Juli (she/they) | 24 ♒️ | queer 🏳️🌈 | bi and byelingual mess 🩷💜💙 | i like to write ✒️ | Ao3: JuLeia | "i wanna be good, life's just not letting me" | multifandom (mainly GG & Arcane, list coming soon) and still trying to figure out tumblr, pls be patient with me
✧ Fandoms: Gilmore Girls, Arcane, Stranger Things, Life is Strange, Supernatural, Tales of Series (JRPG), Persona, Final Fantasy, some manga & anime, DnD, Sailor Moon, a lot of things ✨️ will mostly post abt GG tho (probably)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Tag Info ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
In case you want to mute or follow certain topics! Mute #(fandom) if you don't want to see my reblogs of a specific fandom.
♡ #gilmore ramble 》 gilmore girls analysis, takes, opinions, headcanons etc.
♡ #juli reblogs art 》 art reblogs, also off topic or different fandoms
♡ #juli rambles off topic 》 personal stuff, (tag) games, nothing fandom-related
♡ #julis writing 》 my writing works
...updated regularly!
✧ OTPs: Literati (Jess x Rory), CaitVi, AmberPrice (Chloe Price x Rachel Amber, LiS), Byler (Will Byers x Mike Wheeler)
♡》》 -> probably a lot more that I can't remember that will show up sometime
✧ Music: Bring Me The Horizon, Paramore, Metal(core) & Alternative Rock, Taylor Swift and the pop girlies
✧ Likes: writing (fanfiction, poetry, in general), reading, sometimes i draw, DMing my homebrew campaign, coffeeeee <33, chocolate
✧ Dislikes: don't support JKR, Neil Gaiman or Rammstein pls
Hey !! I just wanted to request a Harrington!reader x Robin fic where he catches Robin and reader flirting and kissing and reader freaks out thinking he will be homophobic and disgusted by her, little does she know Steve is fully accepting. angst/comfort, thank you !! ❤️
The Harrington Trap (Request)
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Pairing: Reader (f) / Robin Buckley
Other Relationships: Reader (Steve's younger sister) & Steve Harrington, Robin & Steve
Characters: Reader (Steve's younger sister), Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Mention of Dustin Henderson
Tags: Angst / Comfort, Sibling Relationship, Self-Insert, Kissing, Scared of Homophobia, Coming out and Acceptance, Reader x Character (F/F)
Rating: T
2,733 words
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
You are a Harrington. High School is a playing field for you, and you came here to win.
All the boys love you. All the girls envy you.
Unlucky for you, you know it’s all a facade.
When you meet Robin Buckley, sparks fly. You keep your dating a secret, until one day, your brother Steve shows up at Robin’s house unannounced. Your life as you know it is over.
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
“Why did no one tell me about this? My sister Robin, really?”
“I thought you’d be angry and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was stupid I know, but we were just getting to know each other and I swear I would’ve told you eventually, sometime, when I was sure. I mean when we were sure—”
Robin stopped, her gaze darting to you, but she saw nothing but a puzzled face, a deep panic, and then you interrupted her.
“Steve, I swear it’s not what it looked like—”
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Notes: Thank you so much for your request! This was my first take at a request, and it was super fun to write. I love Robin and Steve so much and I'm glad you gave me this opportunity and idea to write about them for a while. I really hope you're happy with the outcome~
Want to request something from me?
Click here for more info.
Reblogs are always appreciated if you liked this story! :)
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
It had started in Middle School.
Fleeting glances, pink blushes, shivers down your spine. In gym class, you started changing in the bathroom. Once a month, you forgot your gym clothes at home.
You couldn’t swim, you were too afraid of the water, you told the teachers.
When your friends started talking about their crushes, you made an internal list of who was the most popular boy, and you picked him, each time. You gushed about platitudes, hair and strong muscles, everything you’d read in magazines.
Everything to not stand out.
You were a Harrington, after all.
You were born to fit in. To be popular.
When Steve started bringing in one girl after the other when your parents weren’t at home, you hid downstairs. You had heard his girlfriend moaning one single time in your room next to his, and you swore you could never take it again. It took you weeks to calm down. So now you hid in front of the TV, safe in inaudible distance. Downstairs, everyone was fully clothed and decent.
A year after him, you brought home your first boy. He was a basketball player, second best in the team, of course.
You fought with Steve after. Although nothing of note happened — you couldn’t take the musky smell and the rough lips of this guy — Steve almost killed him. You wished nothing more than to send him away anyway, but he made a big deal of it, and he ridiculed the poor guy at school, long after you stopped talking to him at all.
Steve had influence like that. The girls adored him, the boys respected him, and you were right there with him, getting on everyone’s good side, befriending the most popular people, joining the cheer squad. You were good. You were happy.
Guys chased you, and you turned them away. Your reputation spread, and soon everyone wanted to get with you. It helped you immensely. You just had to make them believe that any of the guys would even have a chance, when they most definitely, absolutely didn’t, as you one day realized in horror.
It was during a game your junior year when you noticed an unfamiliar pair of eyes glued to you. You were used to be watched, everyone adored you after all, but it was gazes of envy you were used to, and of lusty gross boys.
But she, she looked at you like you were precious. Like she was curious. Like she couldn’t look anywhere else but you. But when you looked back, she looked away.
And oh, you knew the feeling so well.
She played the trumpet in band. You never talked to anyone from band outside of class. Cool people were in sports, and so were you. You didn’t even have classes together. She was older than you, Steve’s age, a senior.
It was in the bathroom where you first talked to her.
You were just entering the girl’s room, when she barged out of a stall and almost hit your nose with the door, hadn’t you jumped back and squealed.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands before her mouth in shock, her eyes widened. You had to breathe a few times to recover from the shock.
“Are you okay?” she asked and scanned you head to toe. She lingered. Too long.
You cleared your throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You dusted off your mini skirt even though it was perfectly straight and clean, but you needed something to do. “I sounded like a little girl,” you added under your breath, mortified.
She grinned. “Only a little. It was c— cool.” She corrected herself mid-word, and she held her breath. You met her scared gaze for a second, before she replaced it with another grin.
You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Sure.” You rolled your eyes, and moved towards the sinks, splashed cold water in your face. Calm down. You could feel her presence still behind you, she was fidgeting, nervous.
You’d watched her often during games, so you knew she was always on her toes. She talked to her band mates a lot. Once you left for coach’s fetch quest, returned about ten minutes later and still found her telling the same story, gesticulating wildly, excitement engraved in her face. You remembered wishing you could have listened to what she had to tell.
“You’re Y/N, right? Harrington?”
You held eye contact through the mirror in front of you, and you nodded.
“Robin,” she said. “I don’t think we ever see each other outside of games.”
“We don’t,” you said, drying your face with a paper towel. You knew it was best to look away now. To leave. If you were anything like your cheerleader friends, you would. It’s what you learned to do from them. How to survive High School, 101. Stay away from the uncool kids.
But your heart had other plans. It started picking up pace, and fearing the treacherous color of your face, you faced down, splashing more cold water.
Robin just watched. You prayed for her to go away. But neither of you did.
“You want to…change that?” you heard yourself say suddenly, facing the sink. Your breath stopped. Seconds passed. It was fine. It was fine. You didn’t say anything stupid. She could think you wanted to be friends.
When you looked up, it was Robin instead who turned pink.
Robin and you started talking after school. You had invited her to get coffee, somewhere at the edge of Hawkins, not so many high school frequenters. She invited you to a movie, and you had the best talk of your life after.
When you weren’t with her, each time you found yourself wishing she was there. Each time you passed each other in the hallway, and each time you saw each other during games, you wanted to run to her, tell her about your day or the new music you’d found. But you didn’t. You agreed to leave it at after-school hangouts only.
You were too scared of what the others would see.
Would they see how Robin brushed your hand ever so slightly, how she touched you more often than she needed to? Watch you as you stared in each other’s eyes like they were gates to another universe? You couldn’t hold any of that back. So you couldn’t be seen.
It was Robin’s idea to go to her place one day.
Her parents were out of town, and she didn’t have any siblings, so you would be alone.
Alone.
You trembled at the thought.
Robin had picked up a dozen movies from the video rental store, and had spread them out on the floor of her room. You were sitting across from each other, eyeing the selection.
“This is impossible,” you said, defeated, falling back on the soft fabric of her carpet.
