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junkissed · 2 years

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mayo sandwiches

member — bf!mingyu x gn reader genre — comfort fluff, est. relationship word count — 1.1k warnings — food mention, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), reader is TIRED but nothing specific about their situation, mingyu is really soft, that's about it it's just comfort notes — lowercase intended, i wrote this in half an hour it literally just exploded out of me, also i definitely cried while writing this, i hope this makes someone feel better today :)

for @onlymingyus, some wholesomeness you deserve it 🫂

one reblog = one mingyu specialty sandwich

“sweetheart, is that you?”

you slide the front door closed with all the strength you can muster and slouch your way to the living room, sighing as you finally sink down into the plush armchair. you let your eyes fall shut, taking just one quiet moment to rest.

you hear mingyu’s voice call your name again, but you ignore him. even your vocal cords are too tired to move after the exhausting day you’ve had, both physically and emotionally.

mingyu appears in the room a moment later. “i thought i heard you come home,” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but it instantly falls when he sees how tired you look. “is everything okay, baby?”

you hum in reply, shaking your head slightly, but don’t elaborate. you don’t need to; mingyu always seems to know exactly what you need without pushing you too much.

“okay,” he says, sitting down on the armrest next to you. he smooths your hair off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear slowly. instinctively you lean further into his hand, and he cradles your head in his arm.

“well, i was gonna make dinner, but we could get takeout instead, that fried chicken you like? maybe watch a movie?” he tries a smile and rubs his other hand gently along your thigh, massaging your tired muscles.

you sigh, the pain in your legs slowly beginning to subside as his tender fingers work their magic on you. “honestly, gyu, baby, i just want a sandwich.”

“mmkay.”

your eyes still closed, you feel the seat lift as he stands, giving your thigh one more stroke.

you hear his soft footsteps shuffle out of the room, and it occurs to you that despite how big and tall a man he is, he has the most gentle presence you’ve ever seen. each little touch is laced with a kind of sweetness all his own, and it makes you feel so lucky, knowing firsthand how much love is stored in his big, burly body.

you start to feel yourself falling asleep, but you fight to stay awake a little longer, for mingyu’s sake. it feels like only a few seconds have passed, but soon you hear him return, padding into the living room with a soft “sweetheart…”

you finally pry open your eyes to see him standing above you, plate in hand.

“here you go,” he says, handing the plate down to you, along with a neatly folded paper napkin. “ham, mayo, lettuce, the way you like it.”

you reach out and take it from him, managing a weak smile when you see the familiar joy in his eyes at doing something good for you. he’s always been good to you; never when you ask for it, but always when you need it.

you sit up a little straighter in the chair, setting the napkin on your lap. as your eyes begin to focus, you don’t miss the way he’s cut your sandwich neatly into triangles. you mentioned in passing once that you liked your sandwiches cut like that, and he’s made them that way ever since.

as you pick up part of the sandwich to take a bite, he gets up and moves towards the edge of the room, sliding the dimmer switch on the wall down a bit.

“thought it might be too bright,” he says shyly when you glance up at him. “you seem like you need some rest.”

“mhm,” you reply, chewing, savoring each small bite. it’s such a simple thing, but mingyu makes perfect sandwiches every single time. always the right proportions, never too much mayo, and just enough lettuce. it’s as if you can feel the time and care he puts into prepping it exactly how you like, the very best quality he has to offer you.

right now, if you had to choose, you’d say this one is the best sandwich you’ve had in a long time. probably your entire life. the meal, or mingyu, or maybe both, are slowly helping you regain your energy, and you find the strength to bring your legs up and sit cross-legged on the chair, the plate balanced in your lap.

mingyu’s sat at the couch next to your chair, watching you eat. it’s awkward, you admit, but his presence is comforting. even when you don’t have the energy to do much more than sit and grunt responses, he looks at you like you created the world with your bare hands, the corners of his mouth upturned in an infatuated smile he probably doesn’t even realize he’s smiling.

feeling a little better, you finish your sandwich and start to uncross your legs to stand, but before you can get very far mingyu jumps up to stop you.

