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No one talking about Karen Wheeler enough. She is just a normal woman, never seen the monster, was drunk as fuck, was scared as shit, and yet she protected her daughter with everything she got.
A broken wine bottle and having to strike that demogorgon up close.
Steve is MAD at Eddie for dying. He's mad. He's mad at what it's done to Dustin and mad he lost a friend. That fight was so well done. Dustin isn't capable of hearing those things but he needs to. He has to. And Steve is tired. How many times has he tried to talk about this to Dustin only to be rebuffed and insulted? Ugh they put two of their strongest actors and gave them the plotline of a lifetime.
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mike realized his parents didn't love each other when he was very young, and he rationalized this as all couples don't love each other. that's until he sees the way steve treats you.
c.w. none, a little angsty in the beginning but not really sad, mostly fluff, canon divergent bc i'm pretending the byers never moved to california and max is still hanging out with the party
a/n: wrote this instead of studying for finals, do not bring ship wars into the reblogs. this is me psychoanalyzing a sad teenage boy and writing self-indulgent domestic fluff
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Mike Wheeler's parents do not love each other. Maybe they have some semblance of love between them, but they are not engaged in the act of love. He isn't quite sure at what age, or even exactly when, he realized this. He can't point to one exact day of his life but rather a blur of the hundreds of evenings he's spent the same way.
Sitting at the dinner table with his parents and two sisters while his mother puts out emotional fires and his father picks at his chicken then tells his mom it's over salted. Nancy has a teeth-cleaning on Saturday so she needs to move her date with Jonathan. Also how is her chemistry grade? Mrs. Sinclair recommended a great tutor. Holly's daycare closes early tomorrow so someone needs to pick her up. Does one of Mike's friends want to earn some cash babysitting? Oh and is Mike still going out with his friends after school tomorrow?
Somewhere in the middle of his mother's rambles his father will stand up muttering a "thank you," not to be polite but because it's expected, and walks over to the couch to watch TV without putting his dish in the sink. He'll watch whatever sports game is on and crack a beer while his mother cleans the kitchen.
There is no animosity or arguing between Ted and Karen, only tolerance and mutual existence.
Eventually, the idea of love becomes near repulsive to him. The idea of his parents engaging in any sort of affection makes him nauseous. It's not the childish disgust Lucas has seeing his father kiss his mother but a deep-seated discomfort. A part of him (smaller or bigger than he'd like, he's not quite sure) believes love doesn't exist. It's simply a pleasant lie society feeds one another, because the idea of being alone is terrifying.
That's until he finds himself half-asleep on Steve Harrington's living room floor.
He's been having a lot of sleepovers with his friends since the Starcourt Mall incident. None of them want to be the person who says it but they're all terrified of being alone. He's woken up quite a few times in a cold sweat with gory images in his mind, and he doubts he's the only one. Steve's parents are hardly ever in town so his house becomes the designated place for sleepovers.
The credits are rolling for whatever movie they watched, Mike can't remember because he fell asleep half-way through. His memory is hazy of what time they started but if he had to guess it's probably close to one in the morning.
Dustin is fast asleep next to him on the floor and Will's knocked out on the couch above them. They had been designing their characters for a new DND campaign, Mike's pretty sure there's pen on his cheek from falling asleep while writing the character details.
One of the other side of the couch Max is squished between El and Lucas, and he sincerely doubts she'll mind come morning. She'll probably be grateful considering she's been having some of the worst nightmares.
His eyes make his way over to the loveseat where you had been sitting with Steve. What once started as a respectable distance to avoid incurring any teasing has disappeared. You're leaning on Steve, curled into his side and he has an arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulders. You're trying to focus on the credits, dangerously close to dozing off while Steve stares down at you with something in his eyes Mike can't quite understand.
What he does understand is that his parents have never held each other like that.
"You sleepin' over there baby?" Steve's voice is a soft murmur, smiling as he looks down at you.
"Mmmm…" you let out a sleepy hum, barely acknowledging his words before burrowing deeper into his side.
Steve's smile widens in response and all of a sudden Mike's stomach twists. It's not disgust or repulsion but… embarrassment. He's intruding on something special, he should just close his eyes and go back to sleep. That's what he should do, but he can't bring himself to.
"Mmm…. need to put… the kids,” you mumble just barely comprehensible in your sleepy stupor.
“What about the kids sweetheart?” Steve whispers brushing hair out of your face.
“Put em to bed….” you’re practically in Steve’s lap despite the fact the loveseat was made for two. “Mike and Dustin are on the floor… and clean up…..”
“I’ll do it,” Steve murmurs gently and kisses your forehead, “but first I'm putting you to bed.”
“No…..” your brow furrows in your half conscious state.
“Yes,” Steve smooths out the crease with his thumb and kisses your cheek. Then in one smooth movement he’s standing up and hoisting you into his arms, all while making sure the blanket is still tucked around you. You let out a quiet giggle when he picks you up and he notices.
