#this is very much a vague post if there ever was one & I’m absolutely vagueing

[r0semultiverse]

I don’t know, me personally, I just think two adults playing pretend & pretending being gross together with full open communication & consent between them is harmless, but maybe that’s just me.

[fictionaltrvlr]

I’m obsessed with all the repeating themes in the Hunger Games, but one I’m absolutely in love with is how Snow can never escape Lucy Gray.

[This post contains spoilers!]

We know this almost immediately simply from the title, Songbirds and Snakes, as we remember Katniss and her mockingjay and singing in the arena. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Snow hates Katniss for the rebellion, of course. But perhaps more than that is what a call she is to his lost love, not in personality so much as spirit.

Lucy Gray is Truly Inescapable

Lucy Gray is named for the Ballad of Lucy Gray, and immediately when we learn this, there is the sinking knowledge that she will not survive this story.

But after the disappearance of the ballad’s Lucy Gray, they follow her footprints, the impressions she’s left behind. And later is one of my favourite lines from the ballad:

Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child, That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome Wild.

To all the knowledge that the girls family has, she has died. But they still see her.

And also pulling in the newly released Can’t Catch Me Now:

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now

(I’m so in love with how well this song ties the franchise together, it’s so perfect)

From the second he lands in Twelve, Snow hates the mockingjays and does his best to eradicate them. He sees them as unnatural creatures who survived not only without the Capitol, but inspite of them. And yet he fails to get rid of them, the mockingjays survive despite his best efforts.

And even years later, their sheer existence haunts him, eventually proving to be one of his greatest failures.

And all of the messes you made Yeah, you think that you got away

This is a great line to me because, since this being told from the perspective of Lucy Gray, it turns the story on its head. We and Snow are never really sure if she survived, so you could think that she got away. But it’s in fact Snow who has deluded himself into getting away from her. She will follow him, everywhere, for the rest of his miserable life.

At the end of TBOSAS, he says there would be a vague memory of a girl who had once sung in the arena, and that Lucy Gray and her mockingjays could never hurt him again.

Then gloriously, devastatingly, 65 years later Snow sees another girl with braided hair from Distinct Twelve in the games, adorned with a mockingjay, who sings Rue to sleep, who escapes the arena by cheating with something the Capitol themselves has provided (Katniss with the berries, Lucy Gray with the snakes).

Katniss, who then goes on to spark rebellion with that same symbol of mockingjays, with the song that Lucy Gray penned.

Snow is seeing Lucy Gray everywhere, in the mockingjays, in Peeta’s personality, in Katniss’ appearance, in the song about that tree that changed his life. But he cannot catch her.

He tried, and never knew if he succeeded. But she is everywhere, the symbol of his weakness, the one thing that maybe could have made him give up his future. The person who made him come to detest the very idea of love, who made him swear that if he ever married it will be to someone he hates so they could never manipulate him.

Her spirit chokes him. He is drowning in her and her mockingjays, and they finally are his downfall.

And that is beautiful.

[iwoulddieforher]

Pondering Temperature | Casey Novak//&Alex Cabot

Author's Note:

First post ... I have absolutely no clue how tumblr works or how the tumblr social interaction is supposed to be, however, I am so obsessive about these two dumb gay lawyers I had to show up anyway.

No warnings & this is also partially a character study experiment for Casey ... I wanted it to feel like it was vaguely possible a scene like this could exist in canon.

Summary: One dumb gay lawyer has a rough time of it and the other dumb gay lawyer takes her for coffee and then they proceed to have a casual conversation with very gay overtones.

4.4k words, I think?

//Images stolen from either here or Pinterest

Like a breeze that exasperates an already cold New York winter, Alex Cabot made Casey Novak uncomfortable. Not outright agitated or irritable, but just enough of a nuisance that she couldn't push it out of her mind, and if she managed, she would be inevitably reminded of it shortly as the wind picked back up again, scattering snowflakes across her face.

For around a month, she and Cabot had been “sharing” SVU. She had returned from suspension, and Cabot had returned from wherever the hell she was, and the precinct wanted both of them so they just kept sharing caseloads. It should have made her thrilled- another ADA meant she could be even more hands-on in the active cases, be able to study each argument until she could perform all of her movements flawlessly. But with Cabot, it just didn't work right.

They said less than fifty words to each other per day, and none of them were ever in sentences. A quick, “another case came in- mine, or yours?”, “Olivia needs a warrant filled, so I’m going to the courthouse- did you need anything from a judge?” “Warner asked to see you,” “Olivia asked to see you,” “Cragen’s looking for you,” God. People were always looking.

The person giving the curt notice would never expect a response- if anything, a nod or a short “Yeah, on it”, and then exit immediately.

It felt ridiculously awkward. Warmer than greeting a defense counsel, because at least they were fighting the same fight, but compared to the warmth of connection shared by the rest of the squad- yes, okay, bickering was constant, but they cared about each other on a level hard for any outsider to understand- it felt cold.

Cold reminded Casey immediately of the teasing nickname the squad referred to Cabot with- ‘Ice Queen'. It didn't help that for the first months of becoming the Special Victims counselor, Casey was constantly fighting to fill the shoes of Cabot in the squad member's eyes- and now, that legendary blonde was perched casually in the office somewhere near her’s, her annoyingly cooperative naturally blonde hair flowing down her annoyingly straight, always squared back shoulders.

Fighting the squad's fiery rejection with her own fire of determination, setting everything ablaze in a stupid, unnecessary, inefficient inferno that Alexandra Cabot would never struggle with. Amazing.

“Earth to Casey.” Olivia broke through her thoughts, piquing an eyebrow at her and settling down at the chair across from Casey’s desk. The ADA casually slid her eyes down to the detective’s face, having mastered the art of not startling when people try to snap her back to active consciousness.

“Casey’s on Earth,” She hummed, tapping her pen idly on the desk.

"Sure you are." The detective snorted, shaking her head. "If you still had that red hair, I'd make a joke about you being a homesick martian."

Casey didn't have red hair anymore. She had blonde hair, like Alex. Except Alex's hair was a toned, icy blonde, while her own remained stubbornly warm no matter how much toner she tried to use to mask her original dark copper- at some point she quit trying, settling for a blonde so dirty it could possibly pass as light brown. That thought made her internally sigh with the level of rumination over that woman.

"What do you need?"

Benson dropped a case file on her desk, a grimace that reads of determined resignation on her face. "Could you get a warrant?"

Casey's brain clicked back over to work mode, sliding her finger along the side of the case file out of habit before freeing the pages from the bounds of a paperclip and skimming over the words. "This seems straightforward.. oh."

She blinked, slowly, glancing up at Liv without breathing. The police officer doesn't seem to notice anything wrong with her- thank god, sometimes Liv can be very unobservant- although she's very observant where it counts, so perhaps that's a rude musing to make- so she doesn't move to cover her hesitation.

"So, you want to pop the shrink?" She says, tracing the word 'schizophrenic' with the pad of her index finger.

Olivia nods, stiffening her shoulders in the sort of half-shrug motion that thinned her lips that Casey had come to identify with her. "We want to know more about his delusions to see if that matches up with what happened to this woman, but the good doctor just doesn't want to talk. He's also suspicious as hell, so..."

Casey huffs, squinting at a page. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well, that's your job, isn't it?" Olivia snarks, feisty but not overtly mean, just.. Liv-like. The toll of being a detective, Casey supposed, was her sense of urgency overriding politeness. That's fine. That's what she's grown used to, anyway. It doesn't stop Casey from gritting her teeth with a twitched eyebrow as Olivia stalks off.

It takes her a bit longer than she would've liked to prepare to take this into the judge on rotation's chambers. The affidavit was written, and sat unassumingly on her desk, while she tried to steel her nerves. If she's honest, she wished Olivia had chosen to take this to Cabot instead of her. Donnelly's leering eyes as she squinted at Casey around any mention of mental illness in perps made her immensely thrilled said judge was not likely to be inside said court today.

The judge who was inside the building, however, was not very sympathetic to the issue.

In all honesty, Casey doesn't really even understand how the argument happened. One moment she was walking up the steps into the polished, posh building and then she was walking down them, barely contained fury in her eyes and in the way she clenched her jaw.

"But you have to understand," she replays her own voice in her mind, the schooled, smooth tone, "doctor-patient confidentiality does not extend this far. If this man is genuinely a danger to himself and everyone around him, there's no reason this psychiatrist should be permitted to without vital information-"

The way the judge had raised a finger in her face, silencing her as one might a little irritated kid, "If this doctor thought that there was a genuine concern, then of course he would have. But these cases are sensitive, and I will not stand for the usage of these very personal admissions as shock value-"

"I assure you, any information found using this warrant will not be abused, Your Honor, and the detectives-"

"You don't have enough on him to guarantee him as a prime suspect, and could easily lead to a misdirection in the investigation and therefore in this court. Granting this warrant right now would be premature and lead too-"

"I understand and acknowledge what you're wary of, but I can assure you-"

"I don't think you can assure me of anything with a case like this, Novak." The judge had snapped, just shy of a scoff- but they followed it up quickly so it didn't come off too much like a personal jab with a "I see no reason why this is necessary."

Casey internally flared in response, standing utterly still for a moment as it felt like an engine ignition fumbled in her stomach, before exhaling and nodding. "Thank you for your time, Your Honor." She replied as a rehearsed courtesy and nothing more, turning to leave the judge's chambers.

The judge had raised an almost withered looking finger, denying her exit. "Novak, I want you to know, I'm watching your movements on this case. It's not your job to carry out personal justice as you see fit. I don't want a repeat of-"

"I'm aware I've made mistakes in the past, Your Honor, but I assure you I will not repeat prior incidents." Her voice had cracked almost imperceptibly at the end, a motion neither had acknowledged- perhaps the judge hadn't noticed, but Casey had- a sound like a wooden block in a fireplace.

The judge stared at her for a moment, and she had stared back, disguising the fire behind her green eyes with the practiced blanket of professionalism. The judge had then nodded, looking away from her, and she was finally released from the interaction. The sharp, curt sound of her heels on the marble floors as she stalked away had been her tether, fixated on the sound while schooling herself away from obsessing over the blazing anger.

And that led her to the stairs again, on the way out, where she stopped and stood blankly for a moment, staring into the street without registering anything. She ground her teeth against each other, trying her best to wrangle in her fiery temper before she impulsively sunk her teeth into something she could control-

"Casey?"

She jerked her head to the side, where a composed if not a bit concerned Alex Cabot stood, her head tilted just the slightest. Her cold blue eyes bore into Casey's face in a way that strangely was not uncomfortable.

When she didn't immediately grant that with any real response, Cabot followed it up with, "You okay?"

The beast of adrenaline-filled fire in her stomach flared out of her control again, pouncing and writhing in her organs. She wasn't exactly sure what about Alex at this moment had her infuriated, but god, she was.

Her years of experience in court, especially her time with SVU where she'd needed to control her emotions with an iron fist if not to fumble her arguments out of anger and easily-placed personal attachment, had taught her enough to respond in a way that didn't indicate her fury.

To the average person.

Unfortunately, Alex Cabot was not an average person, and her own years of experience allowed her to see right through the younger attorney, which did absolutely nothing for Casey's misplaced anger.

"Peachy," Casey started, before realizing she didn't have anything to follow that up with, so she left it with a curt, overtly controlled nod.

"Sure you are." Alex smiled, jerking her eyebrows up to indicate her sarcasm that definitely didn't need to be further emphasized, and Casey felt like she could deck her. She briefly wondered what Alex would look like beneath her on her floor, pale skin on cold concrete, before deciding that's not exactly an appropriate pondering of her coworker.

Cabot clearly intended for her successor-turned-ally to elaborate on the source of her grievance, but Casey did not particularly feel like explaining herself, so she simply bit the corner of her lip out of habit and looked away from her, tucking her hands in her coat pockets and squaring her shoulders.

If she was honest to herself, she didn't really know what to explain, anyway. She knew that after returning from something as appalling as her Brady-violation-censure, she'd need to work five times as hard to regain the respect she had thus lost, and it was in no way surprising she had gained a reputation for being loose with cases that could relate to her more personally. Alex could understand that, but saying that out loud was not only pathetic but also did not accurately encompass the feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. And part of her anger, now, was simply due to the presence of the other woman, which she definitely could not verbalize either.

Alex was cool, calm, composed, and her demeanor reminded Casey of the layer of ice built by cold weather on the surface of a lake. Glassy and honest, and in all ways beautiful, but in a way that concealed whatever lurked beneath all that. You could look through it, sure, see the color of the water, but until it melted what you were really standing above was something you could only wonder about.

Standing next to her made Casey feel rather inferior. She had always felt things more strongly than peers, always pictured her anger and her righteousness as altruistic flame, and in the beginning of her career this untethered drive to fight for justice had been a valuable asset, something that drove her to snarl at wrongdoers in white collar in a way other attorneys simply could not. But in special victims? Where everything was so personal, so connected, so intrinsically human? Every spark became an inferno, every morning harder to struggle to leash herself than the last. Once the wildfire was over, everything was laid bare and burnt on the floor of whatever hill Casey had so chosen to die on. And cold, ever-composed Alex Cabot knew nothing of that.

The roar of fire in Casey's heart had no similarity to the tranquility of ice displayed exclusively by Alex. Perhaps that's why Casey would never be able to live up to the legend Cabot was regarded as. It made her feel disgustingly human- something this job did not allow her room for.

"We're getting coffee," Alex says suddenly, snapping Casey out of her internal monologue to herself for the second time. The natural blonde's words were snipped but not unkind, but that didn't stop Casey from raising her eyebrows, trying to muster the icy attitude she just didn't really have in her.

Before she can retort with anything of sustenance, she feels Alex's slim fingers on the back of her coat, right on the curve of her shoulder blade, and the taller woman beginning to lead her in firm strides that she without thinking copied.

"Alex-"

"Are we going to a cafe- perhaps the one down the street, the one with all the monsteras in the windows, so we can sit down, or are we going to the coffee cart over there so we can continue this discussion in the office?"

"What are we continuing, exactly?" Casey bristled, shooting her a look, which Alex met without her proper smile faltering in the slightest.

"My vote," Cabot says casually, "is for the cafe. I like the atmosphere there."

Casey can feel her anger ebbing, but just for the sake of spiting her she indicated with her jaw towards the shape of the coffee cart a hundred meters or so down the street.

She internally groans when she reads through the lines of Alex's brisk side-smirk and behavior to realize the blonde had, in fact, also preferred the coffee cart and knew Casey was going to try to jab in like that- but Novak doesn't change her decision, nor does that realization add to any sort of negative emotion. The fire-monster in her heart growled a soft, "well played," before creeping back into a crevice in her ribcage.

They walk in an odd silence, Alex's hand on Casey's back never relenting despite her now willingness to follow the older woman's direction. Casey doesn't want to admit to herself how she's started easing into the touch.

She misses it just slightly when Alex finally does let her hand slide back to her own side as they approach the coffee cart salesman, but she focuses on reading and contemplating the menu, reaching for her purse before being rewarded with the feeling of Alex's finger brushing her wrist in a way that firmly dismissed the assumption Cabot was going to allow Casey to pay for herself. She raises her eyes in mild surprise, only to find Alex already looking at her, eyes showing a degree of knowingness that makes Casey's insides turn with mild discomfort. In an effort to resolve that, she resigns to allow Alex to cover her.