“i got it,” he says, taking the plate from your hands. “don’t you worry about anything.”

you give him a smile, this time a little brighter, and he grins his puppy dog grin and walks back to the kitchen to wash your plate.

while he’s out of the room you get up and move to the couch, sliding the blanket that hangs on the back of it off and onto your lap. when mingyu returns his whole face lights up, seeing you next to his spot on the couch.

“still want to watch a movie?” you ask, suppressing a small yawn.

he nods, still grinning, and turns the lights all the way down before taking his place beside you. “if that’s what you want, honey,” he says as he relaxes into the cushions and spreads his arm out along the back of the couch, inviting you to move in closer.

you snuggle into his side, leaning your head back into his collarbone and wrapping the blanket around the both of you.

a comfortable quiet hangs in the air as the tv plays softly in the background, barely noticeable save for the flickering lights cutting through the dark.

you sigh, letting your eyes fall shut again. “thank you,” you mumble through another yawn.

he brushes his arm around you, pulling you a little bit closer onto his lap. he doesn’t respond, and you don’t need him to. you just want this moment to last forever, cuddled up, enjoying every second you have with this perfect man and his perfect smile and his perfect sandwiches.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!

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#svthub #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #seventeen imagines #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu #seventeen #i hope mingyu gives u all the sandwiches in the world ily mars #m: mingyu #g: seventeen #c: fluff #🌃 : june.writes

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xdinaryheroes · 8 months

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the adventures of koala jiseok 🐨

bonus:

#gaon #gunil #o.de #xdinary heroes #xdinarynet #jypartists #*m #*g #i wasnt sure how to format this hhhh i hope this makes sense if u havent watched the vid

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nonnieapple · 7 months

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⛈☂ Strings☂⛈

• (Marshall Lee x reader) • r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 2 4 2 5 w o r d s • p o s t e d 24.09.2023 🌧 navigation • s u m m a r y: marshall likes snooping around, and you like peace and quiet.

The rain fell on the grasslands of Aaa and surrounding areas. The animals in the forests hid under trees, candy citizens ran into bars, and Marshall Lee floated high off the ground.

He floated to the empty Tree House. The willow branches dripped with cold water and glistened like rhinestones. He tapped on the glass. No one answered. Adjusting his jacket and turning invisible, he let himself in, prying the glass up with his claws. It opened with a slight screech. He flew in, shaking the raindrops off his leather jacket.

The water dropped to the wooden ground. He looked up and flinched, turning visible as he was met with a figure on the couch in the kitchen.

They held a left-handed guitar made of bone, decorated with worn stickers. They held a pick shaped like a heart as they strummed out chords of Francis Forver, strumming the e-string angrily each time they messed up, concentrating so hard it was almost intimidating.

Marshall floated above them as he zipped up one of his pockets.

You jolted up, stopped playing, nearly dropped your guitar, and with wide eyes watched as some guy appeared in front of you.

He had mint skin, black hair wet from the rain, black and red eyes you never got used to, and an expression that confused you. Maybe fear, or worry. You screamed, and he did as well. It was Marshall Lee- kind of a friend of a friend with whom you occasionally crossed paths.

Kinda a person you thought was mad cool, but not someone you were close with.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. His voice was calm and bordering on deep. You hadn't heard him speak much, and it was startling.

You raised a brow.

"I could ask you the same question!" You jabbed.

He floated down, eyes staring at your instrument.

"Nice guitar." He bent over to inspect it. You pulled away. His tone was between mocking and impressed. Personal space breached, raise the grimace shields.

He was acting quite calm. You were, too. Internally, though, you screamed, your heartbeat wild, hands drumming on your thighs.

"Um... thanks? Did Fionna invite you over?" You changed your posture from a slouch to the straightest and stiffest pose known to Aaa. Even your tone was stiff. You weren't a person who was comfortable with others around, often becoming a robotic, clumsy mess, and you were even worse with people you barely knew. Cool people you barely knew? Instant death.

"Nope."

Your face flashed with concern. Marshall wasn't... malicious, but he was trouble, and glob forbid he dragged you into some antics. Can't a guy practice some guitar on a rainy afternoon?