You could hear and feel her move, and soon she had crawled over to where you were spread out on the floor, her face above yours. She was crouched next to your torso, her short hair falling in her face. She nudged your side with her hand, and you squealed, ticklish.
Her face lit up. “There it is!” she exclaimed.
“No fair,” you complained, “I said I was embarrassed last time.”
Robin’s face turned more earnest. She hesitated. “Are you still?”
You locked eyes.
“Embarrassed?” She spoke softly, intentionally.
You held your breath and shook your head, slowly.
It all happened so fast, then.
As Robin was leaning down to you, you were pushing yourself off the ground, and your lips met in the middle. You held on to her for dear life, crossed your arms behind her neck, still leaning somewhere in between laying and sitting. She held your back, supported you, kept you from falling.
She was so intoxicating. Robin smelled warm — like the beach on a mild day, gentle and comforting. Her lips were the softest thing you ever touched, her embrace felt like a safe shelter, like home. You could feel all your muscles relax and all your senses attune to this moment, to her and her alone. Everything else seemed so pointless now.
Until you heard the muffled sound of a familiar voice.
“What the fuck?”
Robin spun her head so quickly you barely realized what happened. Despite the urgency, she still held on to you, not letting you fall, until you found yourself back in the present. Enough to move, enough to take in the surroundings of Robin’s room. There, pressing his face against the window, you saw him.
Your brother.
You sat up quickly, and pushed yourself off the ground, eyes wide. Robin was faster, she hauled towards the window, and slid it open.
“What are you doing here?” Robin’s voice trembled.
Steve climbed through the first floor windowsill, almost hitting his head in the process. You were standing bolt upright, mouth agape in shock, and your eyes darted from Robin towards your brother and back, not even comprehending to see them in the same room, in Robin’s room.
“S-Steve,” you stuttered. He stared at you, indecipherable look. At Robin, he looked angry, and she seemed to shrink a little, shoulders slouching, face cringing.
You swore your legs would give in at any moment, your heart would jump out of your chest and helplessly race in a puddle of blood on the floor, all alone. Ruined. Over. That was it.
The face Steve made looked just like when he kicked your first “boyfriend” **out.
“I swear, I can explain,” Robin took a step towards him, but he raised a finger as if to tell her to stop, but then he directed all his attention away from you toward Robin. His back was now to you, and you frowned.
A stupid thought, delayed by the panic formed in your mind: Why was your brother here?
“Why did no one tell me about this? My sister Robin, really?”
“I thought you’d be angry and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was stupid I know, but we were just getting to know each other and I swear I would’ve told you eventually, sometime, when I was sure. I mean when we were sure—”
Robin stopped, her gaze darting to you, but she saw nothing but a puzzled face, a deep panic, and then you interrupted her.
“Steve, I swear it’s not what it looked like—”
He turned towards you. He scoffed. Then pointed at Robin, angry. “So you weren’t sucking my fucking baby sister’s face just now, I just imagined it?”
Robin cringed. “N—No, you didn’t.”
Your heartbeat exploded. “Yes!” You corrected, “Yes, you did, we were just—”
“Y/N, it’s okay.” But Robin’s calmer voice got swallowed by your own fear.
“I just asked her to practice. I have this crush, and he told me I’m a bad kisser, so I asked Robin to help. It was silly, I shouldn’t have—”
“Y/N, stop.” Robin tried again.
“I would never just kiss a girl without a reason, why would I?”
Robin was suddenly in front of you, holding you by the sides of your upper arms, and she moved her head so you were forced to look into her eyes. They were so calm, suddenly, and she smiled.
You realized you were trembling all over.
“Stop,” she said, softly.
You looked into her eyes a little longer, soaked up the calm like a sponge. But it made the confusion resurface, and looking for an explanation, you searched for your brother.
You found Steve walking towards the both of you. The anger had faded from his face, he was still frowning but now he looked sad. Heartbroken. His eyes were glistening.
Robin and him exchanged a knowing glance and she stepped back, making room, as Steve suddenly moved to pull you into his arms and squeeze you tight. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he hugged you often, but it felt particularly warm now, like an apology. Like a safe place.
When he stepped away, you were frowning deeply.
“I— I don’t understand,” you said, fighting for words.
“He knows,” Robin just said, and she smiled at Steve, whose expression suddenly changed to glare at her, and she flinched.
“I thought you just caught us—”
“I know about Robin, Y/N.”
“You two know each other?”
They shrugged, and then, like a secret code, a shared mystery, they grinned widely at each other.
“Sorry for not telling you,” Robin said. “But yeah, I know it sounds strange, but we’re friends.”
“Were,” Steve cautioned her. “Until you decided it was a good idea to snatch my sister behind my back, Buckley. She is way too young for your dirty ass mind.”
Robin rolled her eyes.
But then Steve smiled at you, and he lifted his arm to ruffle your hair, destroying your perfectly combed ponytail. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. It’s cool.”
You blinked. And felt the faintest feeling of water rising in your eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” you said. And you collapsed to the floor, crouched on your knees, like a wet sack devoid of strength. Steve sat down near you, on Robin’s bed. She just watched the both of you.
Steve groaned, but it sounded relaxed, playful. “I should have known, honestly. That boy was disgusting, and you never touched another one again.”
Robin laughed.
You scoffed. How could he have known you better than even you?
“Thanks for scaring the hell out of me,” you nudged his leg in an attempt to punch him, but your arms were weak from all the trembling, and it was barely a graze.
“Steve, why did you come here though?” Robin asked.
That seemed to shake him awake a little, and he looked like he had forgotten something, suddenly.
“Right,” he said, and stood, facing Robin, “you need to come with me.” His voice had a serious tone like you’d rarely heard from him before.
Robin looked like she knew without any further explanation. She sighed.
Then she sat with you, took your hand. “I’m so sorry to leave you standing in the rain like this, but we have to leave.”
“Both of you? Why?”
They exchanged glances. “Hard to explain, but, uh—” she squeezed your hand. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? I promise. We’re good, right?”
You nodded, slowly, confused.
She got up, and you followed her, and before you really registered you all were leaving her house.
“I’ll take you home,” Steve said, the keys to his beloved car dangling as he pulled them out his pockets.
You tried to get in the back seat after Robin, but Steve held the door shut in front of you. “I can’t take this shit in my car, not yet, people.”
You felt your cheeks flush, and scurried for the front seat.
“Why can’t I come with?” You asked as Steve started the motor, and headed for your house a few streets away.
No one answered your question, not really. They were dodging it, saying they can’t tell you now, maybe later, that it was all a little complicated. Nothing major though, really. Robin rambled, none of the words she was saying made you any wiser until you reached the Harrington house, and before it stood two kids you recognized from school. A boy with dark curls, carrying some sort of technical equipment, sprinted for the car when Steve pulled into the driveway.
“What is going—”
“Hurry up, we don’t have any time to lose,” the boys tore open the car’s back door, and Robin made room for them and their equipment to sit, while you were just sitting there, blinking.
Robin reached for your hand and squeezed it. She gave you a weak smile. “See you later?”
You nodded, slowly. Looking for Steve, he nudged his head towards the door, needing you to leave.
“Give me a heads up next time, you two. Please.” He then said to you and Robin.
You got out of the car, hesitantly.
Robin waved to you as they drove off.
You didn’t sleep the whole night. Steve only came back early in the morning, cuts and bruises on his face.
But he hugged you as you went downstairs to greet him, and you knew that whatever crazy things could happen, your brother would always be there to have your back.
When your friends started talking about their crushes, you made an internal list of who was the most popular boy, and you picked him, each time. You gushed about platitudes, hair and strong muscles, everything you’d read in magazines.
I feel called out LMAOAOAOO It truly is the universal canon experience, huh? OTL I swear sometimes I thought everyone was just playing pretend. Like no way everyone actually thinks this random boy is cute, but I’ll play along, I guess? Having “a crush” was the same kind of fun as role-playing as princesses or ninjas during lunch break. 😂
And Robin is so sweet, I love her so much. She’s so nervous, it’s so cute, I mean cool. Their dynamic with the popular cheerleader girl x kinda nerdy/outcast girl is so good. I love the layers you added!
He turned towards you. He scoffed. Then pointed at Robin, angry. “So you weren’t sucking my fucking baby sister’s face just now, I just imagined it?”
Of course that’s what he’s worried about, pffft. I didn’t know how much I needed older brother Steve, of course he’d be overprotective.