"I'll have an iced caffé mocha, please," Alex starts, then turning to Casey, who after a blank pause finishes with "and I'll take a cappuccino."

After Alex finds her wallet with a significant lack of fumbling that makes Casey again irritated at her inability to have the most basic human struggles, and after the salesman hands over two paper cups, Casey spins on her heel and begins back towards the DA's office.

"Iced coffee? Really? We live in New York, Alex, it's freezing already." She critiques, although more so simply because it's the only thing she can formulate to say. She finds that she doesn't regret starting with that, though, as Alex wrinkles the tip of her refined nose playfully.

"God knows with our job I need the sugar," Cabot takes a sip, then gestures at the steam rising from the mouthpiece of Casey's coffee's lid, "and I don't have the patience to wait for my coffee to cool enough for me to drink it."

Casey snorts. "You? Without patience? And I just sacrifice my throat."

With that, she takes a defiant sip, soothed in an odd way by the feeling of the too-hot coffee in her throat, although as she was already aware of from the feeling of it in her palm it wasn't really *that* hot. Alex responds with a furrowed brow.

"I'm- I'm not quite sure you should do that, Casey."

"I'm not sure you're in a position to question what I do, Cabot," she snarked, riled up again, before catching herself with a huff and then a slightly shameful, "Sorry."

"It's okay-" Alex starts, and then immediately echoes at Casey's scoff, "no, seriously, it's okay. I snapped at you when I was literally your client, back when you prosecuted my case- remember? So I'll let that one go now. And besides, I do sometimes question what you do, so that's not unfair regardless."

Casey turns her head briskly, an indignant almost-glare of confusion on her face, which Alex responds to with a puff of air that almost sounds like a giggle.

"Not in the way you're thinking, Casey."

The younger woman pauses in her steps, and Alex looks up in mild surprise to realize they've already reached the DA's office. A twinge of fear signals in her heart at Casey's silence, especially because the woman is facing straight and thus Alex could not read her expression, but then Novak briskly says,

"Well, lucky for you, you actually have started a discussion I want to continue. So as per your previous suggestions, we can take this to my office if that-" she turns, and Alex is met with an unreadable expression that doesn't exactly soothe her nerves yet replaces said anxiety with the momentary stun that comes from meeting the eyes of someone beautiful, "is still acceptable with you."

Alex takes an extra millisecond to respond which causes a small crease to appear between Casey's eyebrows, but when she hears the older woman's, "gladly", she visibly relaxes and continues on her path.

They remain in silence, Alex allowing Casey to pave the way ahead of her despite knowing where her office was, until the door had clicked behind both attorneys and Casey was seated on the couch in her office with Alex perched across from her, mirroring the way they had composed themselves years ago when Casey was preparing Alex for trial.

"You said you question me," Casey began bluntly, prodding, "what did you mean by that?"

The younger attorney leans forward, elbow on her knee, short of entering Alex's space but enough that Alex's spine leans automatically backwards.

Alex clears her throat, rather enjoying the way Casey approached the given situation like a courtroom exchange, crossing one lithe leg over the other. Casey pretends like she didn't trace the motion over in her mind, keeping her eyes schooled on Alex's face.

"When you hear about the details of a case, your eyes light up. And I don't mean in the normal expression of, say, 'her eyes lit up in excitement', but your eyes look like a spark ignite behind them and it doesn't go away until you hear that guilty verdict."

"Alright, smooth-talker, that doesn't answer my question-"

"And I question that," Alex cuts in with a tilt of her head, "in the sense that I question how one can be that driven."

With that, the dynamic is suddenly shifted, Alex leaning forward intently while Casey, who is momentarily caught off guard, leans in the opposite direction, her back pressed against the couch, sharp eyes studying Alex's face.

"You sink your teeth into every case you prosecute like a lioness holding out for her own and there's something gorgeous about watching you pace in that courtroom landing blow after blow, until the jury is so sure of your own authenticity it makes every defense counsel seem subpar." Alex continues seamlessly, encouraged by the faintest flush on Casey's cheekbones.

Cabot lets out a sigh, then, "When I go out with the detectives to celebrate a case, I see something similar in their faces- that sort of fierceness, that... that fire. And if I'm honest, I.. I just don't relate."

Casey blinks blankly at her, and Alex shakes her head with a twitched eyebrow. "I'm driven to succeed, obviously. I'm not selling myself short, I really will do everything possible to ensure justice is served. But we're not only prosecutors, we also need to be politicians, and I know that especially because of my uncle being a judge- I ended up working in SVU as a strategic decision. I learned to love working here, to get invested on a deeper level that matters, but... somehow, in maintaining all of that in my head, I just- that personal enrapture with each case you have, I wish I had that. I question that- how you have that, when I can't. I think it makes you an exceptional prosecutor."

The younger ADA's jaw opened as if to respond, but then she bit down on empty air, eyes narrowing as she processed Alex's almost random confession.

"And, to my understanding," Alex started again, "in the beginning, you didn't even want this job. And yet you devour every hardship you encounter now regardless. So I watch you, what you do, how you approach things, and I question that, because I really want to understand."

They sit in silence for a short moment, Casey's eyes so harsh that anyone else would prickle, uncomfortable with the examination, but Alex barely shifts, still leaning forward.

"Jesus, Alex." Casey huffs, finally. "Here I was, jealous as hell of your ability to seem so... unfazed. Nonchalant, even."

Alex offers a small, apologetic smile. "Unfortunately that couldn't be further from the truth. I am very chalant- well, not as much as you, but I wish that I was. That I could be. Lose myself in the case and forget all about the facade."

"The fact that you don't," Novak murmurs, "is what makes you so admirable to me, though." Casey bites the corner of her lip, her eyes dropping to somewhere near Alex's knee, although it's obvious she's neglecting her sense of sight to focus on the mental weight of the conversation. Her voice, normally either curt or rough, sounds like a low hum that Alex decides she wouldn't mind hearing a lot more of.

Casey has the odd urge to divulge her struggles now onto Alex. Tell her about the constant comparison between them she had been faced with, tell her about the way exactly what Alex found interesting in her was what made her be known as a liability or a hazard, whine and ramble and lay herself bare. The last of the indulgent flames flickered to an end as she eased, the air she breathed out heavier as she felt tension leave her spine.

She doesn't really want to verbalize all that, though. And thankfully she doesn't have too, because stupidly attractive Alex Cabot is so perceptive that it's apparent to Casey the older woman had sensed not only the original stress but also the release of it, and Alex's demeanour shifted just slightly to reveal her own satisfaction with eliciting such a reaction from her compliments alone. It's enough, for Casey, though, to know now that perhaps her own scrutinizing comparisons may be more self critical than necessary- or, at least, that Alex seems to believe in her.

They sit there, in silence, for a bit longer than they could ever explain to anyone else, Casey still staring blankly off into space but in the direction of Alex while the latter woman stares very bluntly at Casey.

"So, the next time you get all fired up," Alex says slowly, watching Casey's eyes as they faze back into focus, "I hope you know that's something I appreciate about you. And if you wish, you can come find me, and we'll get coffee again."

"I'll pay, next time," Casey says hurriedly, glancing towards the coffee cups that had been more or less completely forgotten about on her side table. She hesitates, squinting as she tries to figure out which one of them had contained her's.

Alex picks up on the confusion and then becomes similarly conflicted on the coffee cup ownership, tentatively picking up the one closest to her and taking a sip before quickly shaking her head and putting it back down. "Sorry- the cup felt cold, so I thought it was mine. This one's yours, it must have just cooled while we were talking."

She slides it on the table towards Casey, who accepts it, taking a swig. Alex is right- her's had cooled down till it was room temperature, while Alex's had warmed up to meet it.

"You did that." Casey says softly, almost accusingly, using the coffee as an allegory for herself that Alex apparently does not understand based on the furrowed brow she got in response.

Novak waves her hand vaguely, and Alex shrugs to herself, choosing to resign herself from the confusion and instead internally celebrate the fact Casey had just agreed on a 'next time'.

"I've got arraignment, soon," Alex breathed, although something in her itched to stay just the slightest bit longer, to watch Casey's features for just an extra couple seconds, "but I'm glad we had this talk."

"It's given me a lot to think about," Casey responded smoothly, standing with a nod to herself. "Alex... thank you."

A small hint of rosy color graced Alex's smooth skin, and she smiled warmly in a way Casey would have previously doubted she was capable of. The older woman followed Casey to her feet, her hand finding Casey's shoulder again briefly as a goodbye, before Alex nodded kindly and turned to disappear out into the world once more, collecting her coffee cup before she left.

Casey watched her leave, green eyes studying her lithe figure for as long as possible before she really did vanish entirely.

In the back of her mind, she vaguely hoped that this arrangement would continue 'till the summer, because she could bet the cold breeze she had come to associate with Alex Cabot would feel wonderful in warmer weather.

And for now, apparently, she could count on her gorgeous coworker to warm up her day's experience with coffee.

[treasure444]

Title: I'm so in love with you. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader WC: ~3.7K Content Warnings: SMUT (Unprotected, Simon is a biiiit of a bottom, Simon likes being bit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, feels, Reader gets injured, angst but it does have a good/happy ending. I know I just posted a Simon Riley fic, but the brain rot DO be brain rotting. My current hyperfixation. I have lots of other stories half-written or fleshed out for all the characters I write for, and I am getting to them, I promise!!

Wonderfully beta'd by the ever amazing @universitypenguin - if you have not read anything Alice has posted, please do so! The Princess and The Lawyer is AMAZING!!

Requests are open, feel free to submit, and to those who already have, I promise I am working on them!!

It was moments like these that you genuinely dreaded, sometimes wishing that you had chosen something different. Everyone, even now, always questioned why this was the career chosen. You had never been able to fully answer, always giving a vague, ‘I’m in it for the same reasons everyone else is.’ Never truly knew why, what pulled you here. 

The satisfaction when you had won was unlike any other, but so were the nightmares. The constant replay of the field, the battles, the close calls that could have ended up much worse. It was never about you, no, rather your teammates. The close calls they faced, that were your fault. If you had been a few seconds quicker, or had just slowed down and aimed properly, you could’ve avoided these moments.

That’s where you currently found yourself, in a meeting with Captain Price, and Lieutenant Riley. Both very terrifying men. At least, Price was trying to make it easier on you, giving soft smiles, and ‘Ghost, relax. Everyone makes mistakes.’ 

A bite of ‘doesn’t matter, they should be able to conduct themselves properly.’ Was fired back. It was no secret the Lieutenant had a distaste for you. Maybe because you were ‘reckless’ as he had described you multiple times. Perhaps it was because at the end of the day he ended up having to save you more than once. Soap had attempted to calm your nerves one day, explaining ‘he gets like this with everyone. ‘S not just you.’ 

You saw the way he acted upon passing. With other soldiers, it was a very slight almost imperceptible nod of his head, but for you the ever-present scowl on his face seemed to deepen. No matter what you had tried, you could never get that recognition that you so desperately wanted. 

“Captain,” you said, gaining his attention, “W-While I appreciate the help, he’s not wrong. I-I don’t agree with the way he’s making his points, but I should’ve been paying more attention. Gaz could’ve been seriously hurt i—“ 

“He could’ve been killed! Because of you!” Ghost’s voice boomed across the Captain’s office. You jumped in your seat.

“You’re absolutely right,” you said looking at Ghost, “and I am sorry.” 

He grunted in response, before stalking out of the room.

“Ignore him, he’s stressed out over the next mission.”

You shook your head, “He’s right. Gaz could’ve died because of my mistake.” The guilt sat stationary in your chest. 

Price offered a sympathetic smile, “Ghost’s has also had some close calls. That is very similar to the potential today. We all have had some pretty close calls. Don’t let him get in your head.” 

You nodded, and rose from the chair on a shaky breath, “thank you.” 

Price nodded, “You’re welcome. There’s a debriefing in an hour.” He reminded. 

You nodded and walked out to get ready for the meeting. 

Three hours later you had found yourself in the middle of the battlefield. According to Price, it should’ve been an ‘easy’ mission. Gather the intel and get out, you hadn’t planned for the ambush. You had been almost positive you were safe, hidden behind a barrel, Ghost beside you. That was until you caught sight of the enemy behind you. 

You caught them raising their gun, aiming for the lieutenant. Soap screamed for him, you pushed him clean out of the way before hearing two gunshots ring out. One of which had pierced the enemy, knocking him down instantly. The other lodged itself into your thigh. You didn’t quite register the shot at first. Not until Soap was by your side. 

“Just go. Scan the perimeter, make sure there’s no more, make sure Gaz has the intel.” You spoke before he even had a chance to say anything to you. Soap ran off, you sat yourself down, still hiding behind the barrel. Your hand weakly pressing against the wound in your thigh. 

You leaned your head back against the barrel, closing your eyes as your hand was replaced by Ghost’s gloved appendage. You whined as he put more pressure than you had been. “I know, I know. Stay with me.” 

You giggled softly, “ironic, isn’t it?” Your head rolled to the side. “This time it wasn’t you saving me.” 

You watched Ghost’s eyes pass between your face and your leg repeatedly. His voice became distorted as he spoke into the walkie on his shoulder, more than likely explaining the situation to Price, and Gaz. Your eyelids grew heavy, so you opted to keep them closed. 

You could hear the concern in Ghost’s voice, but you could no longer hear the words. Could still feel the gloved hand pushing at your skin, but no longer the pain. You slowly allowed yourself to fall into the unconsciousness pulling at you. 

You came to, to the sounds of beeping and hushed voices. Confused, you opened your eyes, “Jesus.” You squinted, looking around. You found Price, and Ghost by your bedside. 

“Hey. How do you feel?” Price spoke, keeping his voice soft. 

“What happened?” Your voice came out weak. Ghost handed you a small paper cup with a straw. Noting he didn’t have the gloves on anymore. 

“Drink this. Small Sips. ” He spoke. You took it, taking a small sip as he instructed.

“You were shot.” Price spoke up again, and everything came back to you, “You were lucky. The bullet missed the femoral artery. Small fracture, you’re off for the next 8 to 12 weeks.” 

“8 to 12 weeks?” Your eyes widened, “No, Price there has to be a mistake! Surely it won’t take that long!” You handed the cup back to Ghost.

“That’s what the doctor has said, and that’s what we’re going by.” Price told you before his phone went off, and he walked out to take the call. 

You groaned, throwing your head back into the pillows. Ghost chuckled before handing you the cup again, “I bet you’re really regretting taking that bullet for me now huh?” 

You looked over at him, “not at all,” you smiled, “but I have to ask, where’d the gloves go?” 

You heard, more than saw, the audible gulp he took. “Had to take them off.” 

You nodded like you understood the implication of what he was saying. Which you did. You remembered him pressing his hands down against the wound trying to get the blood to clot. Saw how your blood stained the white part of the skeleton fabric. 

When you looked back up at him, you could see the fear. For once you saw your strong-willed, cold-hearted lieutenant, genuinely scared. For you. Like he was reliving what happened. Like he couldn’t believe you were still here. 

The word lucky rattled around in your brain. Echoing Price’s infliction. You were incredibly lucky, though you weren’t sure you’d admit it out loud. Something had shifted. You weren’t able to pinpoint exactly what, but something in the air of your hospital room felt different.