"As LSP would say, I'm crashing." He shrugged casually.

You strummed your guitar. It was still connected to your demonic amp. The amount of demons you had to fight to get that thing was crazy. But it was worth it. The sound was clear, the controls were precise, and it sounded otherworldly, especially with deadstortion.

He floated near you and nearly stood on his feet. The silence hung in the air as your eyes drifted around the kitchen.

"Mind if I try?" He spoke gently, far more soft compared to his usual sass. It could be something he put on in front of groups of people. Or maybe your deer-in-headlights demeanor was enough to make even him more careful.

Your eyes fell on him and you folded your arms, not before gesturing to the instrument swiftly.

"Uh no, go ahead." You nodded and raised your shoulders, tense.

Marshall scooped it into his arms. It fit great. His long fingers spanned across the frets nicely. He had hands made for playing guitar, and that made you envious. Even with practice, you couldnʼt reach so far. He positioned himself, floating mid-air.

Your face was a mix of curiosity and surprise.

"No pick? Just... fingers?" You raised a brow, the words coming out faster than you thought. He laughed lightly, and you flushed.

"I'm good with them." You choked on air as you sat stiffly, stifling a nervous laugh. If you were flushed before, now all your blood was definitely in your awkward face.

He strummed and his long ears perked up at the sound.

"You're left-handed?" He bit the edges of his black lips, positioning his fingers. He didn't need to take so long doing all that. He was stalling. Curious.

"Not quite. A dragon tore off one of my left fingertips, so I can't hold down the frets without gross pain," You rambled quietly as you rested against the red cushions.

He played what was definitely, unmistakably Misirlou. You had to close your mouth at the speed of his wrist. Looking at that shit was enough to give your wrist a sprain.

He lifted his hands, holding the guitar loosely as he stared in your general direction expectantly. You cleared your throat.

"You seem good at left-handed playing. I've only seen you play right before." Marshall's expression flashed disappointment for a second before returning to a chill one.

"I've had a thousand years to learn, if I couldn't play either, that would be embarrassing." He smiled. Damn, that guitar suited him...

"Same with money... imagine being poor after like a thousand years..." You tapped on the table, lost in thought, partially about vampires, but mostly about a vampire.

"I can't, I own half of Aaa and my mom is the ruler of the Nightosphere. I used to own this Tree House!" He motioned to a part of the tree, and objects lifted to reveal an M carved into it.

"I remember that. I wasn't there but I heard about it." You nodded.

"Guess you've heard a lot about me?" He lifted his brows.

"Quite a- oooh. I get it."

"Get what?" A grin tugged at his lips.

"That wasn't an actual question, was it?" You squinted up with a smug expression.

"Wow. Pretty and smart. Package deal," He said with the perfect delivery- just the right amount of casualness for the line to be missed unless you were paying attention. And you indubitably were; you dearly hoped he didn't notice and you came off as cool and mysterious. Your flush and rigidity betrayed your discomfort.

Marshall passed you your guitar, and you leaned on it with your elbow, brushing hair away from your face as you looked around the room, searching for something interesting.

Dishes. Fridge. Your shaky hands. Paintings. Tree bark. A bug in the corner. Inevitably, your eyes fell back on Marshall. Your attention jumped from his clothes to his hair, to his inhuman features.

"Why are you staring?" You blanched and your expression fell. You met his eyes. If you looked down you'd be even more suspicious.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Your eyes are...." You trailed off. Shit. You weren't looking at his globdamn eyes, but you weren't about to say "Nice cock, bro".

"Horrifying? Demonic?" You swore he floated closer to you. You recoiled, pursing your lips.

"Interesting."

Good save, idiot.

His arrogant little facade faded, replaced by tired disappointment.

"It's also interesting how you're already tall but still float."

He shrugged.

"Alright, I'll bite." He stood on the ground. You finally got a good look at his frame and height, and man was that good look good. Every part of him was long and slim, from his ears to his eyes and fingers, and who else knows what. You slapped yourself internally at the thought.