LIANEEEE thank you so much!!! For taking the time to write such a nice reblog aaahh
I'm glad the beginning hit such a nerve. It really is the universal experience. I remember doing the math in my head during all of the school trips and conversations when all the girls started talking about crushes. "Do fictional characters count?" us nerds say in unison, too.
SOOOO happy you liked my Robin!! I love her to pieces, a fluff piece suited her so well. Especially that dynamic, can't get it out of my head now, too haha
YES! I REALLY enjoyed older brother Steve. He's such a warm soul through and through and I'm so glad I got to write him like that.
Thanks again to Anon for the request and the inspiration, I love that it turned into all this existing <3
Hey !! I just wanted to request a Harrington!reader x Robin fic where he catches Robin and reader flirting and kissing and reader freaks out thinking he will be homophobic and disgusted by her, little does she know Steve is fully accepting. angst/comfort, thank you !! ❤️
The Harrington Trap (Request)
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Pairing: Reader (f) / Robin Buckley
Other Relationships: Reader (Steve's younger sister) & Steve Harrington, Robin & Steve
Characters: Reader (Steve's younger sister), Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Mention of Dustin Henderson
Tags: Angst / Comfort, Sibling Relationship, Self-Insert, Kissing, Scared of Homophobia, Coming out and Acceptance, Reader x Character (F/F)
Rating: T
2,733 words
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
You are a Harrington. High School is a playing field for you, and you came here to win.
All the boys love you. All the girls envy you.
Unlucky for you, you know it’s all a facade.
When you meet Robin Buckley, sparks fly. You keep your dating a secret, until one day, your brother Steve shows up at Robin’s house unannounced. Your life as you know it is over.
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
“Why did no one tell me about this? My sister Robin, really?”
“I thought you’d be angry and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was stupid I know, but we were just getting to know each other and I swear I would’ve told you eventually, sometime, when I was sure. I mean when we were sure—”
Robin stopped, her gaze darting to you, but she saw nothing but a puzzled face, a deep panic, and then you interrupted her.
“Steve, I swear it’s not what it looked like—”
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Notes: Thank you so much for your request! This was my first take at a request, and it was super fun to write. I love Robin and Steve so much and I'm glad you gave me this opportunity and idea to write about them for a while. I really hope you're happy with the outcome~
Want to request something from me?
Click here for more info.
Reblogs are always appreciated if you liked this story! :)
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
It had started in Middle School.
Fleeting glances, pink blushes, shivers down your spine. In gym class, you started changing in the bathroom. Once a month, you forgot your gym clothes at home.
You couldn’t swim, you were too afraid of the water, you told the teachers.
When your friends started talking about their crushes, you made an internal list of who was the most popular boy, and you picked him, each time. You gushed about platitudes, hair and strong muscles, everything you’d read in magazines.
Everything to not stand out.
You were a Harrington, after all.
You were born to fit in. To be popular.
When Steve started bringing in one girl after the other when your parents weren’t at home, you hid downstairs. You had heard his girlfriend moaning one single time in your room next to his, and you swore you could never take it again. It took you weeks to calm down. So now you hid in front of the TV, safe in inaudible distance. Downstairs, everyone was fully clothed and decent.
A year after him, you brought home your first boy. He was a basketball player, second best in the team, of course.
You fought with Steve after. Although nothing of note happened — you couldn’t take the musky smell and the rough lips of this guy — Steve almost killed him. You wished nothing more than to send him away anyway, but he made a big deal of it, and he ridiculed the poor guy at school, long after you stopped talking to him at all.
Steve had influence like that. The girls adored him, the boys respected him, and you were right there with him, getting on everyone’s good side, befriending the most popular people, joining the cheer squad. You were good. You were happy.
Guys chased you, and you turned them away. Your reputation spread, and soon everyone wanted to get with you. It helped you immensely. You just had to make them believe that any of the guys would even have a chance, when they most definitely, absolutely didn’t, as you one day realized in horror.
It was during a game your junior year when you noticed an unfamiliar pair of eyes glued to you. You were used to be watched, everyone adored you after all, but it was gazes of envy you were used to, and of lusty gross boys.
But she, she looked at you like you were precious. Like she was curious. Like she couldn’t look anywhere else but you. But when you looked back, she looked away.
And oh, you knew the feeling so well.
She played the trumpet in band. You never talked to anyone from band outside of class. Cool people were in sports, and so were you. You didn’t even have classes together. She was older than you, Steve’s age, a senior.
It was in the bathroom where you first talked to her.
You were just entering the girl’s room, when she barged out of a stall and almost hit your nose with the door, hadn’t you jumped back and squealed.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands before her mouth in shock, her eyes widened. You had to breathe a few times to recover from the shock.
“Are you okay?” she asked and scanned you head to toe. She lingered. Too long.
You cleared your throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You dusted off your mini skirt even though it was perfectly straight and clean, but you needed something to do. “I sounded like a little girl,” you added under your breath, mortified.
She grinned. “Only a little. It was c— cool.” She corrected herself mid-word, and she held her breath. You met her scared gaze for a second, before she replaced it with another grin.
You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Sure.” You rolled your eyes, and moved towards the sinks, splashed cold water in your face. Calm down. You could feel her presence still behind you, she was fidgeting, nervous.
You’d watched her often during games, so you knew she was always on her toes. She talked to her band mates a lot. Once you left for coach’s fetch quest, returned about ten minutes later and still found her telling the same story, gesticulating wildly, excitement engraved in her face. You remembered wishing you could have listened to what she had to tell.
“You’re Y/N, right? Harrington?”
You held eye contact through the mirror in front of you, and you nodded.
“Robin,” she said. “I don’t think we ever see each other outside of games.”
“We don’t,” you said, drying your face with a paper towel. You knew it was best to look away now. To leave. If you were anything like your cheerleader friends, you would. It’s what you learned to do from them. How to survive High School, 101. Stay away from the uncool kids.
But your heart had other plans. It started picking up pace, and fearing the treacherous color of your face, you faced down, splashing more cold water.
Robin just watched. You prayed for her to go away. But neither of you did.
“You want to…change that?” you heard yourself say suddenly, facing the sink. Your breath stopped. Seconds passed. It was fine. It was fine. You didn’t say anything stupid. She could think you wanted to be friends.
When you looked up, it was Robin instead who turned pink.
Robin and you started talking after school. You had invited her to get coffee, somewhere at the edge of Hawkins, not so many high school frequenters. She invited you to a movie, and you had the best talk of your life after.
When you weren’t with her, each time you found yourself wishing she was there. Each time you passed each other in the hallway, and each time you saw each other during games, you wanted to run to her, tell her about your day or the new music you’d found. But you didn’t. You agreed to leave it at after-school hangouts only.
You were too scared of what the others would see.
Would they see how Robin brushed your hand ever so slightly, how she touched you more often than she needed to? Watch you as you stared in each other’s eyes like they were gates to another universe? You couldn’t hold any of that back. So you couldn’t be seen.
It was Robin’s idea to go to her place one day.
Her parents were out of town, and she didn’t have any siblings, so you would be alone.
Alone.
You trembled at the thought.
Robin had picked up a dozen movies from the video rental store, and had spread them out on the floor of her room. You were sitting across from each other, eyeing the selection.
“This is impossible,” you said, defeated, falling back on the soft fabric of her carpet.
You could hear and feel her move, and soon she had crawled over to where you were spread out on the floor, her face above yours. She was crouched next to your torso, her short hair falling in her face. She nudged your side with her hand, and you squealed, ticklish.
Her face lit up. “There it is!” she exclaimed.
“No fair,” you complained, “I said I was embarrassed last time.”
Robin’s face turned more earnest. She hesitated. “Are you still?”
You locked eyes.
“Embarrassed?” She spoke softly, intentionally.
You held your breath and shook your head, slowly.
It all happened so fast, then.
As Robin was leaning down to you, you were pushing yourself off the ground, and your lips met in the middle. You held on to her for dear life, crossed your arms behind her neck, still leaning somewhere in between laying and sitting. She held your back, supported you, kept you from falling.
She was so intoxicating. Robin smelled warm — like the beach on a mild day, gentle and comforting. Her lips were the softest thing you ever touched, her embrace felt like a safe shelter, like home. You could feel all your muscles relax and all your senses attune to this moment, to her and her alone. Everything else seemed so pointless now.
Until you heard the muffled sound of a familiar voice.
“What the fuck?”