The aftermath of a mission always did funky things to you. Things you could never fully understand. Adding to that, the fact that you had been out of commission for the last 10 weeks. You had been a little rusty. Which was how you found yourself being dragged out to Ghost’s office. You were sure that he was mad, that he was going to berate you when he called you to his office. However, he led you past his office, and into his personal quarters. “You’re always such a problem.” He said as he closed the door behind you. 

“I didn’t see it!” You watched him. 

“I’m not saying anything.” He defended. 

“You are! You’re saying that I’m a problem.” 

“Because you are. I consistently am having to step in and save your ass because you’re so reckless.” 

“You can’t seriously sit there and get caught up in the few times you’ve saved me! Are you serious?! This is a fucking joke. You’re a fucking joke.” Your voice raised, anger shooting through your body. 

Ghost glared at you. “I’M the joke?! You must really think highly of yourself!” 

“Highl— What?! This is. No. No! I’m leaving. I will not allow you to sit here and treat me like this.” You stomped towards the door. You didn’t make it very far, before Ghost’s hand wrapped around your upper arm. 

“Do you care so little for your own life?” He spun you around to face him.

”What?” 

“Honestly, you’re reckless on the field, you almost stepped on a damn landmine today!! You took a bullet for me!” 

“I told you, I didn’t see it! I’m not reckless, and who knows what would have happened if I had let the bullet hit you! You could’ve died! I wasn’t willing to watch anything happen to you, when I could’ve helped!” 

“Why?!” 

“Because I care about you! Because the thought of you not being here hurts me more than I want to admit! Because the thought of not hearing your fucking voice every day, scares me!” You shouted, feeling the tears come to the surface of your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of him. 

The shock of your words had Ghost releasing his grip on you, if only slightly. You shook your head. “Forget it.” you sniffled and opened the door walking further down the hallway. Ghost snapped to his senses, and called you, but you were out of his sight. 

You had asked Price for some extra time. “A few more weeks, I want to make sure that I’m ready to be on the field again.” Was what you had told him, when in reality, you wanted to prolong your solitude. You hadn’t spoken to Ghost since your outburst, but he seemed content in letting it happen. Leaving you alone. 

Sure, you had run into each other a few times, damn near impossible not to, but never spoken to each other. In the time that you hadn’t been on missions, you spent it in your room reading, or in the gym trying to strengthen yourself. 

The boys had come back from another successful mission, elated but bruised. You smiled and hugged each of them with the exception of Ghost. You merely nodded at him, he stood stoic as ever. 

Soap threw his arm around you before leading you inside, with everyone following, “You’ll have to come with us on the next one. It’ll be just like old times!” He sang. 

You giggled, “yeah, maybe. We’ll see how I’m feeling.” 

“Well, at least come out to drink with us tonight! We’re heading to Bar Code.” Soap shook your shoulders lightly. He was always in a good mood after a successful mission. 

You nodded, “Sure.” 

That was how you found yourself in civilian clothing, sitting across from Price. Just shooting the shit with the boys reminded you of old times, better times. Price called your name, “you’ve been training. A lot harder than we’ve seen you before.” 

You smiled, knowing it was a compliment of the highest form, “Thank you, sir. I just want to make sure that I’m ready to be back in the field.” 

“So, I can count on you for the next one then?” 

Your smile widened, as you nodded, and Soap and Gaz whooped and cheered. “Well!” Gaz was the one to throw his arm around you this time, “I say that’s cause for celebrations! I’ll go get more drinks.” 

He moved to stand, but you put your hand on top of his on your shoulder, “let me.” You giggled as he withdrew and stood, walking over to the bar. 

Ordering what you knew everyone liked, you leant against the bar as you waited for the drinks. A slimy looking man slid next to you, “what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, moving away slightly, “I’m not alone. Here with some friends.” Of course Ghost had caught sight of him before he got close to you. 

The man followed you, before a hand reached out to grip your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned away. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I bet they won’t even notice if you’re gone.” You could smell the alcohol on him before he even opened his mouth. 

You kept pushing at his chest, getting more alarmed by the moment, “I-I’m flattered, but not interested,” you looked around for someone, anyone to help you, but found no one. “I really should get back to my friends.” 

In an instant, Ghost was by your side. Unwrapping the stranger's hand from you before pulling you behind him. “You okay?” He looked over his shoulder at you. 

You nodded, and walked to the table silently. From what you saw the unknown man backed down pretty quickly, given Ghost was still in his tac gear, minus the vest. 

Ghost had come back with the drinks and set them down. Not another word was said between you and him for the rest of the night. 

Getting back to the base, everyone went their separate ways. Everyone except Ghost who pulled you with him into an empty barracks room. It was a standard room, with a bed in the back corner, small desk and lamp on the right side, and an armoire on the left.   “Ghost.. What do–” 

“Simon.” He cut you off. 

You tilted your head, confused. “Call me Simon. Please.” 

“Okay… Simon. Is there something you need?” 

His eyes fluttered shut as you said his name. “I think a conversation is needed.” 

“Conversation about what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“What did you mean?” His eyes opened, solely focusing on your face, your reaction to him. “You said you care about me. But there’s so many things that could mean.” 

You took a deep breath in, and dropped your arms. “I’m exhausted. We can talk about this later.” You turned for the door. 

Simon muttered your name, “You and I both know if you walk out of here, this conversation won’t ever happen.” His voice stopped you from moving any further. “Please.” His voice softened to a whisper. 

“You’re a big boy, Simon. I’m sure you can figure it out. Given the context.” 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why? So you can embarrass me some more? To make me relive that specific part of the conversation for days? I already have. I shouldn’t have said anything, it was vastly inappropriate.” 

Simon shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Tell me. Please.” 

A shiver flew down your spine. “You make it sound so easy. It won’t fix anything.” 

Simon stayed quiet behind you. He was close enough at this point to feel the body heat he gave off. You sighed, defeated. “I care about you.” You whisper. 

“And what does that mean?” Simon whispered back. 

You closed your eyes, staying quiet. This time when he said your name, he coated it in adoration, in awe. Pressing his body even closer, you caved. 

“I’m into you.” You felt his forehead come to rest on your shoulder. 

“Again.” He commanded, softly as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

You smiled, biting your lip, “I like you.” 

Simon pulled you back so you were fully flush against him. “Again.” 

“I have feelings for you.” 

His grip tightened, hand moving to your hip as he spun you to face him. “Once more.” He watched you. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I am so in love with you it hurts sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” He breathed, and you nodded as his face drew closer. 

“Yeah” you whispered moments before he pushed his mask up just past his nose, and kissed you. 

Fuck, he was good. He knew how to hook you in, one hand resting on the hinge of your jaw, and the other on your waist. Pulling you in, while simultaneously keeping you where he wanted you.

You couldn’t resist kissing back, placing your hands firmly on his chest. You could feel the low rumble he let out. Pulling away for a second, Simon dragged his thumb down the center of your lips. Your breathing was rapid, your mind felt like it was in the clouds. 

Without thinking, you leaned back in to capture his lips this time. His hands drifted down your body, before tapping the backs of your thighs. You shook your head only slightly to still keep your lips attached to his. 

He grunted into your mouth, before crouching slightly, and lifting you into his arms. You gasped before breaking apart, “Simon, put me down.” 

You saw his lips pull up into a smirk, “gladly” you watched his mouth form the word. He walked over, tightening his grip only moments before dropping you against the mattress. 

You squealed softly, before this mountain of a man was sprawled out on top of you, reattaching his lips to any skin he could find. Kissing down your face, to your neck. Hands pawing at your body, lifting your shirt to caress your skin. You whined, before sitting up only enough to pull your shirt off. 

“Atta girl.” Simon praised before reattaching his mouth to yours. His hands roaming your body, gently groping along his way as he finds the buttons on your jeans and slides them along with your panties off in one motion. 

You truly don’t know what came over you, the need to have Simon under you, succumbing to whatever you wanted, was overwhelming. 

So that was exactly what you decided to do, as you heaved your body so you had him pinned beneath you. The surprise of it alone had him pulling away from you. Hands coming to rest on your thighs. 

You made a show of removing your bra, the accompanying groan from him as you removed the last article of clothing was satisfying. You carefully slid down his body, removing articles of clothing as you went, until he was completely naked, and completely at your mercy. You looked down at him, your lip between your teeth. 

“Not so big and bad now are you?” You spoke softly, lining Simon’s leaking cock with your entrance, not able to stand another moment of the teasing.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, baby.” Simon gritted out. 

“Me? Never” You spoke, sliding him inside until you were flush with his hips. Gasping, as he gently bucked up into you. 

The grunt Simon let out had you clenching around him. His hands clasped around your hips, expletives being whispered into the air around you two. 

You brought yourself up just enough for him to slide out enough, before dropping yourself back down. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Simon whined. 

The sound alone had you falling forward, hands coming up to catch yourself on his chest. You let out a moan, as his hands roamed your body. “C’mon. Need me to take the lead?” He teased. 

You bit your lip as you straightened yourself out, and started bouncing on his cock. Simon’s head rolled back further into the pillow. Small chants of yes left his mouth. You glanced down at him, completely at your mercy, and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. 

Simon’s neck had been on full display, the veins distended, almost inviting. He was clenching his teeth, so as to keep all those little sounds in. Eventually, the intrusive thought won and you leant forward. Lips and teeth sucking a bright red hickey into his neck. “Oh, Fuck.” Simon mewled. 

Laving your tongue over the new mark, you felt a swell of pride. “Can’t take it?” You whispered into his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe. Simon let out a high pitched whine. “Who knew Simon Riley liked being bitten huh?” 

His hands settled back on your hips, “please” he grunted. 

You cooed, straightening and planting your hands on his chest once again, as you worked yourself against his cock. “Awwww. D’you wanna cum?” 

Increasing your speed, you could feel the stutter in his breath under your hands. One of his hands running up your back, to cup the back of your neck, pulling you down. 

Capturing your lips, he kissed any and all smart comments, and thoughts out of your head. Simon pulled away from you enough to let out a long, drawn out moan, as your hips stuttered, and you felt the warmth of his cum flooding you. 

You gasped, not expecting it so quickly. The pure, unadulterated power you felt in this moment was enormous. You just made big, bad, cold-hearted Simon Riley cum before you. 

Simon’s hands fell to your thighs, gently running his fingers over where the bullet had entered, “shit.” breathing labored, unable to think. 

You looked down at him, breathing picking up, eyes wide. “One more.” You surprised even yourself. “Give me one more. Si, just one more.” You spoke, grinding your hips against his. 

He grunted your name, “I can’t.” 

“Yes, yes you can. Gimme one more. You’re such a good boy, Si. You can gimme one more, yeah?” You whined, resuming bouncing on his cock once more. 

Simon whimpered, “Please.” 

“Yeah, there it is. Look at you. Letting me use you like this. Fuck. So good for me, yeah?” 

You watched Simon’s eyes roll back in his head, mouth open just slightly, allowing all the little noises loose. The little moans, hiccups, and half whines. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t getting to you. 

“You’re so hot like this. Can’t shut you up, can I?” You spoke, hips faltering. 

Soft chants of please left Simon’s pretty pink lips, head rolling from side to side. He was a sight. “Gonna cum again for me, Si?” You taunted him. 

Simon hiccuped, and nodded furiously. His entire body tensed, letting out an absolute wrecked moan, you once again felt the warmth of his seed, which only triggered your own orgasm this time. 

Head thrown back, grinding your hips before slowing to a complete stop. Slowly you lifted yourself on your knees and climbed off him. Simon chuckled as you collapsed beside him. 

“That definitely was not expected.” You wheezed out, attempting to catch your breath. 

“What part?” Simon smirked, pulling his mask back down. 

“All of it.” You yawned, and curled into his side. 

“We can dissect it in the morning, get some rest.” Simon ran his hand along your back gently, and you fell asleep in no time.

[glitter-stained]

I’m trying to get a handle on Jason as a character. I got a great answer on Jason and Tim from @ultimate-marysue but they directed me to you as the Jason Todd expert. I’m wondering about Jason and Damian now. Do they interact at all in canon? Are they friendly/friends, typical brothers, enemies, or just acquaintances? Or do they just ignore each other?

I hope you can give me an answer. Thanks either way!

Oh goodness, that's because @ultimate-marysue is an absolute sweetheart but unfortunately my Jason knowledge is far from exhaustive, especially when it comes to Jason and Damian since some of their relationship happens in, um, unfortunate comics that are hard for me to get through (they probably say that because I study developmental psychopatholgy and do in-depth analysis about jason through that length rather than exhaustive lore-knowledge).

Sorry to toss you around like a pingpong ball, but I know @daisybell-on-a-carousel is currently trying to read through every single one of Jason's apparitions in comics (godspeed), so depending of where they're at in the comics they're definitely the one to ask for stuff like that in general. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who posts a lit of lore/meta about Damian and Jason's relationship, but I do know @spicy-apple-pie loves Damian a lot and does really sweet comics so idk if they can help you but at the very least if they can't you'll get to read some cute comics.

The little I know about Jason and Damian's relationship:

-Jason and Damian's first meeting, from what I've gathered, is either from Battle for the Cowl (brutally butchers Jason's character, my second least favourite ever if I could go back in time to stop Tony Daniel from writing it I would), in which Jason shoots Damian in the chest, or Morrison's Batman & Robin run (somehow even more hated by the fans than Daniel, Morrison has admitted later to just not liking Jason's character. According to a survey I'm running these two are in the top three of worst Jason writers, but Morrison has a bonus of also butchering Talia's character to an unfathomable level and I don't know if I like his Damian very much either.) in that run (which is Dickbats with robin!Damian) Jason is portrayed as the classic "crazy evil villain" bs and making Dick his sworn-enemy apparently (he's more of a plot device than anything imo). So, we're off to a great start.

-The issue is, with the reboot, I find it pretty hard to clarify for some events which ones are still canon or not. The current state of dc comics is pushing the batfam conception more than ever before, with Jason back in the family (something that vaguely happened off-screen in the n52) and neither jason, dick, tim, damian nor anybody else seems to reference or resent anything about that despite how cartoonishly evil jason was in those so I think it's implied that they're not canon anymore (and I hope they stay this way and buried under twenty layers of retcon). However I don't think I've heard or seen any mention of a different first meeting for them so there's this shadow area of yeah btfc and morrison's jason probably didn't happen but then what did?

-currently as I said dc (ie tom king amongst others) pushes for a very "classical family batfam vibe" so they're on panel/on missions together but i haven't heard of them having arcs together in mainline (people who know more than me please feel free to correct me in the notes, in general but also if there's more about this specifically). I'm getting "siblings that don't really like eachother but don't hate eachother either vibes", especially on Damian's part. It's really not the most developed relationship in the batfam, of that I'm sure.

-for many people I've seen that their favourite damian and jason comic is juni ba's boy wonder volume 2. It isn't canon in mainline (and not my favourite jason characterization tbh) but since the two of them don't seem to interact that much in canon and the story is pretty popular and feels kinda parallel-ish to canon I get why people would consider it their reference. Also it has pretty sick designs for the both of them which certainly doesn't hurt.

-in the young justice show, a brainwashed/brain damaged(?) Jason is shown holding a baby Damian in his arms. This has no incidence on any dc comics canon but is extremely cute and therefore worth mentioning.

[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. 

[mad-serotonin]

who are your top ten favorite black clover and ships? talk about them! (welcome back to the fandom, always loved your art)

I’m thinking you meant top 10 CHARACTERS and top 10 ships. Here’s the characters for now! I have another ask for ships and since that’s gonna take me a bit more time to really think about you’ll get those soon with that ask I promise!