He sat down next to you, setting his right calf onto his left thigh. He inclined his head.

"Not literally." He flashed the tips of his fangs. He fished a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, turning to you and slicking back his drying hair.

"You want some?"

You grimaced.

"No. and you shouldn't smoke inside. And this shit is bad for your vocal health." The rain still raged on, yet it felt like a calming ambiance when in the comfort of the Tree House.

"Aww, come on. Just once," He beckoned sweetly, nearing your face, feigning demonic puppy eyes. You shook your head. He set them down on the couch, as well as a red lighter. So much of his stuff was red. It was like if you had everything made outta food.

"It's like murder. It's a slippery slope."

You bounced your leg, checking your phone. You scrolled through your notifications. As empty as your heart.

"Sometimes I check my messages and realize just how bitchless I am..."

"Can't relate. I have lots of friends and messages...." He spread his arms over the backboard, gesturing in the air as his eyes wandered. He had a real soulful expression, as though he was speaking of glob itself.

Marshall dropped his arms, sighed, and frowned.

"Okay, yeah, I don't have anyone close to me. Sure I hang out with people but I'm kind of a loner," He admitted quietly, reminiscent of your insecure and anxious tone.

"You saw me earlier. I'm not much of a loner as much as I am a loser..."

"That's where we're different. But together we make a lone loser." He gestured to his unbeating heart, speaking like a damn motivational speaker. You smiled.

"Perfect."

A silence lingered. If not for the raging storm out, you would've heard the caw of a cyclops crow.

The silence turned strange as you made prolonged eye contact. Your proximity sent you into a fever. He didn't have any warmth- it felt like you had stolen all of it at once.

You tore your gaze away, opening up a portal with your pick and putting your guitar in. Marshall's eyes widened and he jerked in surprise.

"Where did that go?!" His voice strained against serenity.

"Uhhh I put it in its case. Between the Nightosphere-" You lifted your hand.

"The Nightosphere?" He interrupted with worry.

"-And the deadworlds. Let me finish." You readjusted yourself, unamused.

"Oh, I'll let you finish alright. Not like that. Are you finished?"

Your mouth was agape.

"You made that a lot worse than it was. Yes, I'm done."

You would never forget the awkwardness that plagued you throughout that whole interaction. It would forever be embedded in your cringing bones.

You browsed on your phone, refreshing your conversation with Fionna. No updates. Not even a bad meme. Sad.

Your arms rested on the table as you set your phone face down. You contemplated making tea.

"Why haven't we talked much before?"

That was a difficult question. You braced yourself as you turned your head to him just a tad.

"Honestly? I was... afraid of you. Not because of the demon vampire thing," You quickly defended yourself.

"That's surprising..." Marshall mumbled.

"Sorry." He raised his arms defensively.

"But because you're... I'm gonna sound stupid." You laid face down and laughed nervously, in sync with the drops hitting the windows.

"I doubt that. You're not Fionna."

The corners of your mouth tilted up, and you shot the vampire a dirty look.

"Shut up!" You laughed hollowly, surprised by his little joke.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

"You're cool, and I thought you were better than interacting with someone like me." The words did sound stupid coming out of your mouth. The thoughts were completely irrational.

"Someone with mutual interests and more to talk about than hacking monsters or angry exes?" He quirked a brow.

"I'm not trying to rationalize it. Also, I have plenty of exes to talk about." You raised your phone.

Marshall's face was practically begging you to not.

"Please don't."

"Fine. You're safe. For now. One was a demon." You glared at a picture of them with you. He peeked over your shoulder.

"That's interesting...."

"You said not to talk about it." You leaned on your palm, feigning disinterest.

"I take it back, come on! Don't leave me hanging," He asked desperately, ghosting his black claws over your now upright back. You shuffled away.

"You'll have to beg-"

Your phone buzzed. You hummed with displeasure, reading the message right away.

"Glob. You gotta go, Fionna will be here soon," You urged as you stood up, straightening out your clothes and stretching as you paced around the room. Marshall paused for a second and decided to stand up.