"Having fun over there?" he teases quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction, he can't keep his lips off you.
"I feel special," you whisper as if you're sharing a secret and Steve's face softens even more. Mike didn't know it was possible for someone to look at another person like that.
"You are special," Steve whispers in that same secretive tone and kisses your forehead. "C'mon pretty, let's get you to bed."
Your words fade into quiet indecipherable whispers and giggles as Steve carries you to and up the staircase and Mike finds himself staring at the empty loveseat. A million thoughts swirling in his head and none at the same time. He's about to sit up when he hears Steve coming down the staircase and immediately closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.
He doesn't know why, he could just pretend he woke up now. He doesn't have to give Steve any indication that he witnessed their intimate moment, but for some reason a part of him believe that waking up now would ruin something. Something he can't quite put words to.
The older teen shuffles around a little, turning off the TV, before coming over to where Mike and Dustin are laying on the floor. Then before Mike knows it Steve is lifting him up and placing him on the couch. He feels like a little kid being carried to bed after falling asleep on the car ride home. Though that only happened once or twice at his mother's insistence, usually his father woke him up to walk inside.
He hears some more shuffling and then the couch dips presumably with Dustin's weight. He hears the sounds of Steve cleaning up trash and crafts, carefully organizing their DND papers as to not be scolded later. Just when he thinks Steve is about to head upstairs a blanket is gently tucked around his shoulders and a damp cloth is pressed to his cheek to wipe the pen marks off.
"Wheeler?" Steve whispers gently, and his body tenses but his eyes don't open.
Noticing the tension in his body, Mike hears Steve let out a huff indicating he's smiling. He tucks the blanket a little tighter and ruffles Mike's hair.
"Go to bed kid."
Steve tucks a blanket around Dustin before flicking off all the lights and setting the heater to a comfortable temperature. Then he quietly creeps upstairs and Mike can hear the soft murmurs of you two speaking. He doesn't need to be in the room to have an idea of what's being said.
he's not slamming into you from the back—no regard, rhyme or reason. not at all. he's cocky, overconfident, sure but that's all before he can get your pants off. because after that he's all round, shiny eyes. hard swallows. pounding chest. he can't imagine how he got here, but he doesn't want you to notice how utterly unworthy he feels so yeah, he'll force an, "oh yeah? feel good?" but the both of you can feel the quiver. like he can't force himself to be how he used to be.
there is no king, here, only a willing man at your feet. he'll try to bury it beneath your moans, make you feel so good you don't notice—its just that you really, really do. when he does turn you around, thinking maybe it's that you're looking at him and he just can't think when you're looking at him, he still can't stop worshipping you. he hesitates, tries to hold back, but he can't help but push your hair or necklace off of your back. hell, maybe he just can't stop his fingers from grazing the skin there, screw an obstruction. it's a slippery slope, though. he knows it. he closes his eyes before he kisses across your shoulder blades like maybe you'll notice the tenderness less. maybe if he can't watch himself do it, it's only inside his head. he asks if you're alright, and when you say you are, only then will he push inside. slow, unsure. until he's fully sheathed. he only really does that so he can press his chest against your back. any proximity is good for him, he's just that desperate. when you're both lost to it, whines and exclamations of pleasure fleeing to the air around you both, he does what he said he wouldn't. he leans forward and slips his hand atop the back of yours. he knows it's intimate, knows what it looks like, but he can't help it. he needs it, needs you. needs something. it grounds you, and you blink open your eyes to see. he can't see that, though, because he's shamefully screwed his eyes shut. you say his name, like a beckon, but he refuses. you'd only have him back if you squeezed his fingers between yours. said his name again, softer. only then would he look at you, brows furrowed and terrified. were you going to make him leave? say it was too much? god he knew it—knew this would be it for the both of you.
then you'd look back, his thrusts erratic and off kilter, and he'd see it. see that you weren't angry, nor disgusted. you weren't pushing him off like he was weird or insane. you were just.. looking. like you'd needed this, too. like with the world drifting put towards absurdity, you wanted an anchor. like steve was it. his mouth would fall slack, his whole body overwhelmed, he'd say your name. once, twice. strained, broken. tears threatening to spill. you'd squeeze his hand again, and breathlessly you'd say, "it's okay. let go."
steve isn't harsh or abrasive—not in the slightest. not when this, this love he has, is at risk of being lost.
robin saying that time slowed down when she saw tammy....the ending shot of will wiping his nose being in slow mo....that shot being from mike's pov......IM GOING CRAZY
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i think about the scene where Will uses his powers every day and i get so unbelievably proud it’s actually insane. like i’m just some girl online. so imagine Mike, watching his boyfriend casually wield supernatural abilities and save the day, being the most geeked-out, heart-eyes, proud boyfriend alive.
wasting time, loving you @applep-e - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
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