My top 10:

1. Finral

Already talked about him in depth so I’ll let everyone else shine here lol

2. Magna

The manliest man. The actual best underdog character in Shonen. Like Tabata knew what he was doing during the Heart kingdom training arc. (Vague manga spoilers for spade arc) Having to work insanely hard to catch up to everyone when they can do something you can’t and finding a way to accomplish something no one else can do????? That’s such a real experience and he’s so admirable.

The literal best friend you could have in this world. He’s so silly and supportive and awesome. Design wise one of my fav character designs ever he’s so sick. I should probably make a solo post about him too cuz I could go deep into his character.

3. Rill

THE ARTIST’S BEST FRIEND!!!! I heart him so much and the approach to his upbringing was so beautiful. His destruction circling around a lack of direction and inspiration for his work is so insanely relatable. And just seeing him be so carefree and happy in battle creating art 😭 I wanna be him.

Winner for the Clover Kingdom’s best laugh. Cutest character design he is so fluffy and pastel. I want to see more of his magic it’s made some of the best battle scenes in the show with just how much freedom there is with its imagery.

He’s so baby I just love him. Also shout out to him for changing the squad name for azure deer from gray deer. I can’t remember if it was explicitly stated but I KNOW that he did that.

4. Asta

The boy of the hour. Honorary spot at #1 because he is the one of the most successfully written Shonen protagonists of his archetype. Really love taking the going for the top motivation and giving a depth to it outside of personal ambition and having the concentration be on changing the world for the better. The purest soul.

Asta is so important. He not only motivates and inspires EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. within the story. But also inspires so many people irl. Like i literally think “would this make Asta proud” when I do stuff sometimes JSJDHDDHHD and it motivates me to get through rough times.

He’s a cutie patootie and he breaks all expectations for what characters would typically do when faced with conflicts like he is. He truly is one of a kind and brings out the best in everyone.

I absolutely love the aspect of his character where he’s literally everyone’s lil brother. He just cares and trusts everyone on his team and fights for them SIMPLY because they are teammates no questions asked. Every time I rewatch the series I just admire the effect he has on their world and how it spreads one step at a time with each adventure. So many things wouldn’t have been possible without him being himself in situations and setting people straight in understanding their world. (This fact stands true even if not considering the anti magic as a factor. It’s all him baby.)

5. Langris

UGHHHHH I could write another essay but I shan’t. He is such a wonderfully complex character who has been so forcefully shaped into a figurehead of a group that represents strength, giving him such a terrible egotistical, yet self loathing view of himself. And despite all of it he genuinely wants to love and be loved outside of those factors. He’s just a very confused kid who needs genuine support instead of ego-feeding elitist parents HDHDHDH.

I’m very passionate about him. And I am SO PROUD of his character development through the story. Especially with his relationship with Finral. (I will for sure write a whole separate essay discussing them sometime soon). He was written so well both in his antagonistic position which in my eyes was very much mostly out of his control (not completely he’s not totally excused ✋🏻). Seeing him make genuine effort to change his outlook and behavior to rebuild a healthy sibling relationship, to support his brother and motivate him to improve himself as well, AND to remove himself from a position of high status when he knows he’s no longer the one suited for it really just proves how much he has grown. His complexity in his character just makes him so interesting and I want to see him and Finral team up more please I beg there was not enough. HAHSHSHS

6. Luck

I always loved Luck’s story and the exploration on his ability to express his emotions as time goes on is so good. Like the elf battle always makes me SOB he’s so good. I genuinely am obsessed with his friendship with Magna they are the best duo ever. He’s such a lil weirdo and his antics are just so perfectly lil brother energy to the rest of the squad. I will say Tabata had PEAK WRITING with his unwavering fear in battle that made the perfect set up for the seriousness of the Spade arc when they show him not wanting to fight ABSOLUTELY beautiful setup and reward right there. He’s a baby boy who doesn’t need to be protected but I want to anyways.

7. Klaus

OUR 👏🏻 KING 👏🏻 OF 👏🏻 CHARACTER 👏🏻 GROWTH👏🏻! Literally perfection how this man goes from prickly noble to Asta and Yuno’s number 1 fan. He has the perfect older brother energy and really became just an absolute sweetheart. I adore his support for Asta so much it always makes me laugh when they pan to him doing some weird stuff in hopes that it helps him out.

His magic is also so cool and damn I wish Tabata would give him some more badass spells because he could do SO MUCH. Give him a suit of magic armor mayhaps idk but it’s such a fun magic for him. Also design wise I love his hair and his features are just so pleasing. ESPECIALLY during the elf arc my god he looked like a model. I just think he’s very pretty HDHXHDHD. BUT YES an absolute king and deserves all the love.

8. Mars

Oooooo we need more of him in the manga. I swear the coolest dudes are underutilized this man is so sick. I love Mars’ story and I’m so glad that he reocurred in the story the way he did. He was really the perfect set up for the diamond kingdom being in the plot at all. But he himself. AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART he’s so good. He and Fana are precious together and I really admire his strength and commitment to his goals throughout his whole story. He had some of the coolest magic and I desperately need a Mars and Asta team up with their massive swords.

One of the best character designs from silhouette, outfit, colors and all. He is very handsome and just a cool dude overall. Y’all need to make more fan art of him I don’t see enough. I’ll make some too I promise.

9. Leopold

The king of not being in the story enough. For REAL he is so powerful and cool and he’s one of Asta’s rivals too I NEED a triple team up of him asta and yuno it would be FIRE absolute pun intended hehe

I love how straightforward he is, he’s so motivated and such a strong mage. I hope he gets to lead the crimson lions one day he absolutely deserves the position. He is the best friend of best friends. Being supportive of Asta from the start and being one of the least “noble” of all the other squads immediately solidified him as a favorite to me. And he just continued to kick butt and be a cool lad. His power is fun and I desperately wanna see him make full blown fire tornadoes NSHXHDH it would be SICK. but yeAH he is such an awesome character and a perfect rival and I think he deserves more screen time. I will for sure be drawing him again soon.

10. Yami

That’s our DAD 🫵🏻

God I will say this with all the confidence in the world he is the BEST WRITTEN DANG TEAM LEADER in Shonen. Like Tabata really said let this silly goofy man rescue all of these outcasts and be their dad and help them grow and I cannot handle any moment from any character without thinking about Yami’s influence. HE HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE.

The smartest idea ever translated from brain to paper was making this man a walking poop joke. LIKE INGENIOUS. I always find it funny and I always will. Make this absolute badass a true dad. He poop and he make bad joke. Honestly the funniest character.

His story from what I’ve gotten to is so interesting. It was so worth the wait to get to see more about him but even so his story just in the clover kingdom is so wonderful. I love how he really sets up the themes Asta stands for before he even gets to the squad. Where all of the change in the kingdom that happens wouldn’t have been done without him (a foreigner) and his whole team of unloved and unwanted individuals who were seen as worthless. Literally showing the world how wrong they are. Yami is best dad and he always will be.

Special shout out to William, Vanessa, and Gordon they deserve to be up here. Also David cuz I think he’s pretty and I love his magic but he is SO background character it hurts.

In the end I would have loved to talk about more of them but It’s hard picking favorites with this show. Literally everyone is written so well and I love them.

Thank you for the ask sorry if i went on a tangent a couple times LOL

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 12 thoughts

oh man. i think i’ve heard that this episode is a favorite among the fans. i also think that scully hooks up with a vampire in this one? because that got brought up in that one post i made about 3 a while back. curious to see if i misinterpreted that comment or if this is actually going to happen.

well! no time like now to find out!

the description mentions recounting their version of events… i LOVED that part of jose chung, so i really cannot wait to see what happens here :D

post episode note: not sure if there has ever been a lower words to "LMAOOO" ratio in my note taking history, so i will do my best to make this comprehensible, but i had so much fun watching this :D

man, i'll need to remake my top episodes list at some point... but it might stretch into top 20 or 25!!!

ohh, i wonder what the top 20 most beloved episodes by the whole fandom are...?

we begin with some very dramatic spooky music as this kid runs around in texas, calling for help, followed by someone who is very very fast!!! this guy is going to kill this poor kid!!!! why is he running into the woods??? not a great place to go when you need to escape someone!!!

bigger guy is on top of the little one and OH!! he shoves a stake through his heart!!

IT’S MULDER DOING THE STAKING??

scully finds him over the body of the dead kid… and the kid has fangs!!!! BUT THEY’RE FAKE!!!

DID MULDER JUST KILL THIS KID????????

WHAT THE FUUUCK?!?! WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE 

my face at this exact moment:😳😳😳

the intro was shortened... I ALWAYS NOTICE

okay, so now mulder is at his desk. scully walks in looking very very very tense. as if he just killed a child, perhaps. she carefully sits down. 

“mulder…” “don’t. don’t even start with me” LMAO WHAT??? she is gagged and also making the same face as me 😳😳

(i couldn't tell what the tone of this episode was at the time, but now that i think about "don't. don't even start with me" i am CACKLING)

he throws a paper into his garbage can, which is surrounded by other thrown papers, and then starts KICKING IT??? she’s watching with a very “wtf” expression going on 

IT’S TOO EARLY FOR ME TO FIGURE OUT THE TONE HERE, WTF 

he is defeating the evil of that trash can, though.

ohhh no, skinner wants their report in ONE HOUR!!! scully is trying to be very pragmatic here.

they both clarify that they are going to say exactly what they saw, but he says “i got to know if you’re going to back me up or what” because he’s the one that might be going to prison!!! no pressure. 

she adjusts her sitting position angrily: “first of all, if the family of ronnie strickland does indeed decide to sue the FBI for, i think the figure is $446 million, then you and i will most certainly be codefendants. and second of all… i don’t even HAVE a second of all, mulder” <- LMAOOO i’m HOWLING! SHE’S AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. JUST FILLED WITH FURY

“i’m in this as deep as you are, and i’m not even the one that overreacted!! i didn’t do the… with the thing!!” <- SHE CANNOT EVEN SAY IT, SHE CAN ONLY MAKE VAGUE GESTURES BAHAHAAA

he says that she needs to tell her story the way she saw it… and she replies that she doesn’t feel comfortable with that (queen of expressing boundaries!)

however, mulder counters that they’re facing the threat of prison, and that scully's cellmate will be named "large marge" and read lots of gertrude stein (oh god. that’s out of pocket, mulder!)

((this man makes far too many prison assault remarks. i understand that he is in a stressful situation. but still!))

he begins recording her version of the story…

“yesterday morning, when i arrived at work, you were… uh… characteristically exuberant” <- i’m crying, that is SUCH a perfect description of him. i have half a mind to change my url to that. but surely it has already been taken.

"HOPE YOU BROUGHT YOUR COWBOY BOOTS! YEEHAW", he says, slamming down plane tickets to texas on the desk <- LMAOOOOO she remembers him as a nonstop yapper, which is mostly accurate 

(absolutely crying at the yeehaw in retrospect)

he won’t shut up or let her talk, he's too locked into these images of dead cows LMAOO “is there any sign of-" “two small puncture wounds in the neck?” “that’s not what i was going to ask” “too bad, we’ve got ‘em” <- i am actually giggling at this. she sees him as constantly over-caffeinated, and i love that

NOT THE CHUPACABRA SLANDER LMAOO “no, they got four fangs, not two, and they suck goats, hence the name” <- YOU TELL HER MULDER ‼️

(that episode is one of the worst, so i think the combination of light acknowledgement of that fact and allowing mulder to flex his encyclopedic memory of cryptids with the manner of a child who got into way too much sugar is frankly iconic)

and he casually adds there is one dead human, prompting her outraged “well why the hell didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?” but he’s already out the door LMAOOO

okay, i cannot stop laughing even though this episode may be about mulder murdering a child. such is the nature of this TV program.

they’re going to investigate the body deep in the heart of texas… and is that romantic music playing when this sheriff hartwell enters??? and she remembers mulder SNAPPING at her while he introduces them as if he cannot remember her name!!

(as if mulder could forget her name... scully i'm calling your bias out there)

mulder tells her to "MOVE YOUR LITTLE LEGS" LMAOOO???

now the sheriff and her are very close as he eagerly agrees to all of her ideas (that the killer was not a real vampire, but someone so obsessed with vampire movies that he wished to emulate them) and mulder watches, suspiciously

LMAOOOO MULDER CALLS HER STORY OUT BACK IN THE PRESENT WHEN SHE SAYS THE SHERIFF USED HER NAME “dana?!?! he never even knew your first name!” (angry scully look) “you going to interrupt me, or what?” “no, go ahead… dana” 

(saw a post the other day that was like "they get to call each other dana or fox once each calendar year" and it's so true because it sounds so wrong when he says it in this context)

this point is where mulder makes his discovery: the dead man’s SHOES are UNTIED!

yeah, idk what that means either.

SHE KEEPS SMILING AT THIS SHERIFF HARTWELL LMAO. DOWN BAAAD.

mulder is pondering… “sheriff, do you have an old cemetery in town, off the beaten path, the creepier the better?”

it is so funny to think that all of these events are through the lens of scully's mind because she sees him as so fucking weird and spooky. both of which are true.

LMAOOO mulder says she must do a full autopsy! “what am i even looking for?” (he grabs her shoulders and leans in) “i don’t know”

LMAOOOO okay, so back before i even thought about watching this show, i saw that gifset on my main and i reblogged it with the caption “man. i’m going to have to watch this show, aren’t i?”, and here we are. so this feels very full circle to have finally seen it

poor scully has had an autopsy thrust upon her :(

scully is totally smitten with this guy though, oh my god…..

(i truly cannot figure out her type. mulder, jerse, esther, and this guy? what is the common ground?! between mulder and esther there was the whole "incredibly intelligent" thing, but the other two?? just like?? dark hair?? idk!)

autopsy time… she's talking into her little voice recorder about the dead man “who is arguably having a worse time in texas than i am. although not by much” LMAOOO

(i wonder if she really did get that candid in her recording, or if she is just being dramatic in her retelling of the tale. i assume she only records herself for the sake of writing the reports, so maybe she is free to say whatever it is that crosses her mind, in which case i would like to listen in)

NOOO, her blade falls out before she can begin and she sadly yeehaws 

(god. a sad scully yeehaw. i used to pray for days like these)

time to weight all the organs. UGH the intestines are all slippery!!!

he had pizza in his stomach. LMAO THE MUSHROOMS SOUND GOOD TO HER BAHAHA SHE IS SO STRANGE

back to the present moment- our agents can’t agree on the name of the motel they stayed in, which is not promising for the rest of their stories aligning 

you can put two quarters in the bed and make it jiggle? this is news to me! and this is just what scully does!

an angry and dirty mulder appears just as she begins this process!

ohhh, the dead guy had lots of sleeping drugs in his system… and her voice is all funny because she is jiggling while she says this… she thinks the “vampire” gave the guy the drugs. meanwhile, mulder is not elaborating on his very dirty appearance!

NOOOO there’s another dead tourist and she has to do another autopsy!!! “i just put money in the magic fingers :(“ AWWW POOR SCULLY 

(why couldn't that wait until tomorrow!?!!)

he says he won’t let it go to waste and IS HE GOING TO CLIMB IN ALL DIRTY??? LMAOO NOOOO

the subtitles point out that he is “laughing mischievously” which escalated to “cackling”… what is this man planning!!! he takes pleasure in dirtying her jiggling bed!!