Robin spun her head so quickly you barely realized what happened. Despite the urgency, she still held on to you, not letting you fall, until you found yourself back in the present. Enough to move, enough to take in the surroundings of Robin’s room. There, pressing his face against the window, you saw him.
Your brother.
You sat up quickly, and pushed yourself off the ground, eyes wide. Robin was faster, she hauled towards the window, and slid it open.
“What are you doing here?” Robin’s voice trembled.
Steve climbed through the first floor windowsill, almost hitting his head in the process. You were standing bolt upright, mouth agape in shock, and your eyes darted from Robin towards your brother and back, not even comprehending to see them in the same room, in Robin’s room.
“S-Steve,” you stuttered. He stared at you, indecipherable look. At Robin, he looked angry, and she seemed to shrink a little, shoulders slouching, face cringing.
You swore your legs would give in at any moment, your heart would jump out of your chest and helplessly race in a puddle of blood on the floor, all alone. Ruined. Over. That was it.
The face Steve made looked just like when he kicked your first “boyfriend” **out.
“I swear, I can explain,” Robin took a step towards him, but he raised a finger as if to tell her to stop, but then he directed all his attention away from you toward Robin. His back was now to you, and you frowned.
A stupid thought, delayed by the panic formed in your mind: Why was your brother here?
“Why did no one tell me about this? My sister Robin, really?”
“I thought you’d be angry and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was stupid I know, but we were just getting to know each other and I swear I would’ve told you eventually, sometime, when I was sure. I mean when we were sure—”
Robin stopped, her gaze darting to you, but she saw nothing but a puzzled face, a deep panic, and then you interrupted her.
“Steve, I swear it’s not what it looked like—”
He turned towards you. He scoffed. Then pointed at Robin, angry. “So you weren’t sucking my fucking baby sister’s face just now, I just imagined it?”
Robin cringed. “N—No, you didn’t.”
Your heartbeat exploded. “Yes!” You corrected, “Yes, you did, we were just—”
“Y/N, it’s okay.” But Robin’s calmer voice got swallowed by your own fear.
“I just asked her to practice. I have this crush, and he told me I’m a bad kisser, so I asked Robin to help. It was silly, I shouldn’t have—”
“Y/N, stop.” Robin tried again.
“I would never just kiss a girl without a reason, why would I?”
Robin was suddenly in front of you, holding you by the sides of your upper arms, and she moved her head so you were forced to look into her eyes. They were so calm, suddenly, and she smiled.
You realized you were trembling all over.
“Stop,” she said, softly.
You looked into her eyes a little longer, soaked up the calm like a sponge. But it made the confusion resurface, and looking for an explanation, you searched for your brother.
You found Steve walking towards the both of you. The anger had faded from his face, he was still frowning but now he looked sad. Heartbroken. His eyes were glistening.
Robin and him exchanged a knowing glance and she stepped back, making room, as Steve suddenly moved to pull you into his arms and squeeze you tight. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he hugged you often, but it felt particularly warm now, like an apology. Like a safe place.
When he stepped away, you were frowning deeply.
“I— I don’t understand,” you said, fighting for words.
“He knows,” Robin just said, and she smiled at Steve, whose expression suddenly changed to glare at her, and she flinched.
“I thought you just caught us—”
“I know about Robin, Y/N.”
“You two know each other?”
They shrugged, and then, like a secret code, a shared mystery, they grinned widely at each other.
“Sorry for not telling you,” Robin said. “But yeah, I know it sounds strange, but we’re friends.”
“Were,” Steve cautioned her. “Until you decided it was a good idea to snatch my sister behind my back, Buckley. She is way too young for your dirty ass mind.”
Robin rolled her eyes.
But then Steve smiled at you, and he lifted his arm to ruffle your hair, destroying your perfectly combed ponytail. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. It’s cool.”
You blinked. And felt the faintest feeling of water rising in your eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” you said. And you collapsed to the floor, crouched on your knees, like a wet sack devoid of strength. Steve sat down near you, on Robin’s bed. She just watched the both of you.
Steve groaned, but it sounded relaxed, playful. “I should have known, honestly. That boy was disgusting, and you never touched another one again.”
Robin laughed.
You scoffed. How could he have known you better than even you?
“Thanks for scaring the hell out of me,” you nudged his leg in an attempt to punch him, but your arms were weak from all the trembling, and it was barely a graze.
“Steve, why did you come here though?” Robin asked.
That seemed to shake him awake a little, and he looked like he had forgotten something, suddenly.
“Right,” he said, and stood, facing Robin, “you need to come with me.” His voice had a serious tone like you’d rarely heard from him before.
Robin looked like she knew without any further explanation. She sighed.
Then she sat with you, took your hand. “I’m so sorry to leave you standing in the rain like this, but we have to leave.”
“Both of you? Why?”
They exchanged glances. “Hard to explain, but, uh—” she squeezed your hand. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? I promise. We’re good, right?”
You nodded, slowly, confused.
She got up, and you followed her, and before you really registered you all were leaving her house.
“I’ll take you home,” Steve said, the keys to his beloved car dangling as he pulled them out his pockets.
You tried to get in the back seat after Robin, but Steve held the door shut in front of you. “I can’t take this shit in my car, not yet, people.”
You felt your cheeks flush, and scurried for the front seat.
“Why can’t I come with?” You asked as Steve started the motor, and headed for your house a few streets away.
No one answered your question, not really. They were dodging it, saying they can’t tell you now, maybe later, that it was all a little complicated. Nothing major though, really. Robin rambled, none of the words she was saying made you any wiser until you reached the Harrington house, and before it stood two kids you recognized from school. A boy with dark curls, carrying some sort of technical equipment, sprinted for the car when Steve pulled into the driveway.
“What is going—”
“Hurry up, we don’t have any time to lose,” the boys tore open the car’s back door, and Robin made room for them and their equipment to sit, while you were just sitting there, blinking.
Robin reached for your hand and squeezed it. She gave you a weak smile. “See you later?”
You nodded, slowly. Looking for Steve, he nudged his head towards the door, needing you to leave.
“Give me a heads up next time, you two. Please.” He then said to you and Robin.
You got out of the car, hesitantly.
Robin waved to you as they drove off.
You didn’t sleep the whole night. Steve only came back early in the morning, cuts and bruises on his face.
But he hugged you as you went downstairs to greet him, and you knew that whatever crazy things could happen, your brother would always be there to have your back.
✧ Fandoms: Gilmore Girls, Arcane, Life is Strange, Supernatural, Tales of Series (JRPG), Persona, Final Fantasy, some manga & anime, DnD, Sailor Moon, a lot of things ✨️ will mostly post abt GG tho (probably)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Tag Info ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
In case you want to mute or follow certain topics! Mute #(fandom) if you don't want to see my reblogs of a specific fandom.
♡ #gilmore ramble 》 gilmore girls analysis, takes, opinions, headcanons etc.
♡ #juli reblogs art 》 art reblogs, also off topic or different fandoms
♡ #juli rambles off topic 》 personal stuff, (tag) games, nothing fandom-related
♡ #julis writing 》 my writing works
...updated regularly!
✧ OTPs: Literati (Jess x Rory), CaitVi, AmberPrice (Chloe Price x Rachel Amber, LiS), Byler (Will Byers x Mike Wheeler)
♡》》 -> probably a lot more that I can't remember that will show up sometime
✧ Music: Bring Me The Horizon, Paramore, Metal(core) & Alternative Rock, Taylor Swift and the pop girlies
✧ Likes: writing (fanfiction, poetry, in general), reading, sometimes i draw, DMing my homebrew campaign, coffeeeee <33, chocolate
✧ Dislikes: don't support JKR, Neil Gaiman or Rammstein pls
Hello everyone!
Just wanted to let you know that if you wish to ask me to write something, I am taking requests.
I have actually never done this before, so this is all on a try-out experimental basis at first.
You can use my ask button to request something for me to write.
You can request any fandom I've already published here (#julis writing), or on Ao3 (JuLeia).
At the moment, that includes:
Gilmore Girls, Arcane, Stranger Things, Tales of Series
If you want to request something else, you can absolutely do so, but I will have to decide individually if I can / want to write those chars / ideas!
Some rules include:
I write F/M, F/F and M/M, Char/Reader, but any gender or pairing should normally be fine (as long as I am comfortable writing the chars).
I do write smut and explicit, but only if I'm comfortable. I will have to decide individually.
I generally do not have taboo topics, but will also decide individually. I might have to add to here though, if I discover there's something I will generally not want to write.
