull? That need? Be a good boy, Mike. Submit fully. Let it all go.”

Mike’s breath hitched, his lips parting slightly under Carlos’s thumb. He wanted to resist, to pull away, but his body betrayed him, leaning into Carlos’s touch instead. The faint stubble on Mike’s chin scraped lightly against Carlos’s fingertips as they traveled upward, tracing the line of his cheekbone, brushing over his temple with an almost reverent touch.

“Good boy,” Carlos murmured, his dark eyes locked on Mike’s. His tone was soothing yet possessive, drawing Mike deeper into the warm haze clouding his mind.

Mike felt Carlos’s hand drift downward, his palm flat against his chest, pressing firmly over his pounding heart before sliding lower. The tight fabric of Mike’s cycling jersey did little to hide the contours of his body, and Carlos’s hand moved with purpose, tracing the defined lines of his torso, his hips, and the growing tension in his shorts.

Carlos’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as his fingers brushed against the palpable outline of Mike’s cock. “Oh, Mike,” he said softly, almost teasingly. “You’re holding back, aren’t you? Don’t fight it. Let it out—all of it. Give it to me.”

Mike’s knees threatened to buckle as Carlos’s touch became firmer, his hand pressing against the strained fabric. The warmth inside Mike swelled, threatening to consume him entirely. His mind was a blur, unable to form coherent thoughts as Carlos’s words sank deep into his subconscious, coaxing him to surrender.

“Feel it, Mike,” Carlos urged, his hand moving with slow, deliberate pressure. “Feel the tension, the heat. Let it take over. Let me guide you.”

Mike’s breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling as Carlos’s grip tightened, grounding him in the overwhelming sensation. He let out a soft, broken moan, his head tipping back as the last vestiges of his resistance crumbled.

“That’s it,” Carlos said, his voice filled with satisfaction. His hand lingered, commanding and unyielding, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Mike’s ear.

Carlos’s voice dripped with satisfaction as his fingers trailed teasingly along the curve of Mike’s jaw, his dark eyes glinting with possessive intent. “You know, Mikey,” Carlos began, his tone low and almost purring, “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you in that pretty gear. The way it clung to you, showing off everything. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Mike shivered, his breath hitching as Carlos leaned in closer, his lips brushing against his ear. “And you’re so easy to control, aren’t you?” Carlos continued, his hand wandering back to Mike’s chest, pressing against the tight fabric. “Making this gear your trigger? That was genius. Every time you pull it on, you’ll feel it—the warmth, the sensation, the need. You’ll crave this, just like you’re craving it now.”

A soft, involuntary moan escaped Mike’s lips as Carlos’s hand slid downward, his fingers grazing the unmistakable strain in Mike’s shorts. The tight fabric did nothing to hide his cock, and Carlos’s touch was unrelenting, coaxing another breathy sound from Mike.

“You don’t have to hold back, Mikey,” Carlos murmured, his voice velvet smooth. He cupped the bulge firmly, his hand applying just enough pressure to make Mike’s knees wobble. “Let it all out. Don’t be shy.”

Mike’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttering shut as Carlos’s words wrapped around him like a spell. His body betrayed him completely, leaning into the touch, chasing the heat and the pleasure that came with it.

Carlos smirked, his hand moving with calculated precision, stroking the sensitive bulge as Mike let out another helpless moan. “Good boy,” Carlos whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You’re exactly where I want you. Completely under my control. And it feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Mike could only nod weakly, his mind a haze of sensation and submission. His body trembled, utterly at Carlos’s mercy, and as the tingling warmth spread through him once more, he knew there was no going back.

Mike’s world narrowed to the feel of Carlos’s touch, the sound of his voice, and the unbearable tension building inside him. With a final, shaky exhale, he surrendered completely, letting the wave of warmth and pleasure crash over him.

Carlos’s hand moved with firm purpose, his touch both commanding and deliberate as Mike’s body trembled under him. The tension in the air was thick, the heat radiating from Mike’s body palpable. Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against Mike’s ear as his fingers pressed into the fabric, now damp with the unmistakable evidence of Mike’s pre-cum.

“Can you feel it, Mikey?” Carlos murmured, his voice a low, sultry whisper. “The wetness? I can. Oh, I do. You’ve been holding back so much, haven’t you?”

Mike’s breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping his lips as Carlos’s words sank into him. His body was taut, trembling on the edge of release, and the relentless heat spreading through him made it impossible to think, to resist.