(regardless of the accuracy of if it really happened in such a manner, it’s sad to see how taken advantage of scully feels by him 🙁)

she sadly leaves after telling him not to get mud everywhere 

NOOOO the pizza guy just got there :( BAHAHA she wanted pizza after autopsying that guy… well she is going to make “the guy in there” pay for it. serves him right!!!

OH! the pizza guy is the vampire kid!!!!!!!

she’s soooo sleepy as she does the second autopsy…. ANOTHER NASTY SLIPPERY LARGE INTESTINE

she is going to fall asleep like this!!!!!!

then she gets a phone call that is just heavy breathing. so she hangs tf up!!! 

this dead guy has pizza in him too!!!! OH.... she realizes the chloral hydrate must be in the pizza!! and it must be the pizza guy who is the killer!! and oh no, mulder!!!

scully bangs down the door to her motel room and mulder isn’t visible….  just the creepy pizza kid!!!! she fires a bunch of shots at him, but he runs away!!

so mulder was drugged… and he says some very weird stuff about "shaft" that i don’t wish to unpack. hearing of this makes present mulder gasp and exclaim “i did not!” and yeah, i don’t even want to know <3

(a lot of times i google stuff i don’t understand due to not being alive in the 90’s. this one? i shall not google it. i am not a fool. i recoginzed Enough of those words to know i don't need to know)

she missed the pizza kid with her first four shots which is rare for her, ran after him, leaving poor drugged mulder behind, but somehow, mulder caught the kid before she did, where he... “overreacted”

damn. he's a track star even when drugged.

she argues that they can tell skinner they caught a killer, and that mulder's zeal was due to the drugging, which i think is a fine story.

but mulder is pissed! “you are afraid to tell the truth. that’s not the way it happened at all!” OHHH, I CANNOT WAIT TO GET HIS VIEW

“yesterday morning began like any other morning; you arrived at the office, characteristically less than exuberant” LMAOOOOOO BE NICE TO HER!!!

he remembers his explanations being very slow and gentle and her reactions being very sassy AND I’M LAUGHING AT HER “AND?” LMAOOOOO

she’s just LOOKING AT HIM and he doesn’t know wtf to do BAHAHA AND HE IS SOOO CAREFUL TO USE “APPARENTLY” and “VAMPIRE-LIKE” IN HIS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE ATTACKS LMAOOOO

he ends his very cautious assessment that this attack was "vampire-like" in nature by telling her “but as always, i’m very eager to hear your opinion” <- THAT DID NOT HAPPEN YOU LYING BASTARD!! YOU HAVE NEVER SAID THAT ONCE LMAOOOO

“well it’s obviously not a vampire” “well, why not?” “because they don’t exist?” <- BAHAHA that is ANOTHER GIFSET I SAW BEFORE I DECIDED TO WATCH THIS SHOW!! oh man, so this one really must be a fan favorite if i saw two scenes from it before i even started watching 

“well… that’s one opinion, and i respect that” <- BAHAHAHAAAA YOU LIAR!!!

so they go down to the funeral home where he points out the plentiful caskets- unusual for such a small town. scully had tuned out at this point. and you know what? can you blame her?

HE REMEMBERS THE SHERIFF AS HAVING HUGE BUCK TEETH THAT MAKES HIM HARD TO UNDERSTAND which present scully DENIES bahaha ohhh he’s jealous and she is gaaazing at sheriff hartwell and smiling and oh my god, mulder is so jealous 

he’s monologing on the nature of vampires but scully shoots this down

“there are as many kinds of vampires as there are cultures that fear them” <- ohhh nerd. NERD!!! nerdy thing to say.

she’s yawning as he talks about red hair being an indication of vampirism, gesturing to her, which happened in an AU fic i actually did briefly read once and would like to see explored in greater detail. i'm a sucker for fic or art with the "skeptic is actually a monster" trope

he is now at the cemetery with the sheriff, whose country accent has increased greatly between the agent's perspectives

cemeteries are a haven for vampires, “as are castles, catacombs, and swamps”, mulder points out, and i'm writing that down ✍️ 

he remembers this sheriff as being incredibly stupid. ohhh, the pizza guy pulls up at the cemetery!!! he waves hello and then drives off.

so they staked out the cemetery. fun times.

she wants to know why he cared so much about the corpse’s shoelaces, but he just looks at his OWN shoes lmaooo and says he’s getting to it 

he was leaving sunflower seeds for the vampires at the cemetery, because all vampires are obsessive compulsive. they must untie knots and count seeds. which is why he thinks the shoelaces were untied. fascinating bit of vampire lore.

but they must go to the RV camp, where there is a situation. ronnie the pizza guy is here!! there’s an RV that’s spinning around. 

mulder doesn’t want to talk about shooting out the tires... what is this man HIDING!! 

well, it turns out it is very hard to shoot the tires of a moving RV... so HE GRABBED ON THE BACK AND WAS SPUN AROUND IN CIRCLES BAHAHA WHYYYYY WAS THAT HIS NEXT COURSE OF ACTION?!?!?

finally, they manage to stop the damn thing. and inside the RV was a dead guy!!!! with puncture marks on his neck and untied shoes!!! gasp!!

when he returns back to the motel, he remembers scully yelling at him because she has to do another autopsy, saying “i do it all for you, mulder!” (which is CRAZY!) and that she hasn’t eaten since 6 that morning, and she only had a bagel, and it wasn’t even REAL CREAM CHEESE!!!

listen!! can you blame her for being furious?? she just paid for the magic fingers!!!

he remembers her leaving as being a great relief, and her SLAMMING THE DOOR SO HARD THE PAINTING SHOOK ON THE WALL BAHAHAHA

aww, he sees himself as the poor little victim…. bro. you MAY have had it rough with getting dragged around by an RV, but in her defense 1. that was your faulty idea and 2. it probably was still not as bad as having to do 2 autopsies on an empty stomach

he goes to get in the shower. ohhh hello. that is a man who is emerging scantily clad.

now ronnie the pizza guy is here, and mulder is saying that he will pay for the tasty food. not knowing it contains the sleepy stuff!

he opens up the pizza and sighs with relief: “ah, scully” <- oh, so you think she has good taste in pizza toppings? that’s hilarious 

“so, i ate your dinner” <- okay, well at least he’s honest about that!! a grown man on the vibrating bed, noticing his shoes were untied…. and the drugging is taking place!! this is instant karma for such a pizza thief!!

he tries to call scully, but only groans into the phone…. then ronnie returns

BAHAHA he recalls scully calling the voice on the phone a creep <- well, you can’t really blame her!!!!!! 

ronnie is here, and his eyes glow and he has fangs… but the inebriated mulder manages to toss his sunflower seeds on the ground, thwarting ronnie the vampire slash pizza guy's plan!! which prompts him to say “aw man!” (LMAOOOOO) and then mulder's back out in sleepy land… 

when he comes to, scully is bursting in the door, and she shot ronnie TWO TIMES IN THE CHEST!!! to no effect!!!

scully is shocked at this recollection: “and then he sort of flew at me like a flying squirrel?” BAHAHA

so, she runs after ronnie into the woods, while mulder breaks a chair leg to make a stake… and bam. the "overreaction".

scully points out that no one will believe that story, but he says they will have to when they examine ronnie’s body

(i think it's very funny/sweet that scully does not remember being able to shoot ronnie, but mulder remembers her aim being perfect and that it was simply ineffective because you cannot kill vampires with bullets. not sure whose perspective is the objective truth, but it's adorable he remembers her being a great aim)

someone else is examining ronnie now. what shall he find??? bleh, he takes the stake out! nasty nasty!!! what if ronnie gets up and runs away??

OH RONNIE *IS* GETTING UP!!!! and his eyes are set on this coroner!!!! he attacks!!!

poor scully and mulder are waiting for skinner… she tries for fix his tie, but he shoos her away!!! so rude!!! there is no gesture more loving than the adjustment of a necktie!!

she asks him to keep reminding skinner that he was drugged, which ALSO pisses mulder off. BUT IS SHE WRONG??? IT WILL GO A LONG WAY!!

THEN WHEN SKINNER COMES IN HE STANDS STRAIGHT UP AND ANNOUNCES “I WAS DRUGGED” <- LMAOOOOOO

(i laughed so hard at this that i accidentally hit the pause button, and i’m looking at mulder's expression and scully watching him, and there are TEARS in my eyes)

skinner sighs deeply…. and says they have to go back to texas!! ronnie’s body is gone, and the coroner was attacked!! his throat was “sort of… gnawed on” LMAO?????

“but… he was dead” “i noticed that” (mulder is doing his slutty hands on hips while thinking pose)

so they’re back out to the yeehaw cemetery. why would a real vampire need fake fangs? well, mulder answers, the fangs of vampires are rarely mentioned in folklore!

“i think maybe you were right before when you said that this is just a guy who’s watched too many dracula movies. he just happens to be a real vampire” <- BAHAHAAAA I SMACKED MY CHEST I LAUGHED SO HARD AT THIS

scully sighs deeply. average scully reaction.

the sheriff pulls up!!! she turns to him and points at her teeth, indicating that to mulder that his teeth are NORMAL LMAO 

GASP... HE LEAVES AND SAYS THE SHERIFF SHOULD STAY WITH HER… THEN HE PUTS HIS HAND ON HER SHOULDER AND SAYS “don’t say i never did anything for you” OH MY GOD?

mulder was so jealous before and now he is leaving her with this man... what does this say about him!!!

he’s off to the RV park, and scully is here to share some coffee with this sheriff. 

woah, he asks her about vampires….. and she says they’re supposed to be charming and seductive, but who is to say if that is the case? after all, there are many kinds of vampires. wait. why did he say “yup, sure are” I DON’T LIKE THAT!!

HE APOLOGIZES FOR RONNIE AND SAYS HE MAKES US ALL LOOK BAD? “i mean, we pay taxes, we’re good neighbors” OMG LOOK AT HER FACE WHEN SHE REALIZES WHAT HE MEANS!?!

NOOO, SHE DRANK THE COFFEE HE GAVE HER, AND NOW SHE’S PASSING OUT!!! DON’T TOUCH HER, CREEPY SHERIFF MAN WITH NOW-GLOWING EYES!!!!!

mulder is at this RV park far away!!! run, run back to her!!!! she is going to be out of blood by the time you return!!!

he goes into the RV from earlier and finds more pizza… and a casket!!! with ronnie inside!!! listening to a walkman!!

he sits on his coffin as he reads ronnie his miranda rights…. but the whole RV park is full of vampires and they are coming to get him!!!

so he handcuffs the coffin shut, grabs some breadsticks, makes a crucifix, trying to repel them…. which is objectively hilarious... but they take him????? TO DO WHAT???

and he’s found the next morning with his feet out the window of a car. AND WHY IS SHE IN THE SHERIFF’S JACKET?? 

he checks her neck and his own for fang marks, but they don’t seem to have any. they just have no memories at all from the evening before!!! and every single RV is gone!!! and mulder's shoes are untied!!!

skinner is being told that the vampires simply disappeared

“and that’s exactly the way it happened, start to finish?”

(silence) “well, i can neither confirm nor deny agent mulder’s version of events, which occurred outside my presence” “and i can neither confirm nor deny agent scully’s version of events, but, um…” “anyway, i was drugged” (LMAO SCULLLLYY) “that is…. essentially, exactly the way it happened” “essentially”

we fade to black with this. (“except for the part about the buck teeth”, adds mulder)

LMAOOOO??? that was it??? 

no answer. no convictions. the vampires all just left. 

someone else recently pointed out that despite them never figuring out wtf happened on these cases, they somehow have the highest success rate at the FBI, and that is so funny because. by jove. the other FBI members must be terrible at their jobs.

okay, so i could not stop laughing during this episode, and the sheriff plot twist really surprised me. so she never actually *slept* with the vampire, she just had a little crush on him!!! therefore, i must have misinterpreted that comment someone made on my post waaayyy back in s2.

but he *did* drug her, and she woke up in his jacket, which has… implications, especially when we earlier opened with a prison assault joke. 

but. okay. maybe i’m just hyper-sensitive to these things and it didn’t intend to be interpreted that way. plus, mulder was drugged too, and also woke up with no memory of what went down. at least there's gender equality in that regard.

ohhh, mulder was jealous!!! they both think of the other as too harsh!!! it’s fascinating to see how they see each other!!! he thinks he’s this suave encyclopedia of vampire knowledge, and she thinks he’s the type of guy that slaps down plane tickets on the desk and says yeehaw!

she thinks she’s overworked and taken advantage of, and he thinks she’s overly negative and hates all of his theories and ideas!!!

oh, the joys and sorrows of being with someone 24/7. and yet. the absolute MINUTE she leaves for vacation. he’s blowing up her phone. bahahahaaaa. couple’s therapy now. 

i remember someone pointed out in 3x13 that it was almost like the writers were trying to prove why they would never make a good couple in the way they got along horrifically when mercury was in retrograde or whatnot. i feel like maybe the writers intended for that to happen again this episode, like they were pointing at them and saying "SEE? this is why they can't kiss! they get on each other's nerves!"

joke's on you, i love couples that annoy each other. so jot that down.

oh, it was a good episode. a nice little silly one. which we all deserved after last season, and frankly even after earlier in this season as well.

mulder: let her fix your tie >:(

[amhrosina]

I Wanna Love Me The Way That You Love Me

(Frank Castle x f!Reader) - Hurt/Comfort

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Summary: Frank uses a mirror to remind insecure!reader how beautiful she is. (In a fluffy and a smutty way!)

Warnings: reader is not very kind to herself, fluffy frank, like FLUFFY frank!!!!, super soft!boy frank, the softest of franks ive ever written, some body descriptions but I tried to keep it super vague, (later on) whew chile smuttttt, fingering, frank makes you watch yourself come in a mirror (lmfao), frank is sort of a dom but in the loosest sense, frank just loves reader so much!!!!!)

A/N - Thank you to @wheredidiputmyfish for being an absolute doll of a beta reader!!! I have a couple more Frank fics otw (i cant help it, i love that stupid man) and a poly!fratt x reader one hopefully soon after that!

You huffed as you pulled the green blouse over your head, annoyed that yet another online purchase didn’t fit right on your body. Just this week alone, you’d already made two trips to the post office, and Frank was bound to ask questions if you went for a third time so soon.  

You couldn’t even remember why you’d started buying nicer clothes to begin with, except that Karen always looked nice and Frank had been in love with her at one point, so why wouldn’t the same concept apply to you? The only problem was that you couldn’t seem to find anything that fit you correctly, and the idea that Frank might grow bored with your everyday attire kept you up at night. And of course, Frank had never actually said anything about your clothing choice – this was just the overthinking part of your brain going into overdrive. 

You flopped onto the mattress, shoving your face into your palms and groaning. You couldn’t figure out exactly what Frank saw in you, and it was hard not to compare yourself to his late wife or Karen. They were both beautiful women – definitely Frank’s type – and that was not exactly how you’d describe yourself. The thought of it brought tears to your eyes again. You quickly blinked them away when you heard the front door shut. 

You joined Frank in the living room, where he was removing his boots. You threw the package you needed to return on the table by the door, and though you tried to do this casually, Frank noticed it and your expression immediately. 