Please be respectful, nice and patient. It may take some time for me to fulfill the request or I might never get to it, but I will inform you either way.
I could write outside of fandom, meaning original characters, but again, I'll decide individually and on the basis of the information I get from you / what you wish to achieve by letting me write anything you have thought of :D
Requests can be made anonymously, however please be aware that this means I have no way to get back to you about questions or to turn you down, since I will only turn down requests in private. Chances of me writing your request and getting in touch with you are way higher if you leave a named request ~
I reserve the right to turn your request down or not finish it for any reason.
If you want to put in a request...thank you so much for your interest!! <3
Mike is a storyteller. He’s convinced that this role comes with isolation. With confusing feelings, every time he imagines his best friend’s face. With all the dread and fear that torment him every single day.
Until Dustin takes him to see Will unknowingly, and Mike is forced to confront those feelings, or lose Will forever.
Can a storyteller write his own story?
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
“I’m sorry, I was a jerk,” is all he could muster to say and he bit his lip forcefully as if punishing himself.
Will hummed quietly, not content. He shifted, and Mike felt that he was turning to face the wall again and it scared him. Not in the way his thoughts scared him, this felt like the real Will right in front of him was slipping away. He was losing him with his dodging questions, with his half-hearted, half-truthful answers he had gotten so used to. Maybe the others still held on to him, maybe their friendship would survive superficiality, but Will slipping away, it felt so different. He couldn’t stand Will moving away from him. Their relationship had never been superficial like this. Mike had always been as honest as he could with Will, because it was Will.
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Tags: Byler, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Joyce Byers, Fix-it Fic, Post Canon, Canon Compliant, Mike written as he should be, Mike is scared of his own feelings, Complex Grieving, Grieving for El, Dealing with Repressed Homosexuality, Happy Ending, Fluff, One Bed Trope, Mike has Panic Attacks, Will is Confident, And Enjoying his Life
6,839 words
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
Notes: My self-indulgent take on a post-canon fix-it fic for Stranger Things's own Byler. They're dictating my life right now, so I had to get all those thoughts out on paper. I hope you can feel how much I love and appreciate Mike. Which was a long journey for me as I watched the show. Unexpected favorite for sure. I just wish he got what he deserved. And tried to give to him, with this. Hope you enjoy!
Reblogs always appreciated if you liked this story! :)
SPOILERS FOR ALL OF STRANGER THINGS.
Link to Ao3
≪•◦•◦•◦•◦ ♡︎ ◦•◦•◦•◦•≫
The storyteller is vital.
Just like the heart is for the body, he keeps experiences alive, lets oxygen flow through them. He makes sure memories are preserved and stories get their deserved attention. Without his voice, the characters are just as vibrant and special. But they fade. And he won’t let them fade.
He can’t.
They gave him too much. Just like he makes sure they never die, they give him air to breathe, joy to feel, tears to cry. He loves them too much to ever let them be forgotten.
It’s his duty, his sacrifice. Taking himself out of the picture so he can paint it.
Like the person behind the camera, he was always there. But they forget. Because the photo he took will shape the memory, when all recollection fades. His face will be forgotten but theirs will be immortal. Yet he will forever know he stood next to them when he put the camera down.
Mike Wheeler has always told stories. But he became a storyteller when he needed it most.
When he didn’t know where else to turn or what else to do.
That’s when he buried himself in paper and ink. When he started asking more questions and avoided answering others’.
And eventually, that was when on his way to the grocery store, head high looking up at the clouds, chasing no particular thought but a million racing ones, he bumped shoulder-to-shoulder into Joyce Byers.
“Mike! I’m so sorry. Didn’t see you there,” she laughed nervously, putting a large, rolled-up and plastic-packed mattress from her arms onto the ground.
She practically beamed when she scanned him head to toe. He tried to cross his arms to cover the sauce stain he knew was still there on his Hellfire longsleeve. He opened his arms briefly to push the glasses up his nose. His nose must have been glistening in the sun like a gem, only infinite times less beautiful and all the more oil-covered. Embarrassing.
“Hey Joyce,” he said, hesitantly.
Although he could never manage to really avoid her, he made sure it was at least weeks at a time that he didn’t have to face her. It was easier. Hopper he couldn’t avoid, he was present in this godforsaken town like a watch dog on its territory, but Joyce, Joyce at least he could avoid, dodging her usual routes and all that. He told himself it was for everyone’s own good. He avoided many of his friends, from time to time. Controlled exposure and research. Hear about their lives, make mental notes, write it down later. Think about it in bed, alone. Instead of his head spinning mid-conversation. Easier for everyone.
Especially with Joyce.
“How have you been? You know, Will asked what you were up to when he called me the other day. He said he hasn’t heard from you in a while.” She tilted her head, expression getting slightly worried.
At the sound of his name, panic rose in Mike’s chest.
“Oh, everything’s fine, don’t worry. So much going on, you know. I’ll call him soon.” He squeezed his crossed arms a little tighter.
Joyce leaned on her mattress.
“Preparing for the move?” he pursed his lips.
“Hopper told you, huh?” she smiled sheepishly, then sighed. “It’s easier the second time. Not quite so far away, too.”
“I can imagine.”
“So you talk to Hopper? Regularly?”
He knew what she was asking and he got more fidgety by the second.
Most of his friends knew to leave him alone by now. He’s dodged enough of their questions to lose most of their interest, reported the same old dull Hawkins days over and over again so there wouldn’t be any interesting news to share. But Joyce never stopped asking. It was like she was trying to poke into his soul, and lure something out even he wasn’t yet aware of.
She was so concerned. She loved him. He knew. But precisely that scared the hell out of him.
“Occasionally,” he corrected.
Joyce nodded, her brows drawn together perpetually. “Good, good.”
They stood there, and Mike rocked back and forth on his toes. He tried to open his mouth, think of an excuse to go, but Joyce continued.
“I’m sure it helps if you both talk about El. Makes it a little easier. Less alone.”
He took a deep breath, as quietly as possible. His gaze fixated his shoe, then the nearest storefront, anywhere but her eyes. “Sure. Of course. It does.”
“You know, just because we’re moving doesn’t mean we’re not still here for you. You can call us anytime. Or visit. We’ll have a nice extra bedroom, I’m planning to make it a guest room. You can show up anytime. Talk to Hop, go meet Will in New York, you know. I’m sure he could show you around a little. He keeps talking about all the amazing opportunities, he even mentioned how there are so many writing jobs he didn’t know even existed and that you—”
Mike coughed loudly and Joyce stopped, patting his back.
“Thanks, thanks,” he waved her off, slid his hand through dark, oily curls. And took a step backwards, leaning forward. Hoping she wouldn’t notice his fast breathing, the fear in his eyes and the tears holding back.
“Sounds great, really. I’ll give you a call. Have a good move, Joyce. Tell me if you need help, okay?” He moved in to hug her, anything not to let her see his face, and she seemed surprised, but squeezed him tightly, the touch of a mother.
“Take care, Mike.”
And he practically ran away.
As soon as he closed the door to the basement behind him, his breath got out of control. He wasn’t sure what part of the pulse was a result of his sprinting home and which the panic attack, but he wheezed, and he locked the door, and he stumbled down the stairs into his office chair, the type writer clanging when he brushed against the desk with too much force.
Joyce’s voice kept echoing in his head.
Will asked what you were up to
Go meet Will in New York
I’m sure he could show you around
He said he hasn’t heard from you
The sound of his name created vivid pictures of his face in Mike’s mind. Will talking about him. To Joyce. To new friends? What would he say?
His face appeared before his inner eye, smiling widely at him, bumping his arm, the touch sending shivers down Mike’s spine. He breathed harder.
As he always did when this happened, he tried to replace his face. Tried to recall those memories of El, the taste of her lips, the feel of her touch, the sound of her laugh. And it worked. To an extent. He felt guilty and horrible and he propelled himself right into this profound grieving, this ugly quiet sobbing only he could hear, but that was the goal. And he felt like the scum of the earth for even doing this.
But he was convinced this was what he should do. He should be grieving El. And he was grieving El. Whatever strange feeling arose when he thought of his former best friend, for some reason he felt like he should be replacing them with thinking about El instead.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was making both worse. He knew he wasn’t grieving El as El, that he was misusing her memory. And he knew that each time he replaced those thoughts of Will, they came back, again and again, and haunted him worse each time.