Carlos’s smirk widened as he stroked the damp fabric, his hand coaxing more soft sounds from Mike. “Let it out now,” Carlos commanded, his tone both soothing and firm. “Don’t fight it, Mikey. Stain your pretty gear. Show me how good it feels to let go.”

Mike let out a broken moan, his head tipping back as the last threads of his composure unraveled. His body arched slightly, pressing into Carlos’s hand as the overwhelming warmth and pressure finally spilled over.

Carlos’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt the fabric grow wetter beneath his touch, the proof of Mike’s surrender clear. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft but possessive. “You’ve done so well for me. That’s it—let go. Give it all to me.”

Mike sagged against Carlos, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the tension drained from his body, leaving only the hazy, blissful aftermath. Carlos’s hands remained steady, grounding him as he murmured soft praises, stroking his cheek with a gentle possessiveness.

Carlos’s hand lingered, pressing and stroking over the damp fabric with deliberate care. His touch was firm yet unhurried, a steady rhythm designed to keep Mike caught in the haze of sensation. Each stroke sent fresh shivers through Mike’s body, the wetness against the tight cycling gear amplifying the intensity of every movement.

“Good boy,” Carlos murmured, his voice low and velvety. “Such a good boy. You’ve done exactly what I wanted. Do you feel it now? How much better the gear feels like this?”

Mike let out a soft, breathless whimper, his body trembling under Carlos’s touch. The tight, wet fabric clung to him, every sensation heightened as the tingling warmth continued to spread through him. He managed a shaky nod, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

Carlos chuckled softly, his hand never stopping. “Oh, come on, Mikey. You can do better than that,” he coaxed, his tone teasing but laced with command. “Tell me. Tell me all about it. How does it feel now? How does it feel to give in completely?”

Mike’s head tipped forward slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “It… it feels…” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He struggled to form words, his mind still clouded with the overwhelming sensations.

“Go on,” Carlos urged, his hand pressing firmly over the wet bulge, sending another shiver through Mike. “Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“It feels… so good,” Mike finally managed, his voice breaking as another soft moan escaped him. “The gear… it feels better now. Tighter… warmer…” He trailed off, his cheeks flushing as he realized what he was saying.

Carlos’s grin widened, his satisfaction clear. “That’s my good boy,” he said softly, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over the wet fabric. “You’re right—it does feel better, doesn’t it? The warmth, the wetness, the way it clings to you. You can’t get enough of it now, can you?”

Mike shook his head weakly, his body sagging slightly as Carlos continued to stroke him, coaxing out every last bit of his surrender.

“That’s it,” Carlos murmured, his tone soothing and possessive. “Let yourself feel it all. Don’t hold back. You’re mine now, Mikey. And I’m so proud of you.”

Carlos’s grip on Mike was firm yet guiding as he reached down, taking Mike’s trembling hand in his own and pressing it firmly against the wet, sticky fabric of his bulge. Mike gasped softly at the contact, his eyes widening slightly as Carlos moved his hand over the wetness, making him feel every inch of himself.

“This is all you,” Carlos murmured, his voice smooth and commanding. “Feel it, Mikey. The sticky fabric clinging to you. You did this, and it’s perfect.”

Mike’s breath quickened, his hand hesitating for a moment before Carlos’s firm guidance encouraged him to press harder, to explore. His fingers trembled as he traced the contours beneath the gear, the sensations overwhelming.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against Mike’s ear as he whispered, “And the smell? Can you sense it, Mikey? That intoxicating, heady scent of you, of everything you’ve let out. Good. So good.”

Mike let out a shaky moan, his face flushing deeper as Carlos’s other hand slid up to his chest. He stroked Mike’s pecs through the tight, damp jersey, his fingers tracing slow circles over the fabric. “You’re beautiful like this,” Carlos said softly, his hand drifting upward to cup Mike’s flushed face. He caressed him gently, his thumb brushing over Mike’s reddened cheek. “Your face says it all, Mikey. You love this. You need this.”

Mike’s head tipped forward slightly, leaning into Carlos’s touch as his fingers twitched against the wetness. The tingling warmth still coursed through him, making every touch feel electric.

Carlos smiled, his hand guiding Mike’s again, encouraging him to stroke himself through the gear. “Go ahead, Mikey,” he urged, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Stroke yourself. Feel it all. Tell me how it feels.”

Mike’s lips parted, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he obeyed, his hand moving tentatively at first before growing bolder. His fingers pressed and traced, each movement sending a fresh wave of sensation through him.