“You sendin’ care packages to some other boyfriend or somethin’?” He teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You giggled. “No. It’s just another return.” 

“Not that I’m not supporting this new wardrobe thing,” he started, eyeing the package by the door, “but why are you returnin’ everything you buy?” 

You shrugged. “It just doesn’t fit right.”  

“I bet you look great.” 

“I don’t think so.” You shrugged again, avoiding his eyes as you stepped into the kitchen. 

“Sweetheart.” He followed you into the kitchen, though it was clear he was struggling to figure out how to broach the topic. “Is everything okay? You’re talkin’ down about yourself again.” 

Your smile faltered slightly. “I’m fine.”  

“Baby,” Frank wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your chest into his, “You’re not fine. You wanna know how I know that?” 

You remained silent, avoiding eye contact, but nodded. 

“Because you won’t look at me.” You lifted your chin and stared into his warm gaze out of spite. “And because I know you and I love you, I know that you start avoiding me when you feel bad because you think I’m going to miraculously start to hate you and leave.” 

You didn’t respond, instead gnawing on your cheek and curling into yourself. Frank’s hold around your waist remained steady, and as you tried to look away from his meaningful gaze, his hand gripped your chin and held it steady, too.  

“You’re beautiful, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I love you no matter what you do or wear or say. You’re beautiful.”  

You tried to push away from Frank, suddenly aware that you hadn’t fixed your makeup or hair that morning. He was lying. He had to be lying, right? No one thought that about you, least of all Fra- 

“Don’t.” Frank was gentle in his coaxing, running his knuckle over your cheekbone in a soothing pattern while pressing his fingers into the small of your back. “Don’t do that to yourself. I love you. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You have to trust me.” 

You fiddled with your fingers, wringing them together in an uneasy gesture, unsure of what to say. He gently grasped them and pulled them into his chest, cradling them as he held your gaze.  

“Come with me. I wanna show you somethin’.” He murmured, tilting his head toward the bedroom.  

You followed close behind him, curiosity outshining your desire to crawl into bed and never get out. He led you to a stop in front of the full-length mirror, resting his hands on your shoulders behind you. A clear and decisive frown formed on your face. The last thing you wanted to do was look at yourself. 

“What do you see?” he asked, holding your gaze through the mirror. 

“What?” You furrowed your brow. 

“What do you see, sweetheart? Be honest.” he asked again, patting your shoulders encouragingly. 

“Well, um,” you breathed, starting at the top of your head and making your way down with your observations, “I see dull hair, bags under my eyes, and a nose that’s too big. My shoulders are broad, my hips are too wide, my skin looks lifeless, and I’m wondering why you ever gave me the time of day and why you stay with me when there are so many people out there that would look better standing next to you.” 

Frank stayed quiet throughout your assessment, expression turning grave as you brought up your deepest insecurities about yourself. He let you finish your observations before pressing a long kiss to your head. 

“Now ask me what I see.” he prompted. Confusion overcame your features again, but he silenced your doubts with an encouraging nod.  

“What do you see, Frankie?” You quietly asked, unsure if you really wanted to hear what he had to say. 

He brought his finger to your face, tracing each element as he pointed them out in the mirror. 

“I see a pair of beautiful eyes and a perfect nose. I see the most sensual lips I’ve ever felt pressed against my mouth. I see a beautiful, strong body that can handle anything thrown its way. Remember when you had to carry me from the living room to the bedroom after I passed out? That shit was impressive, sweetheart.” A soft smile rested on his face as he continued. He folded his arms around your middle and pulled your body against his. “I see hands that hold my entire heart in them, and a body that has all my love. You’re beautiful, baby, and I love you so much. Every piece of you.” 

You tried to blink away the tears that clouded your vision, but Frank’s speech combined with his gentle touch and open expression sent a wave of tears down your face. You curled into his hold, turning so you could bury your face in his chest. He cradled you against him while you cried, pressing soft kisses to your hair every few minutes until you were calm enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. 

He swiped his thumbs through the tears that had gathered under your eyes. “Are you okay?”  

You nodded, blinking up at him. “Thank you. I love you,” you murmured. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, which had always been his way of showing love. “Anytime, sweetheart. You hear me? Anytime.” 

- 

Bonus Scene: In which Frank comforts you in the bedroom later. 

“Frank, what are you doing?”  

Your tone was a mixture of confusion and curiosity, combined with the lazy haze that had taken over your body for the time being. Frank had jumped up from his relaxed position between your legs, where he’d licked up every bit of your desire after making you see stars, and had begun fiddling with the floor length mirror across the bedroom. 

“Hang on.” He called over his shoulder, tugging the heavy glass across the carpet. 

“Why are you moving the mirror?”  

“Wanna try somethin’.” 

He stepped back, looking between your slick, bare skin and the mirror with a smug expression. You were now face to face with your reflection, and as soon as you realized Frank's plan, a string of fire worked its way directly to your core.  

“Wanna show you how perfect you are.” He crawled on the bed behind you, settling himself before tugging your body back against his. Both sets of eyes, yours and Franks, were focused on you, and boy were you a sight to behold.  

Your limbs, still shaky from your first orgasm were splayed out, giving both you and Frank the perfect view of your glistening cunt, which was busy clenching around air as Frank worked his needy fingers down your skin. 

“Shit, baby. You look fuckin’ perfect like this.” He breathed. The proximity of his warmth to your ear sent a wave of goosebumps down your body, and you had to fight the urge to clench your legs together. “Look at how beautiful you are, sweet thing.” He murmured, holding his gaze on the treasure between your legs. 

You looked, fully looked, and felt heat crawling up your neck as his sensuous fingers swiped through your arousal. A low groan emanated from his throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from circling your clit. You watched as a moan left your mouth, your back slightly arching against Frank’s chest.  

“You see how perfect you are, sweet girl?” He cooed, circling your clit again. “Your pretty pussy drives me crazy.” 

His other hand began to rub your nipple in light circles, and if that weren’t enough to have you gasping for air, the touch of his lips to the spot below your ear was. You squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back against Frank’s shoulder. His fingers halted – no, everything halted – and the whine that came from his sudden stoppage wasn’t entirely a conscious decision of yours. 

“You stop looking, I stop moving, sweetheart. You got that? Keep your eyes open.” he asked, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His gaze held no room for negotiation, so you shyly nodded before returning your gaze to your body. His focus remained on your flushed face, panting as he worked you closer to another orgasm.  

You could see what he was talking about. For the first time in a long time, the girl that looked back in the mirror wasn’t someone you shied away from. She was beautiful, and confident, and sensual, and she looked good next to Frank.  

“You look stunning, baby.” He murmured. 

“I know.” You responded, briefly lifting your eyes to his before returning them to his fingers. His winning smile was priceless – wide and open and beautiful, and you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. 

Light twinkled in your eyes as he inched you closer and closer to your release, and as soon as you locked eyes with Frank again, you were a goner. 

Frank worked his fingers around your clit, coaxing out one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever experienced. It washed over you in waves of fire, and it was a struggle to keep your eyes open for it, but you were glad he had asked you to, because you looked glorious coming around his fingers. 

You panted, body gleaming with sweat. Your heartbeat finally slowed as you leaned against Frank for support. He ran soothing hands over your limbs, massaging feeling back into them and kissing every inch of skin that he could reach in the process. The silence as you returned to your body was long, but comfortable, and when you finally had full use of your limbs again, you pulled Frank’s arms around you.  

He kissed your hair, resting his cheek on your head. 

“Do you see what I see now?” he asked, glancing at you through the mirror. You nodded, carefully lifting your chin so you could look at him – the real him – to respond.  

“I love you.”  

He grinned, leaning down and planting a sloppy kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, sweet girl.”

-

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @megmastersgf

[ruporas]

apologies if you've already been asked this but do you have any favorite trigun fics? i absolutely adore your art btw!

thank you!!! and i've answered this on insta, but i don't think i've ever shared on tumblr... i'm not good at reading fics, esp long ones, because my attention span is pretty bad, but from the ones i have bookmarked, i'll share some that i like in no particular order

hills like white elephants (meet me halfway) - adlvnam

pairing: vashwood word count: 1.1k, sfw, vague post v.10 spoilers ‘I read a story once,’ Vash says, unsure. ‘I’m kind of thinking about it right now.’

i like a lot of adlvnam's fics, i find them very unique and creative in their execution, and their writing is wonderful! this was the first fic i've read from them and it's stuck with me ever since. others that i like from them are in manus tuas (no spoilers) and vox dei (warning for post vol.10 spoilers).

stay - Anonymous

pairing: vashwood word count: 2.3k, sfw, no spoilers “Hold up,” Vash groans. He presses his free hand to Wolfwood’s mouth and shushes him. He’s probably going for a stern look, though between his poor attempts to stop grinning like the biggest idiot this side of the planet and the way he’s patting him, it’s hard to take him seriously. “Stop laughin’. Where’s the keys?” “What keys?” Wolfwood tries to ask, muffled by Vash’s hand, and his tongue is a little thick and slow in his mouth so… something comes out, but it’s probably not very wordy. Word-like. Not a sentence, probably. (or, wolfwood and vash get drunk, bicker, and then share a bed together.)

i enjoyed the mundanity and silliness of this fic and i think about it from time to time... i think fics where one of them or both drink together are pleasant to read.

Last Summer - varilien

pairing: vashwood word count: 741, sfw, no spoilers You are what you love.

tags on this one are "sunrises, morning routines, coffee, sentimental" which caught my attention. very sweet and beautiful.

Rain - Kokohamstar

pairing: none, wolfwood centric word count: 768, sfw, major spoilers - post v.10 Ever since he was a little kid listening to Bible stories, he dreamed of the day the world would be washed clean and wondered what the rain would feel like on his face.

as most wolfwood centric fics, it was a gutpunch and melancholic, but still soooo.. augh.... the last paragraph really does it for me.

water bucket blues - fathomfive

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.7k, sfw, major spoilers, post trimax Vash the Stampede goes on the record about a friend he once had. Also about card games, cats, family, and some other things. "Start with a piece of the whole, Meryl said. It doesn’t have to be the first piece. Start with a specific. That’s what they mean when they throw around the words human interest. I know the pieces. Believing they make a whole is another thing. But she’s a broadcast professional and I trust her advice. Maybe if I can figure out how to tell one piece—like the story of Wolfwood as I knew him—I can learn how to tell the others."

i love vash pov fics and i love it when it's first person and this one in particular hits because it's his pov and he speaks, honestly, openly, telling a tale that he can't really flub because it's about the people he loved. i love how grounded this fic is in the present of max, i love how vash grows within the 3.7k words, i love how he moves forward with the world he's living in. this fic makes me teary if i think too much about it... it's really wonderful.

it’s a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world - goldenglitz

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.9k, nsfw, no spoilers Vash has the lung capacity of a man who’s cried for 150 years. It isn't like Wolfwood takes more than he gives — but like with most things, he barely keeps up with Vash. He works his body to the limit, even as his lungs burn and his legs and arms give out under him. They fuck like they’re on borrowed time. All of this makes it so easy — so much easier than just talking. Wolfwood would sometimes rather pull new and interesting noises from Vash with just his mouth than do anything else with it. Their own dialect: moans, groans, and four words. “Yes” — “Please” — “Vash” — “Wolfwood.”

i love all of their vashwood fics, they only have 3 but they're all lovely and has a sort of characterization to both vash and wolfwood i don't see often. definitely one of my faves, especially when it comes to explicit vw fics.

i think these are all the ones i'll share for now!!

[babytarttdoodoo]

not sure if u do ship prompts so feel free to ignore this 💕 but maybe something where royjamie are caught making out by the himbos and there is much teasing. flustered jamie is a bonus. but honestly you could literally write anything and i’d read it💕💕

I absolutely do! Hope it’s to your liking 🙂 (I accidentally let some feelings get in here. Oops.)

Roy/Jamie, post-canon

Song rec: Do Ya

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

-

“We’re at work.” Roy reminded Jamie lightly, not sounding nearly as annoyed as he wanted to be. It was hard when he had a lapful of gorgeous, handsy footballer.

“Training’s over.” Jamie countered, eagerly pressing Roy back into his chair, one knee propped on the seat between his legs and arms braced to stop him from rolling away. “Plus, it’s your birthday, you grumpy twat. Let me kiss you.”

“That’s the rule, is it?” Roy fought the grin trying to break free. He wasn’t very successful.

Jamie hummed an affirmative, eyes bright and smile wide, before leaning in to seal their lips together. He licked into Roy’s mouth with another happy sound, deep in his throat, when he was met with equal enthusiasm.

Despite his reservations about location, Roy would never actually be able to turn down being kissed by Jamie Fucking Tartt.

He did cut it short, though, when Jamie moved his hands up to Roy’s face and, without his grip as an anchor, the wheeled chair scooted back with wild momentum. To his credit, Jamie still tried to follow him but promptly sent a stapler to the floor with a loud clatter in his haste.

“Alright, alright.” Roy broke away with a placating hand to Jamie’s chest, breathing hard and glad he was wearing his loose tracksuit bottoms. He glanced at the closed blinds of his office. “Not fucking here. Anyone could come in.”

“Part of the fun, innit?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows but relented and straightened up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of golden skin. Roy’s eyes followed the movement of their own accord and he licked his still slick lips, only half aware that he was doing so.

Jamie, on the other hand, clearly knew exactly what he was doing and smirked like the little prick he was.

“Y’know, I were the last in the gym. No one in the locker room when I came through. Haven’t seen the lads in, like, 20 minutes.”

Fuck. It was tempting.

Roy reached out and gripped Jamie’s waist, tugging him in. He came happily but pouted when Roy just used him as leverage to stand. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“Sorry, coach, but you knew that already.” Jamie grinned, no hint of remorse.

“My fucking fault, then?” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned in for another brief press of lips, forcibly keeping it chaste. It was ridiculous, how quickly Jamie could rile him up. “Suppose that means I’m taking you back to mine.”

Jamie’s face lit up. “You’re leaving early?” he confirmed, clearly delighted.

“Not going to get anything else done, now, am I?” Roy sighed, digging his thumbs pointedly into Jamie’s hips.

Jamie laughed and pulled him towards the door.

“I promise to be the sexiest little present you could ever unwrap to make up for it.”

“Is that right?”

Jamie stuck out his tongue cheekily and Roy couldn’t help himself. He wound one arm tightly around Jamie’s waist, the other hand going to the back of his head so he could hold him close and put that tongue to better use.

It was intoxicating, getting to have this after thinking about it for so long. He was only vaguely aware that they were still moving.

One of Jamie’s hands flailed around until he found the door handle, grabbing both it and the front of Roy’s shirt to manoeuvre them through the entryway without needing to break contact.

He was clearly eager to get them home. Roy was enjoying this moment just fine, though, and pinned Jamie against the now open doorframe. He pushed up against him and tugged on his hair as he deepened the kiss even further.

Jamie’s answering moan cut off midway, morphing into an urgent, distressed sound. He batted at Roy’s chest and he pulled back immediately, concern like a wash of ice in his gut.

Too much? Too aggressive? This was still so fucking new.

“What’s wrong?”

Jamie had gone pale, eyes fixed to his right. Oh no. Roy followed his gaze reluctantly, a growing sense of dread making each second stretch.

The whole team. The whole fucking team. Plus Keeley. And Rebecca. Oh, fuck, the Diamond Dogs too.