So he felt like he was dying, on that office chair. And the tears just kept streaming out his eyes, and the sobs were buried in his beloved shirt, and his gaze darted towards the door every few seconds, his ears trained, to make sure no one, absolutely no one could hear.
The storyteller is alone.
He needs time and quiet to write his stories. To build them from the ground up, polish them, to really focus on his own words and thoughts.
But the storyteller needed inspiration. And that could only come from others. His own life was sworn to his cause, so in order to get a glimpse outside, he had to hear what others had to say, see what others were seeing, immerse himself in their vivid lives.
So when Dustin asked Mike to ride to Boston with him for his first research conference, naturally he said yes. Even when he found that Lucas and Max would not be coming, because it didn’t matter. He knew his friends better than anyone. So he knew what would be important to them. Never in a million years could he say no.
He would have said no, he realized, if Dustin had told him the whole story. He would have imagined any excuse that wouldn’t have left him too hurt, that seemed inevitable enough to justify his absence in something so crucial for him, but he would’ve had to.
Because at the doors to the university gymnasium stood Will Byers.
And the smile Mike had imagined and overwritten a million times was right in front of him once more.
His heart actually stopped for what seemed like a whole minute.
Dustin ran past him to throw himself at Will, and they hugged, and Will closed his eyes but then he opened them again, and he beamed at Mike over Dustin’s shoulder, just like Joyce had beamed at him just a few weeks prior. Love. A mother’s love, a friend’s love. They loved him.
And Mike couldn’t look at them. He was a monster.
His feet felt like a thousand tons when he dragged them across the asphalt, wondering why he didn’t leave marks, why the weight of all this dread didn’t push him into the ground and made him disappear from the face of the earth.
“You’re alive,” Will’s voice said as he got closer in what felt like an entire odyssey worth of effort.
“Of course I am.” Mike said. Dustin patted Will’s shoulder as he let him go, and Mike saw Will twitching as if he wanted to move to hug him next, but then he stopped. Like waiting for permission. His beam faded to a light glow, brows slightly furrowed, and he looked a little like his mother.
“Sorry for the secret,” Dustin said, and he seemed happy, so happy. “But I thought you’d both be surprised this way.”
Will nodded, agreeing. And he smiled at Mike, but he still hadn’t moved to hug him hello, and the seconds passed and now it would be awkward, he figured. More than it already was. So Will just smiled, and Mike tried so hard to pull the goddamn corners of his mouth up, up, up already.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Will said and laughed, and he watched for Mike’s reaction and Mike wondered how much he was aware of. He knew Will’s intuition was uncanny and he cursed every little bit of his own knowledge and Will’s godlike skill right about now. But the way he laughed, the way he said it, it sounded less like a joke, and more like a question.
So Mike shrugged. And he could’ve slapped himself for that tone, but he said “I’ve been busy” and his gaze darted to Dustin as if to caution him. Dustin frowned, but he stayed quiet, and Mike hated that his happiness was stained ever so slightly, tainted by a frown, caused by Mike’s stupid little action born of pure panic.
And even Will frowned. And now Mike was responsible for bringing two glowing moods down, so he stared at the floor and prayed once again, this time for a tear in the ground into the upside down, a demogorgon respawning and dragging him with, anything but being responsible for all of this. He shouldn’t have come. It would’ve hurt them less.
But here he was, and he sighed, and then he teared at the corners of his mouth so hard they had no choice but to oblige.
“But I’m happy I made it.” He heard himself say. And was rewarded with Will’s smile, and it felt like a thousand suns exploding in his chest.
When they went inside, Dustin had to leave to prepare his poster.
So Will and Mike decided to get in line for some coffee. Mike felt the strain of the long drive tear on him, and he was grateful for the instant smell of relief from the little coffee cart in the corner. All around them, important-looking people in suits, but they talked just like Dustin when you asked him to explain and he happily obliged. Posters of graphs and formulas and words even Mike had never heard of. It was impressive. It was huge. It was…a future.
And amidst it all, he could feel Will next to him. Despite his panic, despite the time passed, his presence was so familiar, so calming, like he was his sun and he orbited around him, reveled in his warmth.
When he felt Will that close next to him, and he got the faintest smell of the detergent he still used when he moved, he ached. Because he realized he had missed him.
God, how much he had missed him. His face haunted Mike every night, but is was nothing compared to his actual presence, to the real person, flesh and blood, right next to him. Alive, with a heartbeat, the real Will. Like he’d always known him. Just different.
Mike breathed in and out, deeply.
“How is everything?” he finally asked and it felt like a giant weight off his shoulders.
Will turned and smiled, and his attention was addicting, a precious good to hold.
“Good,” he said, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
He looked so nonchalant, so good. Mike was suddenly aware of how messy his hair must look after such a long drive. Of how his shirt fell against his torso. He wasn’t afraid of stains anymore — he wouldn’t embarrass Dustin on a big day. But he was embarrassed himself, suddenly self-conscious of his unkempt curls that hadn’t seen a hairdresser in so long. Of the dark glasses sitting on his nose. He didn’t care much how he looked when he bought them, but now he did. And he wondered about if they even suited him, if he could’ve taken the seller up on that offer to look for a more modern frame, whatever that meant.
Will looked like he’d taken offers like that. Gone was the shy little kid with the bowlcut (that Mike had always adored nonetheless, never getting why Will was ever laughed at until someone had explained to him). Will was a grown man and he had style. And poise. Mike would have guessed he came straight from the New York big city life, even if he didn’t know.
And he looked at him.
Mike almost couldn’t take it, had to fight the urge to look away again.
“The city’s great,” Will continued. They took a step forward in the line, three pairs of people separating them from the relief of caffeine in their systems.
“I actually thought of you the other day. A friend told me about the fantasy book they’re writing, and I told them about you. I think you’d get along. There’s so many people with so many cool ideas, I bet you’d love it.”
Mike swallowed hard. He knew Will meant it. And he probably thought it would make Mike happy, excited even to hear this. But the dread culminated like weight above his head again, his stomach churning.
“How cool,” he smiled politely, “I’m sure they’re way better than me, though.”
Will looked actually saddened. “Don’t say that.” A short pause. “My boasting about your epic campaigns would sound a lot less impressive.”
That made Mike laugh. Actually laugh for a second.
“You’re boasting with DnD?”
Will joined and nodded.
“You’re kidding me,” Mike continued, but Will shook his head.
“I’m actually not.”
“And no one laughed?”
“No, they didn’t.”
“So what they say about the city is true after all.”
Will looked so serious when he responded. “It is. Trust me.”
Mike gave him a weak smile.
Then it was their turn for coffee.
They talked some more, next to the coffee cart. Will told him stories about his new friends, about his studies, his favorite cafés. Mike kept answers to his questions short, but he tried shooting him down less than he usually did their friends, scared to disturb the mood, the actual flow of their conversation. The smile on Will’s face.
He was grateful. A little relieved.
A lot relieved, actually.
The pictures in his head were updating to a new Will, a real Will, a lot less scary Will, although a much more intimidating one. A really good-looking one. A happy, free one.
He was like a magnet, and Mike was pure, helpless, plain metal, drawn to him without a choice.
Dustin came running for them when they were laughing at a joke Will told.
He looked pleased, seeing them. “We’re starting in a minute, you should come by my poster before there’s no more room.” And Mike would have believed Dustin was going to draw a crowd in the blink of an eye.
Of course, Dustin was brilliant. Mike couldn’t stop smiling as he listened to his stories about his research, answering questions. It was so nice, smiling on his own, no force required. He looked for Will again and again, and found him smiling, too. But when he wasn’t looking, he felt Will’s gaze burning into his side, and Mike’s breathing stuttered, his heart beating faster each time.
After Dustin finished, Mike and Will started clapping, and immediately seized after noticing no one else did, sticking their heads together, giggling in embarrassment. Dustin grinned widely though, and no one looked actually annoyed. Mike’s blush came less from the embarrassment, and more from feeling Will’s breath on his cheeks for a split second, his mind freezing.
They went up to Dustin when every other question was answered, and asked him some more. He explained in a way they would understand effortlessly, and that’s what Mike was even more impressed at. When they were done, Mike patted Dustin’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said. “This stuff is amazing.”
Will nodded in agreement.
Mike and Will moved on, listening to more or less interesting talks and posters and explanations around the conference, never leaving each others’ side. At the end of the day, they could confidently agree Dustin did it best, and so they announced to him when they got drinks afterwards, and then went to retire to Dustin’s tiny dorm room.