"You're right. No fun getting caught." He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking to the window. You watched his movements carefully as he opened up the window, putting his foot on the ledge, and floating, defying gravity.

As he left, you were hit with a lot of. A lot. Just, a lot.

You put the kettle on the stove, sitting on the counter, relaxing, finally.

You had always... wanted to hang out with him, but, damn, you didn't think it'd happen. And he wasn't as intimidating as he came off! You felt all funny inside, still absolutely high off the adrenalin of it all. When you saw him appear it was like your body got restarted.

The water began to boil, and you poked at dry leaves of colorful tea.

You were surprised as Marshall flew back in. You didn't have time to process a thing. He observed you as you lounged with owlish eyes. He picked up his lighter and cigarettes. He hadn't looked away.

"Forgot these." He glanced from the objects to you. He headed for the window again. He hesitated.

"These aren't tobacco, you know."

You raised your brows. He flew out as the front door rattled and Fionna and Cake yelled loudly. You waved to Marshall, only to see that he was gone, and the window was open.

You sat like a statue with a mystified gaze.

The kettle whistled and Fionna waved her hand in front of your face.

Did you fumble or did you fumble hard? Maybe if you had taken the offer, something else would be ha...

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Cake frowned, poking your knee. You moved the kettle and Fionna turned off the stove.

"No, I saw a... yep, saw a ghost. A cool ghost," You replied breathlessly and somewhat robotically as you finally managed to focus on the two. You poured hot water from the kettle into your favorite mug. It had a cat on it. Dropping tea leaves into the water, you watched as the leaves seeped a bright ruby, and swirled with darker, near-black swirls.

Rain still poured outside, albeit it was far calmer than previously. You hoped Marshall was fine.

You held up two more mugs. You smiled awkwardly.

"Anyone want tea?"

#☂️#w r i t i n g #a d v e n t u r e t i m e #adventure time #marshall lee x reader #marshall lee

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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 months

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SUPER FLIRTY prince x FLUSTERED maid but make it really suggestive!! u can change the genders or prns if you want

His laugh was soft but died when she put a finger on the swollen flesh on his back. He couldn't hold back the moan and neither the curse.

"You know, Your Royal Highness, you would spare us all from sorrows if you weren't this reckless," she said and he buried his head in the pillows. Admittedly, he had been a fool. He had been told several times that he was good at hunting and riding. It was one of the few royal activities he actually enjoyed.

He had gotten cocky. Earlier today, once he had made sure that his maid was watching, he had tried to look especially heroic during the hunt.

In the end, too drunk on the thought of making her blush, he had fallen off his horse and landed on the hard stones of a shallow stream. She had been the one to save him from drowning in knee-deep water. She had been the one to find and calm down his horse an hour later. She was the one who was observing his wound now.

His face burnt.

"Where would be the fun in that?" he asked.

"The fun would include you being alive."

"Aw, you care about me." She let her finger touch his red skin again and he hissed, squeezing the pillow hard. He was glad his face was pressed against it. He was embarrassed for his dumb decision. But at least, her fingers were on his back and even though it hurt, he loved to feel her kindness.

"I care about the heir of my kingdom."

"Ouch." The next time her fingers were on his back, he flinched. The salve she had mixed together was colder than last time. But he was quiet this time. Her fingers went over his back, over his shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this safe. Probably when she had stitched a wound on his leg a month ago.

Although, he had to admit, that had been much more stressful with her face close to his crotch.

"Are you not going to make any comments?" she asked and he could hear the smile when she spoke.

"Don't tell me you actually like it when I do that?"

"I am just wondering why you're being so quiet today," she said. Her fingers travelled down his back and his eyes widened involuntarily.

"I am thinking about your fingers. And where I would love to feel them," he said. He loved to make her blush but today, for whatever reason, he was the one who couldn't get rid of his hot face. She stopped going down his spine and he lifted his head. "Why did you stop?"

He caught a glimpse of her face. She worried her lips between her teeth.

"Oh, I...apologies. I was not-"

"I am starting to think that you enjoy touching me as much as I do."

She giggled nervously. "Well, I..."