All of them, gathered together in the locker room, seemingly frozen in the act of lighting candles on a black-frosted birthday cake.

Shit shit shit.

“Uh.” A grunt was all he could manage. Unfortunately, a quick glance at Jamie confirmed that he was in no state to talk them out of this either.

The moment stretched.

“Surprise?” Keeley finally ventured, voice high and breathy. She shimmied her hands and it broke the spell.

Rebecca broke into loud, unrestrained laughter. A few others joined in, more still shouting over each other in a sudden explosion of sound. The words Roy managed to make out amidst the cacophony seemed split between declarations of being proven right, or complaints that this was why surprise parties were stupid.

No one looked angry. Trent Crimm looked entirely too fucking smug. But there wasn’t a trace of disgust or outrage on any face that Roy could see.

A weight he hadn’t really been brave enough to acknowledge floated right off his shoulders.

Reassured that they weren’t about to have to fight for their jobs, Roy turned his attention back to Jamie, who had startled when the noise started up and still had a vice grip on the front of Roy’s shirt.

He wasn’t pale now, a flush painting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. His eyes were darting around, looking, Roy knew, for the same signs of rejection he had.

��Oi.” Roy squeezed his wrist gently. Jamie jumped again and snatched back his hands at the reminder of their proximity. He met Roy’s eyes though, a tremulous, hopeless smile in place.

Before either of them could say anything, Isaac’s booming voice cut through the room.

“Is this what all that ‘extra training’ was about?”

“Eh, no!” Jamie shot back, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Look at me, you think you put on this kind of muscle in the bedroom?”

“Depends how you’re doing it.” Jan offered, which was a mildly terrifying train of thought Roy was not going to pursue.

“I can’t believe neither of you told me!” That was Keeley, somehow managing to look elated and put out at the same time.

“We haven’t told anyone.” Jamie whined. “Haven’t even told me mum yet. She’s never gonna forgive me.”

“I’m sure introducing her to Roy Kent will help smooth that over.” Rebecca said, eyes still bright with laughter and smirk firmly in place as she gave Roy the once over.

“I’ve already met her,” he snapped, the attention grating at him. “And it’s fucking new, alright? We didn’t need you lot sticking your noses in, and we still fucking don’t.”

There were a few grumbles but his typical Kentian reaction seemed to calm the rabble a bit.

“Question?” Sam raised a hand politely. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

“About a month, I think.” Roy did a double-take and stared at Will, who had just cheerfully chipped in that (accurate) information from the corner.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jamie covered his face with his hands. “Boot room?”

“Boot room.” Will confirmed sagely and Roy just knew his own face was turning red now.

“Boot room?” Trent sounded even more smug than he looked. Roy growled at him.

He was quickly distracted, however, when he noticed cash changing hands among the players and - in a mortifying twist of events - Higgins.

“You had a fucking betting pool?” Jamie’s voice rose in pitch and volume, incredulous and offended. “I were over here, having a crisis about a crush on our manager and you were betting on it?”

He was looking specifically at Colin and Dani, who both shrugged.

“It was not a crush.” Dani argued. “You’ve been head over heels for years. It just took you longer than everyone else to realise it.”

“Look at it this way.” Colin continued, blithely accepting a wad of notes from Richard. “At least we were confident it was going to happen.”

Jamie glowered and threw up his hands.

“I regret everything. I never should have fucking come out to you lot. You- Wait a minute.” He stopped mid-rant, blinking at the all but forgotten cake. “Did you all plan a surprise party for Roy and not invite me?!”

A few people did at least have the grace to wince at that.

“Thing is, babe,” Keeley started gently. “You tell Roy everything.”

“Kind of ruins the ‘surprise’ part.” Moe agreed. “We figured you’d be with him, anyway. You usually are.”

“Which makes all the sense in the world, now.” Trent observed and didn’t cower nearly enough under Roy’s vicious glare.

Jamie pouted, tucking his hands into the ends of his sleeves. “Don’t tell him everything.” he objected petulantly. “I can keep a secret.”

“We know.” Sam sidled a bit closer, smile genuine and voice cajoling. “The point is, we didn’t want you to have to. Even if it’s a nice thing, it can be hard to keep something from someone you, ah…”

He trailed off, glancing between the two of them.

“Care about.”

That was oddly touching, Roy thought, but Jamie still looked on the verge of being genuinely upset. This wasn’t when or how they’d talked about telling people.

“Right.” He clapped his hands together, bringing all the eyes in the room back to himself. “If it’s my fucking party, then what I say goes. First off, no one breathes a word about this outside of the people in this room.”

He glared around, making sure the gravity of that statement set in. There wasn’t as much fear as there might have been a year ago but he thought there was a tad more respect, at least.

“Second, we’re going to cut the fucking cake now. I will blow out a single candle. No bloody singing.”

A round of nodding. More than they’d expected, probably.

“And third.” He slipped his hand into Jamie’s, easing his fingers out of their grip on his shirt’s fabric with the movement. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking catcall, innuendo or double entendre when we leave together, got it? Today or any other day.”

The team especially looked disappointed but enough of them seemed to have taken notice of Jamie’s defensive posture that there wasn’t too much outcry. Keeley raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, hoping his blush had died down.

“Glad we’re all on the same page. Now get to it.”

A hubbub of activity took over again as everyone returned to what they had been doing when Roy and Jamie unexpectedly burst into their party preparations. Music started up from someone’s phone and the sound of a champagne bottle being opened triggered a bunch of cheers.

Jamie shuffled in close again.

“Thanks.” he said quietly, swinging their joined hands a little. “You didn’t have to.”

“They’re a bunch of muppets.” Roy told him. “But no one here’s out to get us. It’s not… I know it’s not what we talked about but. It’s okay, right?”

Jamie nodded, chewing his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, course it is.” He huffed. “Can’t believe those two just made a mint off of me misery.”

“Misery?”

Jamie turned a little pink again and knocked his hip against Roy’s. “Got drunk at the end of season party last year. Ended up spilling my guts to Dani about how I felt about you. He roped in Colin to deal with the whole bisexuality thing, and both of them were sworn to secrecy.”

It pained Roy a little bit, to think of Jamie pining unhappily while he was still getting his head on straight. Or not straight, as it were.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make them pay for it.” Roy offered and Jamie’s expression cleared. He narrowed his eyes at the lads in question and hummed.

That didn’t bode well for them.

“And, since it’s a special occasion, I won’t mind you having a drink and a bit of cake.”

Jamie properly brightened at that and (quickly, shyly) kissed Roy’s cheek. It was so much more innocent than what they’d been doing just a few minutes ago but it threatened to make Roy weak at the knees.

He shoved at Jamie playfully and he grinned as he moved away and let himself be absorbed into the throng of people. Sam slung an arm around his shoulders immediately.

Beard sidled up into the now vacant space next to Roy.

“I’m going to tell Ted,” he informed him, sounding almost apologetic. Almost.

Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But if he sends me anything with rainbows on it, you’ll be the one fucking burning it.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 36 - Resurface

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Previous chapter

A kind of a build-up chapter for Virgil, because he’s decided to be brave and face something but that comes at a cost because I am incapable of letting them be fixed first time around. I also had to apply some very very minor whump to Scott just because it amuses me so to do and he was RIGHT THERE being a doofus and asking for it.

Hesitating to put this one out because there is so much good fic that’s appeared over the last week and I haven’t read it all yet but… I think if I don’t get this one out of draft mode I’m never going to properly focus on the finale chapter and I really need to get that done so I can finally post the art a fabulous someone did for me four months ago when I last thought I was nearly finished 🫣😬🙄

SO… here we go…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil’s studio was recessed into the cliff which meant it was protected from the elements. It was accessible only via his bedroom and a key coded door meant it was protected…ish from marauding younger brothers.

Although a huge picture window dominated one wall, very useful for those sky paintings, this could and often would be shuttered at the press of the button, transforming the room into a haven over which he had unfettered dominion.

Advanced atmospheric regulation meant he could ensure the air it wasn’t too arid for sculpting or too damp to allow a painting to dry. An objectively impressive array of light fixtures popped out at various levels, the angle and tone of each completely customisable at the flick of a slider (or twelve) on his tablet, meant he had absolute control of what bounced off his surroundings into his eyeballs. And the sound system…

Well.

What would be the point of a soundproof room if you couldn’t occasionally crank it up to symphony orchestra brass section volume. Virgil had played the French horn in high school and fully appreciated the sensation of his ribcage vibrating when the trombones sat behind him got into their groove.

He was safe here.

And yet, he couldn’t settle. Everything felt, off. Scratchy. As if sand had got into a sensitive mechanism and no amount of oil would flush it out again.

Virgil tucked the sketchbook under his arm and got up to adjust the brightness of the overhead spots down a little and nudged the temperature control up another increment. He’d been fiddling with it all morning but couldn’t quite find the precise balance he needed. Turning his back on the easel stool, he sat down heavily on the couch, removed a pencil from behind his ear and glared at the page.

He’d thought it might be a good idea to sketch out a few anatomical poses to build the detail on top of… to save Scott having to hang around while he got the basics done. Despite having shut himself in here all morning, he’d barely got beyond sketching a vaguely humanoid shape. Perhaps he’d got a little more fixated on the angle of an arm than strictly necessary… in fact he’d roughed it out in so many positions his graphite brother was giving off distinctly octopoid vibes.

The real one had been popping in and out all morning, providing coffee and snacks and unspoken reassurance but now was Here and Getting Ready and Virgil was also supposed to be Ready do some Healing. Find Some Closure. Desensitisation. All that healthy stuff. He tried to ignore the creeping doubt as to whether he was, or would ever, in fact, be ready to…

“Can I make a suggestion?”

He jumped a little and dropped his pencil as Scott called out from behind Virgil’s bedroom door. He put the book to one side and crawled under his chair to locate it.

“Virg?” The door opened and he could imagine Scott peering around it, with all the darkness creeping up his neck and around his throat… his heart raced and his breath escaped in a tiny squeak.

Uuuuh… he wasn’t ready. Not ready at all. Maybe he never would be. Maybe this was… maybe he was just…

“Virgil, are you alright?”

Realising he’d frozen with his upper body wedged under the couch and that Scott was inevitably now aiming the Concerned Eyebrows at his behind, Virgil forced out an airy “All good, I just dropped my… my… err…” he huffed a fake laugh to cover up the gap. Stifled the panicky breathing… the word had gone. Just gone. He spread his fingers out, feeling the grain of the wood beneath him, sanded almost-but-not-quite smooth, and focussed on drowning out the whistle in his ears with an inane little tune Gordon was humming earlier. This was transient…

“Pen. I mean pencil. Pencil!!”

The floorboards vibrated a little as knees slid into view just beside him. Navy blue knees. No, not navy. Shade 1620 “Airforce Blue” - he had a tube of it on the easel. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hex 00308F. Several paint tubes, just in case. And some inks. Zero zero three zero eight eff. Navy blue was 000080. The three and the F somehow changed everything.

A hand on his shoulder, unnaturally tentative as they all still were around him. Still. He scrunched his eyes still tighter and tried not to let it bother him, he wasn’t the type to be bitter about being ‘Poor Fragile Virgil best-not-surprise-him-lest-he-freak-out-and-see-things-again…’ ok, he was still a little bitter perhaps. And being not very kind to himself either. He’d tell Scott off for that.

Scott…

He pressed his fingertips into the floor just enough to stop them shaking, just enough to hurt. As his neck and shoulders tensed in sympathy he felt his brother’s arms curl around him, holding him steady, keeping him from bumping his head on the wooden frame. Holding him steady, keeping him from sinking through the floor into who knew where… he dragged in a breath, cursing his vocal chords for the little whine that caused.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

“Pencil.”

The harmonic skitter of light wood rolling over heavy before the pencil was nudged up close to his hand and he grasped it like a lifeline.

He couldn’t open his eyes, not yet. He was terrified he wouldn’t be able to trust what he saw if he did.

He could feel Scott breathe, the weight of his arm. He could hear the repeated “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Yet both those senses had betrayed him before too. Only one had not. It had never lied to him, but, quiet and unshowy, it was easier to ignore if the others told him a better story.

Right now, the impersonal fog of the dry cleaning spray Grandma had used almost overwhelmed him. It was a white noise.

A grey noise?

He reached past the grey for something familiar, something safe - something to prove this wasn’t hollow. There was the ever-present scent of coffee on his brother’s breath and the subtle hint of super-shiny gel… no, he corrected himself, he’d upgraded to the pricier ‘sublime shiny’ recently… which he swore was better despite Virgil pointing out the identical ingredients, smell and, even taste… alright he might have taken the debate a little too far but when Scott had poked his tongue out at him Virgil hadn’t been able to resist giving him a sample. For science’s sake.

The look on his brother’s face had been spectacular.

He chuckled and a little of the dread melted away.

He still needed to sneak some down to Brains’ lab to run a chemical analysis actually…

“Virg? You with me, short stu…OOOFFF”

Scott had clearly ducked his head under the couch to try to see what was going on and the resulting clunk demonstrating he’d immediately forgotten that he’d done so vibrated through Virgil’s teeth.

“Scott! Your head!”

“Is fine. Thick skull, remember?”

“The thickest.” Eyes still resolutely closed, Virgil assessed his tone. It was light, but not the too-light tone Scott adopted when trying to conceal an actual injury from a brother… There was more than a hint of worry, obviously, which Virgil needed to Do Something About because he was painfully aware it was him causing it.

“Virgil, are you ok? What do you need?”

“I’m ok. I… yeah. I’m good.” He was. He could do this.

“Alright.” The audible skepticism was perhaps justified but Scott had clearly decided to let him call the shots today.

“I’m not criticising your process here but would it be easier to do the arting somewhere other than under the couch.”

Virgil grunted, which was frankly all the response the question deserved. Then, eyes tight shut he shuffled backwards. The sensitive skin just below the edge of his little finger brushed against Scott’s leg and he shivered as he recognised the fabric. Polywool. Strong but soft. Permanent military creases. More capable of withstanding a worried brother knee-sliding across a wooden floor than the string of ludicrously expensive but patently unScott-proof suit pants that the CEO wore to TI meetings and managed to destroy on a regular basis. But not robust enough for any kind of action. This was dress uniform. Just for show. He’d never have got in a jet wearing it.

But without it he’d never have got in that jet…

The voice of dread in his heart hissed at him. Virgil tried to squash it, but the edges were sharp and tried to steal his breath. He could feel his pulse begin to race again, echoing back through the thumb-tips he had pressed so firmly into the floor. No, that wouldn’t work. He knew this. He knew how to deal with this now. The hand on his shoulder tightened infinitesimally, lending him strength. So, he forced himself to take a slower breath and let himself acknowledge the thought. It was a logical fallacy, he knew that, but as the counsellor had advised he resisted the temptation to be angry with himself for thinking it. He could see where it came from. It wasn’t unreasonable or stupid for his subconscious to reach for something, anything to blame. It just wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t true.

What was true?

He’d come back. Scott had come back. He was here right now, humming Mom’s song as he rested his head on top of Virgil’s and stroked his arm.

Virgil opened his eyes. Brown floor. Black pencil. 1620... Scott’s legs. He raised his head a little, braced for the darkness…

Light blue?

Light blue shirt? Airforce shirt, yes, but not what he was expecting.

Scott interpreted his frown of confusion before he realised he’d formed it.

“I was going to suggest maybe I don’t wear the jacket just yet? I could, I dunno, just hold it or something. Till you’re used to it?”