“It’s okay, I’ll take the floor,” Mike immediately announced.
“My roommate is out of town,” Dustin said, “he said we could use his bed.”
“Perfect, so Will can take it,” Mike concluded, and thought the matter done, avoiding a panic. He would sleep by Dustin’s side of the room, since he was his guest.
But then Will said “Nonsense,” and Mike really, really wished he hadn’t started arguing.
Dustin sighed. “You two decide amongst yourselves, I’m going to the bathroom.” And then he was gone, and they were left alone.
The dorm had two single beds, two closets, two desks. A mini fridge under what Mike assumed to be Dustin’s desk, covered in tools and paper classwork. Some decoration on the walls. A lot of postcards from Hawkins, a picture of Dustin’s mother with their new cat.
Will turned to Mike. “You’ve had a longer ride, you should take the other bed.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m fine, really. I took the basement floor plenty of times when you all stayed over, remember? Bet that was way colder and more uncomfortable than this.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Yeah, when we were twelve. Don’t tell me you haven’t woken up with back pain at least once by now, or I’ll feel old.”
Mike laughed. Will looked at him with a smile, and something he couldn’t quite decipher. As if he was waiting for Mike to say something, something specific.
But he didn’t. He looked back at Will, then to the bed. And he bit his lip.
But then Will did.
“We shared my bed plenty of times.”
And there it was. Mike thought he was going to faint.
El. El. He tried to imagine El. And he hated himself again for trying. But this time, it didn’t even work. It was like his memory was temporarily erased, like a piece of the tape was cut out and missing. He didn’t remember sharing the bed with her, like he’d tried to recall. Didn’t remember how her kiss tasted like.
He just saw Will, living and breathing across from him, felt his warmth and saw his eyes and remembered the times they fell asleep together as children, waking up with his head on Will’s shoulder. He remembered when he fell asleep with his head on Will’s lap in the hospital, when the hive mind was torturing all the life out of him. How he sat by his bedside for endless hours, waiting for a sign he was still alive and breathing.
He just saw Will.
And he nodded.
Dustin barged in then, his hair wet from the shower.
“Come on, I’ll show you the bathroom. I’m so beat.”
Mike’s back was touching Will’s.
Dustin had just shrugged at their decision, like it was nothing to note. For Mike, it was the thing of note.
He was staring at the ground with eyes wide open, a faint street light from outside painting silhouettes of the dorm room in front of him. Across, he could hear Dustin start to snore. But all his tiredness was blown away entirely.
Will was laying very still, his face against the wall. Will had always preferred to face the wall, and Mike had always understood, and felt like it gave him a job. The wall was safe, and he was close to the door. If anything happened, he would protect Will.
He didn’t really feel like that anymore. He knew Will could take care of himself. That he was taking care of himself, better than he was, let’s face it. He didn’t need Mike anymore.
But he still chose the wall. And it felt like everything was still as it used to be, in some tiny way.
“Are you asleep?” Will’s voice was a whisper.
Mike shook his head.
Will shifted, turned on his back. Mike felt Will’s shoulder on his own back.
“I really thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
The words hurt Mike like a knife to the chest. He could feel his eyes water up, but he pushed it away, like he was used to.
“You know that’s not true,” he responded with a whisper, his voice earnest.
A pause.
“Do I? I really wasn’t sure, Mike.”
He shuddered at the sound of his own name in Will’s voice.
“You avoided a few of my calls and then you never called back for months, I—”
Will took an audible breath. “I kind of thought you didn’t need me anymore. That I was gone and you were getting by so well without me that you realized we were never supposed to be friends outside of Hawkins or all this—” he hesitated, “all this horror that we saw.”
“Or,” Will continued, “that, you know. That you decided it wasn’t okay, after all. That you just pretended while I was there.”
That alerted Mike, and he shifted too, until he was shoulder to shoulder with Will, his other shoulder hanging off the bed, so that they could even fit next to each other on the small mattress. His leg was now touching Will’s, and his head was next to his, and then he turned to look at him, and found him staring at the ceiling, his hands joined on his stomach.
“That what wasn’t okay?” Mike asked, slowly.
Will looked at him briefly. Then stared back at the ceiling. “You know.”
Mike’s breath stuttered. “No.” he said, earnestly, tried to really emphasize it.
“No, never. I wouldn’t. Come on, Will.”
Will shrugged, but it wasn’t that he didn’t care, it’s that Mike saw the profound doubt in his eyes even in the low light, and he hurt deeply seeing it.
“How was I supposed to know?” he asked. “We never talked about it. Not after we climbed that radio tower.”
Mike swallowed. “I—” he hesitated, “I know.”
He knew very well. Knew how much he’d been avoiding the topic. Not in his head. It was playing on repeat over and over and over, and each time he tried to push the thought and Will’s face aside, trying to replace it, not knowing what to do with the confusing feeling. The panic, the flutter, the hope-like thing he didn’t understand, didn’t get the meaning or the tugging and tearing at all his heartstrings of.
But he’d been avoiding talking about it. In fear that his confusion would show, that he’d have to reveal the turmoil that was going on inside him, that he didn’t understand, was too scared to try and understand, if he was very honest. He was afraid the real Will, not the picture in his mind, his warmth and his real Will-ness would tickle it out of him. Would make him confront it. And he had done anything to avoid letting that happen.
“I’m sorry, I was a jerk,” is all he could muster to say and he bit his lip forcefully as if punishing himself.
Will hummed quietly, not content. He shifted, and Mike felt that he was turning to face the wall again and it scared him. Not in the way his thoughts scared him, this felt like the real Will right in front of him was slipping away. He was losing him with his dodging questions, with his half-hearted, half-truthful answers he had gotten so used to. Maybe the others still held on to him, maybe their friendship would survive superficiality, but Will slipping away, it felt so different. He couldn’t stand Will moving away from him. Their relationship had never been superficial like this. Mike had always been as honest as he could with Will, because it was Will.
Who else was there to be close to, who else was this important to him? Being close to him had felt as natural as breathing since kindergarten.
Ignoring him was like freezing whatever they had, no new interaction could stain what they had, so they would be immortalized, no real consequences. But this, talking to him and not saying anything, hurting him, this was unbearable. It put a stake right through the heart of their bond, and they couldn’t survive too many blows.
“Will?” Mike said, his voice light, and for the first time since they talked again, shivering.
He didn’t say anything.
“I could never not be okay with anything you are. You have to believe me.” Mike was swimming, fighting for his life, and he knew it. “You’re too important to me.”
It was quiet for a while.
“Because we’re best friends?”
Mike wanted to get away from here so bad. Again. Pushed into a ground, snatched by a demogorgon, or a Beam me up, Scotty-moment, he didn’t care anymore, just away. Away from this conversation, but not away from Will. Never away from Will. Just keeping him close, but not facing whatever the turmoil inside of him was, whatever this was turning out to be, what he feared it to be. What the sinking feeling in his stomach started telling him it was, what he’d been pushing down, down, down, deep down, in fear for his life. But he knew. He knew. Knew what it was. He was too afraid to even think it in his head.
How could he say it? Thinking it had enough implications, admitting it to himself was earth-shattering, life-changing, terrifying enough, how could he possibly tell Will? He hadn’t even thought of those consequences. Of what could go wrong. What could change forever.
Mike’s head was spinning and he felt dizzy, nauseous, afraid. His heart started beating uncontrollably and judging by Will’s shifting towards him and his worried look, he was starting to notice.
Mike was facing the ceiling still, but he pushed himself up, sitting, and Will’s warm hand placed on his shoulder softly. He was barely breathing.
Dustin’s snore still filled the room over Mike’s shallow panic, and Will was sitting calmly beside him, his face full of worry. He shushed Mike quietly and softly, stroking over his shoulder again and again, saying things he couldn’t hear in a soft whisper.
Tears started streaming out of Mike’s eyes and as soon as he noticed, he leaned over to Will, consequences be damned, he couldn’t think of them right now anyway, and sobbed into his chest quietly. Will embraced him, held him tightly, and Mike was surrounded by just him. His scent, his warmth, he was so real and so close and among all the panic, Mike had not felt so at home in such a long time.
He calmed down later into the night, and Will didn’t let go of him a single time. They were sitting on the bed intertwined, Will holding him, stroking over his back in repetitive, calming motions for at least an hour, and the moon had started to move across the sky to shine a light in Dustin’s small dorm room.