"And I also think that you're searching for excuses to do so sometimes." She looked as if he had caught her in the middle of stealing something. He could only smile.

"Lay next to me?" he suggested and she didn't even hesitate to join him in bed. He made enough room for her but somehow when both of them shifted, he ended up on top of her. He looked down at her pretty lashes. His back still hurt but in a good way. "I like you."

Her hand found his biceps and he swore he saw the stars.

"You have got to be more careful," she said. "I feel like you do these things on purpose so I nurse you back to health."

"Well, what do you expect from me? When you have such gentle hands?" He lowered his voice. "When I would give away the throne to a total stranger, just to hear your laugh one more time?"

"Your Royal Highness, I..." Her eyes dropped to his lips.

"Every wound feels sweet when you're the one taking care of it, I fail to put into words what you mean to me." His heart was drumming in his chest and he was overwhelmed by the feeling of her hands on his biceps travelling up to his shoulders. He wanted to build churches dedicated to her with his bare hands. "You have always been more than a maid, more than a friend."

"You're not supposed to say these things out loud," she said but her hands found his face.

"I refuse to whisper them." And with that, she pulled him down gently and kissed him over and over again until he asked himself who was the royal and who was the servant here.

#g-g-g-g-gender #dont u just love it when your boy tries to impress u I do I do hihihi #writing snippet #request #an answer for an ask #kingdoms and royalty #m/f #princexmaid #prince x maid #maid x prince #maidxprince

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emblazons · 1 year

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Thinking about how people who only (or primarily) understand Mike’s arc through a “hes queer and coming to accept it / struggling with heteronormativity/will get his happy ending when he gets with Will” lens are missing at least half of what defines his arc in the wider context / themes of the show.

Forewarning: long post (& also maybe an unpopular opinion)

Even as a queer person myself, I know that his arc isn’t solely about embracing his queerness (though it’s inherently interlinked). In Mike, you have a character who is being radically challenged by both external circumstances and his own decisions through a journey away from all kinds of forced conformity (social, familial, romantic & heteronormative) and into someone self actualized enough to live how they want…while also being strong enough to accept that they made mistakes along the way. Someone who is learning to be brave enough to say “this is who I am, what I enjoy, and what/who I love…and while it took me a lot of time to figure it out, now I can exist in the world embracing that even though it will take consistently resisting the tendency to accommodate people who think it’s unacceptable.”

Like. Even from a time before puberty (see: S3) Mike wants a life that stands apart from what’s expected of him in every area, not just in choosing a romantic relationship with another guy. He wants to continue to be a nerd and “child at heart” even though something else is repeatedly demanded of him by everyone from his parents to El in his romantic relationship. He wants to be a writer and someone who takes those nerdy interests into his adult life (cue aggressive gesturing toward the duffers themselves) and grates against all that’s been constructed for him even when he’s not (yet) brave enough to challenge it directly. Mike liking boys/loving Will is just “the final nail in the coffin” of his social and societal nonconformity—not the first (or the last) aspect of what makes him different from Hawkins or the life he was made to believe would suit him best.

Even the fact that Mike has a desire to be “normal” comes from an insecurity and fear that choosing what he truly wants will lead to him being outcasted and losing the people he cares for entirely—which is partially motivated by his queerness yes, but that also has a basis in his general interests and personality…which becomes especially obvious when you realize we are repeatedly shown that he is punished/has his wishes ignored in all areas he doesn’t conform, even long before we get into a plot where it’s clearer he likes boys.

We see it in how his parents have already started to demand he put boundaries on the time he spends playing his “childhood games” the very first scene of season one, how they demand social acceptable emotions from him when Will is missing, and how Karen & Ted want him to give up toys in S2 when he’s showing signs of depression (because they think the issue is him growing up, not that he’s struggling with loss or guilt for what happened to El).

We see it in how his own father comments about taking his CA trip away from him after calling Hellfire being a group for “dropouts” in S4 (implying that he is failing on an academic and social level that matters to wheelers—and that Nancy is good at).