“It feels… so good,” Mike whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability and pleasure. “The fabric… it’s so tight, so sticky… it feels… incredible.”

Carlos chuckled softly, his hand moving back to Mike’s chest, stroking and kneading the firm muscles beneath the damp jersey. “That’s my good boy,” he murmured, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Keep going. Let yourself feel everything. Don’t hold back.”

Mike’s moans grew louder, his body responding helplessly to the overwhelming sensations. Carlos’s words and touch grounded him, keeping him in the moment as he surrendered completely, lost in the haze of pleasure and submission.

Carlos’s hand moved swiftly to Mike’s chin, tilting his head upward so their eyes met. The grip was firm but not rough, a silent assertion of control. Mike’s breath hitched, his body frozen under Carlos’s intense gaze.

“Ah, ah,” Carlos chided, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not allowed to cum unless I say so, Mikey. You’re mine to control, and we both know you like it that way.”

Mike whimpered softly, his lips trembling as Carlos’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip. His hand stilled against the wetness of his gear, his body caught in a limbo of need and obedience.

Carlos’s lips curled into a sly smile as he released Mike’s chin, his hand trailing down to pat his cheek lightly. “That’s a good boy,” he murmured. “We’ve got plans, don’t we? We want to go on our ride, show you off in that perfect gear. Let the world see how good you look. How irresistible you are.”

Mike swallowed hard, his mind hazy but his body still tingling with anticipation. He nodded faintly, his eyes wide and glassy as he hung onto Carlos’s every word.

“But we can’t forget the most important thing,” Carlos continued, his tone shifting to one of playful practicality. He stepped back slightly, picking up Mike’s helmet from a nearby surface. “Safety first, Mikey. Always safety first.”

He leaned in, placing the helmet gently on Mike’s head and adjusting the straps with practiced care. The intimate, deliberate motions grounded Mike, pulling him slightly out of the haze. Carlos patted his cheek again, his grin widening as he stepped back to admire his work.

“There we go,” Carlos said, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Now you’re ready. But remember, Mikey—no cumming until I say so. Let that tension build. Let it drive you. You’ll thank me later.”

Mike nodded again, his body taut with both anticipation and obedience as Carlos’s words settled over him like a warm blanket. The promise of the ride ahead and the electric tension in his body left him trembling, completely under Carlos’s control.

Carlos let out a low chuckle, his hand still resting lightly on Mike’s cheek as he took in the dazed, almost dreamy expression on his face. Mike’s wide, unfocused eyes and slightly parted lips gave him the look of someone completely lost in a world of sensation and command.

Carlos’s gaze followed Mike’s as it drifted downward, taking in his own body as though he were seeing it for the very first time. The way the cycling gear clung to him, damp and snug, seemed to mesmerize him, and Carlos smirked at the sight.

“There you are,” Carlos murmured softly, smoothing his hands over Mike’s chest and down along his sides. He tugged slightly at the fabric, straightening it with deliberate care. Each touch sent a fresh shiver through Mike, who stood still, pliant under Carlos’s hands. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. My good boy.”

Satisfied, Carlos stepped back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the window. The sun was bright and inviting, casting a golden glow over the landscape outside. Carlos’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment before a grin spread across his face.

“Oh, we could use something extra, couldn’t we?” Carlos mused, turning back to Mike with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He reached for a sleek pair of cycling glasses resting on a nearby counter, holding them up for Mike to see. “What do you think, Mikey? Don’t you think these would complete the look? Make you even more irresistible?”

Mike blinked slowly, his eyes flickering to the glasses in Carlos’s hand. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Carlos leaned in closer, slipping the glasses gently over Mike’s ears and positioning them carefully on his face. “There we go,” he murmured, adjusting them until they sat just right. “Perfect fit. Now, put them on properly, Mikey. Show me how good you look.”

Mike’s trembling hands rose obediently, pressing the glasses firmly into place. The tinted lenses added an edge to his appearance, making him look sharp and focused even in his dazed state.

Carlos stepped back, his grin widening as he admired the sight before him. “There it is,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Now you’re ready. The world won’t know what hit it when it sees you like this.”

He placed a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before guiding him toward the door. “Come on, Mikey. Let’s take you out for a spin. The road’s waiting, and so am I.”