After all, Mike raised his head from Will’s chest, and he let go, hesitantly.
“Better?” Will asked, and the care was so deeply ingrained in his voice it almost made Mike melt away.
The panic subsided for something else, for a tickling, an anticipation, a longing when he looked at Will, still touching his back, his eyes wide and…sad.
It tickled all his insides, and like he had cried all the fear out, when he looked into Will’s eyes, they gave him courage to let the feeling be. Mike held his gaze, and he breathed calmly, and he felt all the stirring in his stomach, all this magnetic pull from Will, all the warmth from him, all the suns exploding in his chest and he let them be.
“Yeah,” Mike said. And they laid back down together, and Will didn’t let go all night.
The storyteller is whoever he wants to be.
The people around him showed him how. While he was following their journey, he hadn’t noticed he’d been on one of his own. He always thought of himself out of the picture, behind the camera, when all along, he’d been in the middle of it all. Someone else painted his picture as they saw him.
Through their stories, he learns to live his own. It took him longer than most. He didn’t know how to approach it, so he made sense of it in his own way, his own words, the stories he told of others. He always needed time. But he too, would arrive on a journey’s and and move on to new, own waters.
So when it was time to drive his car alone back to Hawkins, leaving everyone behind in their lives, he realized all this.
When the sun shone through the curtains in the morning and Dustin found them passed out, sleeping tightly in each other’s arms, he had smiled and let them sleep some more.
When both of them awoke, it was together, and Mike held on as long as Will would let him until they started another day.
Longing glances pumped through Mike’s veins like blood during their breakfast, and he found Will staring back, and finally freed of all this fear, he could feel the unmatched excitement in those tickles in his stomach, the light fluttering, the warm feeling. The pull, pull, pull. And he knew it was Will. It had always been Will. And Mike knew it was himself, too. And it finally made sense. The red string throughout all of this long story, this exhausting journey, he had found it. And it felt like the greatest reward. Like he had won the battle, not lost it all at the end like he feared.
The only thing left was to put it into words, put the story on paper, immortalize it.
His own story.
And like with his characters, he could only equip himself with all the tools he needed, all the courage for the final fight, and hope for a happy end.
When it was time to say goodbye, they left Dustin at his dorm first. Mike hugged him tightly, and Dustin hugged back, and in a way, he felt like they were going to be okay, no matter what. He would call him. Visit him. Tell him about what he’d been thinking. They would be fine, again. Dustin smiled and they laughed together as they said their goodbyes.
Mike brought Will to the train station.
They decided to walk from the dorm, and Mike would return to his car later. He knew they would have plenty of time to talk, this way. And he wanted that. He knew Will deserved that, too. He wouldn’t let him down again.
“Thank you,” Mike said at first. “For helping me last night.”
“Of course,” Will said immediately. Then he looked at Mike like he waited for an explanation, in a soft, curious way.
Mike bit his lip, the fear gone but it left behind a nervousness, a curious but nerve-wrecking uncertainty about what would happen next, a million possibilities open. It was still hard to speak.
“Was it anything I said…?” Will tried. He put his hands in his pockets again, this time of his jeans, and Mike realized he really liked this way that he realized Will covered his own nervousness with, this harmless facade of nonchalance. It suited him so well. It made all of Mike’s insides tickle, pulled him tighter into Will’s force.
“Yes,” Mike just blurted out, and as Will widened his eyes, he quickly falsely corrected “No!” And then grunted, frustrated at himself. Will smiled, absurdly, as if amidst his own nerves he was amused by Mike’s.
Mike stopped walking. They were on a sidewalk at the edge of a park, and a blackbird was singing on the tree over their heads. He faced Will, who buried his hands in his pockets even deeper.
“Will, none of what you said yesterday was why I avoided you. But you were right, I did avoid you and I’m sorry.”
Will’s gaze turned soft and sympathetic, but he still tore at the edge of his pockets, and he shifted a little uncomfortably. But he listened intently, and Mike wondered if his heart was pounding just as fast as his own did.
Mike sighed, deeply. “I—I was very confused. I think I only realized after all of it, all of the fighting was over. At first, I was so consumed by—” he stuttered, “by El’s death.”
He could see Will’s eyes get glassy.
Mike waited some time before he continued. But he felt relieved. Relieved that he could finally give El the weight she deserved, too. Without any of the excuses, any of the misuse of her memory, of his time with her. In doing this, he set her free.
“But what you said to us all, what you confessed, it— it changed me. Not changed, I think it’s always been there, but I never saw it, not in the way you did.”
Will was listening to him patiently, and if he was hoping or feeling anything, Mike couldn’t see it.
“Will, I—”
“At the risk of sounding totally stupid and getting all of what you said wrong and maybe you didn’t even mean me, whoever that Tammy is that you said, and maybe this is very embarrassing right now but—”
He saw Will laugh, and shed a tear and he halted, confused once again, not sure what to make of this.
“Will?”
“Go on,” Will said, and he gave him a smile as the tear rolled down his cheek, “It’s okay, I promise. Just please, go on.” Mike then felt it was his turn. Will had given him permission, assured him he would be safe, would be fine, but it was still his place to say it, say what he had been thinking and pushing down all this time.
Mike breathed slowly. “I tried to push it down all this time that I’ve been avoiding you, but I think I understand it now. I was so afraid of myself, of this, and I don’t know how you even did this all by yourself, and then just went ahead and told everyone, because Will, I am so afraid.”
He actually started to shiver. Will looked at him sympathetically.
“But the way you—” Mike took a deep breath, “The way you held me yesterday, it all made sense. And I’m not so afraid anymore.”
“I don’t know how to say this, you probably already know if you’re not absolutely blind like I was, but—”
Will nodded. Another tear followed. But he smiled. And another tear.
Mike held his gaze, and an own smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he gathered every piece of courage he could find in himself. He moved closer to Will, one step, then two. It was so easy. It felt so right. He was pure, helpless metal in the presence of this man, this magnet, and he embraced it, gave in to the pull, to all the longing, to his warmth.
He stepped closer and touched his face with the back of his hand, so lightly, but he had never touched Will this intimately.
Mike was so close he could feel Will’s breath stop and just in that moment, as his finger still tickled from the touch of his cheek, he moved it to the back of Will’s neck and then pulled him closer, laying his lips on his.
A thousand suns and firework exploding.
Mike had never once felt excitement like this before in his life. All of his body hummed, gone was the anxiety, the fear, replaced by all this good, all this warm and all this buzz. It felt so right. He wanted his body to touch all of Will’s, to melt into one with him, to never let him go.
Will leaned into the kiss. When Mike lifted his lips from his, Will pulled them together again, and the kiss got more heated, more passion as Mike realized this was, that had been here all along. They were hasty, fast, hungry, like they’d been starving all their lives, and it hurt a little when they accidentally bumped each other’s teeth, but Will laughed in between their kiss, and Mike smiled into it in turn. Will held him so tight, just like tonight, but he didn’t hold back anymore. He held all of him, his body and soul and his whole being, it all belonged to Will.
They parted after a long while that Mike had wished could have been forever, and Will left a freezing cold where he left, an immediate longing to have him back, to keep him for good.
Mike brushed the tears off his cheeks with his fingers, and Will fixed the dark curl that had fallen into Mike’s face back to the rest of his hair. They smiled at each other, warmly. Free.
“I wish you would’ve talked to me way sooner.” Will finally said, and he still smiled.
“I wish I did, too.”
“You had me worrying over nothing, Mike. I was so scared!”
Mike laughed, so lightly like he hadn’t in such a long time.
“Didn’t you listen to me? I was fearing for my life!”
Will chuckled.
“Well, we never had to, did we?”
Mike shook his head.
They looked around, and just as they did, the blackbird spread its wings, and took off. He flew over their heads, until he landed on a tree across from them, joining another of his kin. No one else was in the street this morning.
Will turned to Mike to kiss him again, pulling him by his waist, and Mike took all of it so gratefully.
Then Will turned around, and started heading back to where they came from.
“Where are you going?” Mike called, running after him.
“We’re going home,” Will announced, “I think we both need to say goodbye to someone. Properly.”
Mike caught up to him. He almost couldn’t believe what he heard, but he felt the grief come back, pure and strong and finally right, on its own, how it should be. And he nodded.
“You’re right. Thanks.”
“And after, I’m showing your my room in New York. No discussion.”