We even see it in the way everyone from his bullies to his own girlfriend threaten and take things away from him when he doesn’t conform to social expectations...from Troy telling him to jump off the cliff to save Dustin in S1 (as punishment for the one time Mike stands up for himself in the gymnasium) to El jumping straight into breaking up with him and spying on him when he doesn’t do exactly what she wants him to in Season 3.

All of these moments are critical to understanding Mike as a person because they show us that, even without addressing his queerness, Mike’s desire to conform to socialized expectations involves but is not solely about him moving out of heteronormativity—it’s about him moving against everything that WASP, patriarchal, heteronormative and capitalistic and performative “wholesome American” values…and how he is learning to move past the fear of what will happen if he steps outside the lines in general, even though he already knows he hates those standards.

Mike’s “coming of age” arc is about finding the strength to choose the “path less traveled” in all areas of his life—even when it means (potentially) losing the support of the people he cares about. It’s about starting from a place of privilege and becoming okay with being outcasted from it in a way your insecurities never let you be before (which is inherently different than Will, who has always been shown to have some kind of support not just for his queerness but his artistic endeavors as well). Mike’s lack of support is why he starts from a place of deep insecurity, yes—but it’s also why him learning power of choosing to be himself, even if it means “losing” people when he’s honest about who (& what) he is will be universally powerful.

You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of what it means to know you will be okay even if people leave you. You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of stepping outside social expectations or your family’s way of raising you. You don’t even need to be queer to understand the weight of breaking up with someone you were only with to satisfy what you thought you should do, rather than be with who you want to.

The power of being strong enough to overcome your insecurities in order to “step out of line” and live and love as you want to is universal, and a stunningly brave choice no matter what or why you chose to do so. The fact that Will will be there waiting to love him in that honesty with himself is beautiful, yes—but it’s not the only lesson to be learned for Mike’s character.

Mike starting out with everything the world (or, at least America) tells would make you happy, realizing he is not happy with those things and rejecting them knowing it might have consequences is what makes his arc powerful, because he is learning (exactly like his sister Nancy) to be brave enough to accept those consequences (which for him are getting dumped, and feeling like he’s being left behind by some of his friends) to follow his own heart.

Even though The Duffers aren’t writing this into a tragic ending (aka: he’s not going to die or be left alone, because the duffers writing is inherently designed ro champion the outcast), these are the things that have (and will) make him relatable even to an audience that doesn’t know queerness. Erasing the fact that his lesson is the bravery it takes to follow your heart solely to talk about him liking guys (even Will) is to undermine his humanity, and the lessons to be learned from him by even the most general an audience.

TL:DR - the heteronormative aspect of Mike’s character is not the sole or even inherent issue within Mike, though heteronormativity is inherently built into his struggle.

There are deep dives on how his arc is also about a war against toxic patriarchy, toxic masculinity, emphasis on capitalistic and academic accomplishments over artistic ones, and even conformist relationships (whether they’re queer or not) that should be explored for his character—and I for one like him too much not to move out of just “this boy is queer because xyz” and into “let’s talk about Mike in terms of the wider scope of his cultural context and upbringing.” 🤷🏽‍♀️😂

#imma go watch the Oscars now but #i know people mean NO HARM in focusing on the heteronormative part of his arc because on tumblr esp that is inherently relatable but #it’s not the only thing that makes his character interesting!#and it’s not the only thing he’s struggling with in his ‘coming of age!’#understanding white masculinity in America on a wider scale is SUPER helpful to understanding Mike #and in that sense Reddit is actually pretty good at catching his drift—THEY JUST DONT REALIZE THE DUFFERS ARE U N D E R M I N I N G it #erasing Mike’s queerness is to do him a disservice. I absolutely believe this.#but to deny every other part of him that isn’t just expected to be straight is to oversimplify him aggressively #you need BOTH to understand him #which is why you need both El and Will to make sense of his struggle lmao #(I still 100% believe he’s gay not bi)#(but him dating a girl was necessary to make sense of understanding that aspect of socialized expectations).#ANYWAY. Sorry for the rant lmao #mike wheeler core #mike wheeler #my st commentary #byler #< target audience #stranger things

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