[clericsandpaladins]

So when Nancy asks Mike in Season 1 if he likes El, he says "What? No! Ew! Gross!" I find this to be hilarious because I used those exact same words the exact same way (same expression, tone, etc) in high school when I was trying to get people off my back when they'd ask if I had crush on a boy I was friends with (because apparently a boy and an AFAB person cannot be friends without having crushes on each other). Was I being defensive because I did in fact have a crush? No, I was fruity (albeit unknowingly) and pissed off at these annoying people who kept assuming.

[hawkins-batman]

might be too broad of a question, but what are your hopes for Will as a character in S5?

Ohhhh, I have a very specific list of hopes (demands) for Will in Season 5:

- I want there to be a pay off to him standing up to the Mind Flayer in Season 2. Obviously that didn’t work for him last time. But since it’s obvious he’s going to be dealing with that lingering connection and now knows who was behind his torment (Henry), I hope Henry tries again and Will is able to successfully throw him off this time. To stand up to his tormentor and win.

- I want him to be the hero for once. He needed to be rescued in Seasons 1-2 for understandable reasons, and then was sidelined by his friends for Seasons 3-4. He needs to see that Mike and El aren’t the only one who can be a hero. He has it in him, too. Next to El, he’s gone through more than any of them and is stronger than he knows. So I’d like to see HIM save and protect the group for once.

- I want him to be happy. To end up in the career he wants in the epilogue (or on the path to it). And I want him to get the boy he loves. He deserves that, I think, after all he’s struggled through.

[bookofwambs]

thinking about how will has probably come to terms that mike has chose el over him. and that he might never have the same friendship with mike as he once had and that he’s probably gonna be okay bc as long as mike is happy and el is happy, he’s fine with being in the background and no longer being the most important person in mike’s life. he’s come to terms that he won’t spend his life with mike, that they won’t play dnd and nintendo and whatever other games they like. and he’s also come to terms that there is no point in arguing with mike anymore about their friendship, he’s tried twice and was made out to be the bad guy and got yelled at. and so he won’t try anymore, he’ll take what he gets from mike, even if it’s just crumbles, even if the only reason mike keeps him around is so he can vent to him about his relationship problems. will won’t bother with asking mike to pick him, to ask mike why it came to this and why mike can’t seem to treat will the same way he does with lucas and dustin. he’s come to terms that he’s the only who’s the problem and who wouldn’t get his happy ending and he’s fine with it because as long as mike is happy with el then he’s happy too.

and isn’t that just sad.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton wishes he had FNAF Movie Mike's life,,

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

what if the first time steve and eddie actually meet is when steve picks up dustin, mike, and lucas from hellfire a month or so into their freshman year.

and when steve starts dicking around and roughhousing with dustin a bit.. thats when eddie sees him

him.

steve harrington.

king steve harrington.

king steve harrington, jock extraordinaire fucking with his new (pretty brittle, he got told off for the same thing at the beginning of the year by mike and lucas) sheepie

Eddie’s at the car in next to no time at all, tears steve off henderson, and punches him square in the face

edit: full thing here

[wiseheartted]

Will invented longings, love sighs, desperate love beats and heartfelt glances. He is the most lover-boy of the lovers-boys.

[samdeancest]

this is canon i know it

[gayofthefae]

Something about Mike needing to initiate in season 5, foreshadowing of the following season in the epilogue, and Will's looks when Mike isn't looking being completely absent after the ily speech.

(but Mike's got some)

They're still together. But the dynamic has shifted.

[marvey-sideblog]

"And it just happened to be empty?" "Something like that."

Suits 4x8 "Exposure" Mike returns to Pearson Specter and gets Harvey's old office.

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike Wheeler and Will Byers… Run.

[midnight--sadness]

Im sorry guys this is gonna be a rant lmao

I am geniunely disgusted that so mamy people are against byler and a byler kiss by using the excuse that they are "too young"

Like what????

So it cool for 12 yrs old Mike and El to fall in love and kiss and become endgame but not for Will and Mike?

Just say ur homophobic and shut tf up my god, these people comment under every post or edit of byler saying that we are delusional and that they are middle schoolers....bitch El had been out of the lab for a week when m*leven shippers decided that she belonged with Mike, my girl could barely form a single sentence

If two teen boys kissing and expressing their love makes u mad and yet kids younger than them pratically being promised to each other is normal, then u should rlly reavaluate ur priorities in life

Even in s3, when they are 14, it wouldnt be weird for Mike and Will to start to realize they have romantic feelings for each other, especially in a show like st that is a coming of age story and explores sexuality (Nancy's losing her virginity while her best friend is killed by a monster)