Virgil realised he wasn’t blinking enough and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets for a moment.

“Right. I… yes. I’m sorry I…” he huffed irritably “This is so ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder again. “And you told me not to say things like that.”

Virgil swallowed the impulse to point out that for Scott it was different. Maybe, after all, it wasn’t so different. In the absence of anything constructive to say he removed his hands from his face and made an attempt at a reassuring smile. It was going quite well until his eye was caught by a rush of movement as the hastily slung jacket slithered off the back of a chair and curled into a pile of darkness on the floor. He averted his eyes and returned his attention to his brother’s face.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Here, Virgil drew a blank. Beyond his request to paint Scott wearing the dreaded dress uniform, he was surprisingly unsure about what he wanted to do. He hadn’t got much past the idea to get himself, Scott and The Uniform in the same room and not go mad.

As the heap of fabric continued to noisily suck all the light from the room, he wasn’t sure the latter part was going as planned.

“I don’t… I don’t actually err…” he tailed off but the point had been conveyed.

Scott hummed again, but not in a musical way this time. That was the ‘IR-Commander-is-formulating-a-plan’ hmmmmm.

“We have all day... no need to rush anything. Do you want to go outside for a bit? It’s really nice out there?”

Outside was Scott’s go-to fix. If things were difficult, he did better in the open air… or at least somewhere with a clear view of the sky. Virgil suspected he knew why and tried not to think about that too much. What he did know was that it was when his brother tucked himself away - when he found a hidey hole, enclosed and dark - well that was when little brother’s alarm bell needed to ring. Outside was good.

Yet, Virgil knew Scott hadn’t suggested it for his own benefit this time. It wasn’t for the air but for the sun.

Virgil’s comfort instinct was more towards warmth. The flannel wasn’t purely a fashion choice after all. It didn’t matter where he was - snuggled in bed, melting his face off in the sauna, taking an excessively long hot shower, hibernating on a sun lounger - it was all good as long as the goosebumps were kept at bay. Gordon had long ago given up trying to persuade him to lower the cabin temperature of Two. If Virgil’s skin was warm and relaxed he had at least a chance of thinking clearly about everything else.

Outside in the sunshine sounded good. It had a decent chance of being better than here anyway, in the bowels of the earth where the darkness was closing in and an icy draft scraped across his face.

So Virgil nodded and allowed his big brother to steer him towards the doorway. Where he stood helplessly for a few moments as he realised the hand with which he’d reached for the handle was a white knuckled fist clutching a pencil for dear life… and he didn’t quite seem to know how to put it down. He shivered again.

Scott rushed around behind him, chattering away and collecting whoknewwhat, then took charge of the door-opening and, taking a firm grip on Virgil’s pencil-free hand, towed him up the stairs and out into the daylight.

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[fluentmoviequoter]

hii i love ur work smm!! is it okay if i can request a dalton lambert + prompt 11? “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

I LOVE UR DALTON IMAGINES/ONESHOTS WHATEVERR <333

Thank you so much!!! I appreciate your kind words and am so happy to hear that you love my Dalton fics! Thanks your reading and this request!

I got two requests for this prompt and actually had two ideas (which are both equally flirty and domestic), so I'm posting both. Read the ice cream date version here.

Warnings: fluffy and flirty, very brief/vague mention of insecurities. 0.4k+ words

A/N: We need more Dalton gifs. I've used this one already, but it's the only one that fits the 'fluffy' bill.

Join the 100 Follower Celebration!

Prompt 11: "You're lucky you're hot."

“Absolutely not,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Please,” Dalton drags out, putting on his best puppy dog eyes as he asks again.

“I am not letting you draw me. Especially not when you’re going to show it to your entire class.”

“But the whole point of the assignment is to focus on something we love, and I have an idea that is sure to get me an A!”

“Your grade is fine.”

Dalton huffs a sigh and collapses against his bed. “I thought I was loved, and now I must question everything.”'

“I know you’re an artist, but you don’t have to be quite so melodramatic.”

Dalton remains silent, and you consider his request. He begins tracing shapes against your hand as he lies beside you. Glancing at him, you realize how much he loves you, and you love him, and decide.

“Fine,” you say quietly. “You can draw me, but I have to approve it before you turn it in.”

“I love you so much,” he exclaims as he kisses you on his way to get his sketchpad and pencils.

“You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I’m what?” Dalton asks, stopping as he reaches for a pencil.

“Lucky you’re hot. I wouldn’t let many people do this.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, Dalton. You’re losing your chance.”

Dalton nods as he finishes gathering his things, then pulls his chair to sit across from you. He tells you to move and do whatever you want while he draws. You start stiff, but as Dalton comments and compliments you repeatedly, you begin to loosen up. When you realize you feel comfortable, Dalton announces that he’s done.

“Let me see,” you demand, reaching out.

“Nope. Answer my question,” Dalton responds, twisting so you cannot reach the sketch.

“If I think you’re hot? Of course, I do, Dalton. You’re the cutest, handsomest, hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” you answer honestly.

“That’s the only reason you let me draw you?”

You stand from the bed and take the sketch from him, placing it on his desk without looking at it. Lowering yourself into his lap, you set your hands on his shoulders while he holds your hips.

“No. I agreed because of everything in here,” you say, touching Dalton's forehead, “and here,” his heart.

“Oh.”

You lower your chin and kiss him, sighing as his hands pull you closer and he deepens the kiss.

“I let you draw me,” you begin as you pull back, leaning your forehead against his, “because I love you, and I know that you love me. You show me in everything you say and do. I appreciate you wanting to draw me.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

“Anytime. Can I see it now, since you’re still hot?”

“Only if you kiss me like that again.” You stand from his lap, and he grabs your hand, keeping you close as he adds, “And you’re the hot one, ask the picture.”

[reality-warp]

Hi Rella. Super super longtime reader and lurker. Thank you so much for the recent updates - I’m so in awe with your ability to write the battle scenes. Given how difficult they are, I honestly think they may be some of your best work - thank god we’re back to some dialogue though 😂 Anyway, I was wondering if you have time if I could please ask a few questions while you’re in the RB universe:

1) Way back when in LM, it felt like the acorn might become an important symbol for Eleanor and Legolas - is that still the case?

2) I remember you sharing the following quote on your tumblr page years and years ago: “It is true, you are not demure, passive, or submissive by any stretch of the imagination. But I have no need nor desire for a demure, passive women at my side. Pray the day never comes, but if I were ever to assume rule in my father’s stead, I would need more than just a loving wife and friend. I’d need one who I both love and trust to share in my burdens and responsibilities, as well as trust with my heart. One who knows me, both the good and the bad, and will not shy away from either. And one who I can rely on to tell me bluntly when I am being an insufferably, prideful fool.” (I had to dig deep into the tumblr archives for this one!)

Will we get the chance to see this in CM, or will this follow in the third book?

3) Final question, I think I read that you are a big planner when it comes to writing. Does that mean you have much of the third book planned out or will you be seeing where the writing takes you?

Thanks again for the updates (and everything, frankly).

Hello longtime reader and lurker, you are very much welcome! I also just want to say thanks so much for your compliments around battle and fight scenes specifically. I think I’ve shared in author notes before that they’re one of the trickiest things I find to write (at least compared to dialog). So to hear that you find them some of my best work is so deeply rewarding. <3

In answer to your three questions:

1) Oh yes, the acorn mentioned in LM is absolutely going to be an important symbol for E&L. Just wait until the next chapter is up to see what comes of that (hopefully soon, as at 11,000 word I’m about 85% done with it now). 2) That line of dialog has been saved in my notes for a looong time, and I’ve known for almost as long exactly where it happens in the story, right down to the conversations that trigger it. Unfortunately it’s not going to be in CM (a few more things need to happen to get there) but it will be about midway through the third book. 3) You’re correct, I’m absolutely a planner when it comes to writing, even for short pieces. I’ve tried pantsing before when it comes to writing, but it’s never worked well for me. I had almost all of RB planned out in broad strokes by the time I was at chapter 6 of LM, but I deliberately left some things vague just to see where they went (a lot of the relationship development with the Fellowship, minor characters, and the romance between E&L for example). I had all the key story beats and revelations in CM planned shortly before finishing LM, and as of Boxing Day just gone (2024) I now have all of the third book properly outlined too. I’ve also taken a lot of the notes and dialog I’ve had prepped for years and put them into order in the draft doc that will eventually become the next book. So if we’re being pedantic; technically I have both the third book fully outlined as well as about 8,000 words of the narrative already down on paper.

Thanks so much for such an insightful set of questions, and for reading and enjoying this fic for so long. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around how beloved it’s become to some folks, especially when I started it so long ago when I feel like my writing style was far less developed. 

I really hope you enjoy the next chapter (24) once it’s finally done and posted. 

Much love,

Rella x

[skyloftian-nutcase]

So I’m kinda curious, I know you said you are not much of a shipping person (aside from like SkSw Zelink and Miphlink) but are there any of the popular ships that stand out either as ones you think are cute or ones you really do not like?

Hmmm 🤔 I’m fairly neutral or just meh about most, but I guess there are a few that stand out? Or maybe I should just list my opinions on the major ones I know of?

BotW Zelink - I don’t mind it post Calamity. Not really into it pre-calamity, it feels like it’s at the expense of a relationship that’s already there (Mipha and Link). But dang the two definitely would be close after the calamity, given that they’re the only ones who have such a shared experience. I could see it being romantic or platonic, and there’s kind of a heavy leaning towards romantic but then totk also makes it seem platonic sometimes too?? Whatever. Nintendo likes to be vague (except Skyward Sword, let’s be real, nothing about that was vague lol), but I can see it happening after everything.

Midlink - I think it’s sweet. I think in canon Link’s most likely gonna either be with Ilia or someone we don’t even see in the game as he travels, but Midna definitely could’ve had a chance with him if there’d been more time for them. They had good chemistry, and the physical attraction was clearly there when Link saw her true form.

OoT Zelink - Nope. Especially Adult Timeline, absolutely not. It’s a pet peeve of mine that people ship this Link with anyone in the Adult Timeline - he is a child in a teenager’s body. NO. Sure, his body might be attracted to people, but his brain sure ain’t figuring it out, and anybody who wants to explore that just… no. NO. As for Child Timeline, I feel like this Link has a hard time reconciling what happened, has a hard time letting go, and would therefore have a really difficult time separating Child Timeline Zelda from Adult Timeline Zelda and that would lead to too many mixed feelings. I can’t see them getting together. This ship is either entirely one sided (I can 100% see Adult Timeline Zelda romanticizing the Hero she’s been waiting for before she really realizes that he’s still a kid, if she ever realizes it) or nonexistent.

Malink - I quite like it. I honestly didn’t really see it in the game, there’s like… enough for it to happen, I guess, but admittedly Linked Universe has made me biased. But given that it’s heavily implied TP Link and OoT Link are related, and TP Link knows Epona’s song, and Malon was a friend of Link’s, and she talks of marrying a knight in shining armor, and Shade is a knight in shining armor… I can put two and two together. And I think they’d be cute together.

Sidlink - Just… why. I get that half the fandom is in love with Sidon, so they project that, but good grief. Link was engaged to his sister. That’s some Hamlet level incest nonsense there. Link may not remember Mipha all that well but Sidon freaking does. Just because the dude is ridiculously sweet and supportive to literally everyone and about literally everything doesn’t mean he’s romantically inclined towards everyone. He’s a golden retriever, there are two brain cells firing between those fins, let the man just be happy and vibe, good grief. I had this opinion before totk came out, and then the addition of Yona made me laugh because I knew the fandom would blow up about it, but she’s honestly really sweet and good for him - I loved when she called him out to help him, she’s a good wife, I like her 😤

Uh… I think those are all the popular ships I have any kind of actual opinions about? Aside from Skyward Sword Zelink and Miphlink, love them both, mwuah. The rest I’m just meh. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Honestly, I’m very inclined to say that just because two people share oxygen together doesn’t mean they’re gonna fall in love. Just because two people might have some chemistry doesn’t mean they’re gonna fall in love. And just because two hormonal teenagers think each other is hot does not mean they’re gonna end up together. But since romance is such a huge thing in fandoms and in our culture, and I am very much not in a romantic relationship and therefore the culture makes me feel like my life is incomplete, I am not very inclined to get into shipping all that much (translation: sometimes shipping is downright annoying to me, and I hate it when fandoms ship characters together just because they like each other as if other relationships can’t even exist or be meaningful), even the ones that I love. My biggest weakness is loving families, though, so that’s usually where I cheat lol.

[electric-lavender]

i must admit that turnabout intruder is one of my problematic faves too.

if you feel like elaborating, i’d love to hear your takes!!

I would absolutely love to elaborate! To preface this I’m exceptionally bad at writing out my thoughts so apologies if this is a little all over the place. Also this got way longer than I expected and I still don’t feel like I covered all my thoughts so sorry for the super long reply.

The tl;dr is that I think the episode is trying to show us, in Star Trek’s exaggerated way, that experiencing misogyny and internalizing is bad and that is the fault of the how society treats women and not, you know, women.

I’ve only seen the episode once so I think I definitely need to watch it again to fully sort out my thoughts. For some context I recently did a full tos watch, I mostly watch tng as a kid and a few random tos eps, and as I was making my way through I thought a lot about how the like for what makes something socially progressive shifts over time. There are a lot of episodes and themes that we have to look at through the culture context of the late sixties.

That being said I think one of the places tos, and basically every other show, really falls short is how it understands and represents gender. For me this is most clear in how every alien has the same understanding of sex and gender as humans but that is for a separate rant. This is about gender by way of misogyny. So without further ado here is my defense of turnabout intruder.

Before I watched turnabout intruder my understanding of it was that it was bad in the not well written way and bad in the misogynistic way. I think it’s important to know that I do not think this episode is free of misogyny, few tos episodes are, but I think if we all up on our critical thinking caps we can see that there is *gestures vaguely* something worth talking about.

When I finally watched it I was expecting it to be much more misogynistic than it was so I really psyched myself up, but I genuinely don’t think it makes it on my top three most misogynistic tos episodes. The only part that really made me cringe was when Scotty is talking to Bones about how he’s never seen Kirk so hysterical. I think that the use of the word hysterical is totally unnecessary to what Scotty is saying and only serves to make that line overtly misogynistic.

I think the thing that makes me not label Janice’s who character as just a poorly hysterical woman who’s purpose in the narrative is to remind us that women aren’t fit to lead because of emotions or whatever is that, at least to me, she seems more complex than that. The thing that leads me to believe that the writers had some idea what they were doing is how Janice clearly has the most intense case of internalized misogyny I may have ever seen.

The episode doesn’t want us to come away from it believing women aren’t fit to lead because they’re emotional. It want us to understand that misogyny is so poisonous that a lifetime of experiencing it can drive you to hate yourself so much that, in the case of Janice you would do nothing short of murder to escape it.

I was going to add a bit at the end about Kirk as a victim of abuse but I can’t organize my thoughts about that very well right now. Other people have written much more eloquent post about this, but I’ll say that the thing that stuck with me is that his masculinity is never brought into question. No one on the ship thinks less of him because a woman hurt him and I think, although it’s not the focus of the episode, it’s something that’s important to mention.

I have somehow managed to leave out all of my transgender thoughts from this so perhaps if I have the energy for that at some point I will make a part two with that.