#rip mike wheeler you would also love i would by one direction

[astrobei]

rip mike wheeler you would’ve loved boyfriend by big time rush

[cherryisgone]

So I read your fic 'darling, all the while' and I loved it! The angst, the tension between Mike and Will was so so good...I felt it in my bones. Since there is a dearth of Mike's POV in ST in the later seasons, it was such a relief to read what he is feeling, through your story.

I love it when writers give an idea what the characters were listening/ watching... so thank you for introducing me to Jo Stafford's music (and will soon get to The Lost Boys). You are a kind soul. Also, it is so clever of you to include a movie with a Michael, to add to the drama! Love your brain!

I would like to quote my favorite lines:

"It looks like something Will would like to paint." I love that Mike is reminded of Will when he sees something so simple that Will would like or paint.

"It’s just Will." I loved the rhythm and the beat to this whole portion where he is calming his nerves down. You captured Mike's so emotions well.

"Everything feels softer around Will, even Mike. Especially Mike, with his middle child attention-seeking rowdiness and all his sharp angles.   Sometimes he’s afraid to cut right through Will, hold tight enough to crack, to break. He’s done that before. He's hand-picking his words now, dulling his edges, carving a path for his heart to spill freely because Will Byers deserves nothing less. Because despite everything there’s still a softness and a warmth to him where anyone else would have gone jagged-edged and cold." The imagery associated with Mike and Will is so well connected to their characters. Yes, anyone else would have reacted coldly and lost hope, but not our dear Will.

"Mike’s the cloak of shadows it takes for Will’s light to shine." The D&D language shining through here.

"It’s in car-crash moments like these, sudden and heartstopping, that Mike asks himself how he could ever be so blind." Oh, you seriously put car-crash with heartstop, I see, I see what you did there.

"A soft tap catches his attention and Mike looks up in the direction of El’s bedroom window – she’s there in a flowery summer dress, waving and smiling at him" Even in a 5 second appearance, El is so charismatic.

"It feels prophetic in a way, foretelling. There’s a storm coming and there’s a storm inside Mike, too. He hopes it’s not foreboding, too, refuses to believe he might have read any of this wrong, that lighting is gonna crash down and so are they. Crash and burn." I love when writers are able to connect the weather with the emotions of the characters. So beautiful.

"It makes him feel nauseous and brings a dull ache in his bones, an echo of all that he has broken and cracked to fit in his assigned Mike Wheeler-shaped space. Makes him feel like the bad guy, like a bad person." Omg, the angst in the words!

"Like cloud watching laying on soft green grass, like running barefoot in an open field during a storm, drenched to the bone with a metal heart in your ripped-open chest and one hundred percent chance of being struck by lightning.)" How are you creating magic with your words, cherryisgone?

" Mike’s heart feels brittle; it feels like a crime scene: caught in love, all glowing red and blue with sirens going off in the distance." Oh Mike!!!! I understand how you feel!

"He’s openly staring – there’s no denying what he’s doing, his shamelessness." Wow Mike, I didn't think you had it in you.

"And it’s exhilarating, sends sparks from the tip of his fingers up to his heart like touching naked wires." Awwww...

A one person staring contest is going on, Omg! I love this part!

"He’s tired of carrying these feelings around – heavier than stones and lighter than birds, always trying to flee away from his hands, his ribs too loose to hold them in any longer." The heaviness of those feelings are so apt!

You know, I would thought that Will would be concerned that Mike doesn't stand too much in the rain, but I love this teasing version of Will more! "Will parts his lips in mock surprise, raises his eyebrows in fake concern, “Really?” His eyes twinkle. Brat."

"How Will can go from a flustered mess to movie star beautiful just leaning out a car window is beyond Mike." Will is too beautiful Mike, always has been.

The lines you picked for the summary are the best!! So angsty!

"His voice is pulled too tight at the edges, but only because Mike knows where to look, otherwise Will sounds unaffected. It infuriates him suddenly, anger sparks hot-red in his stomach at how damn good Will Byers is at pretending, hiding, saying without saying." Will is so good at hiding, I love how you weaved the canonical things about Will into this so well.

"He wants to trash the hermetic doors of Will’s mind." I like this word hermetic... sounds so apt for Will.

"My hands were there, too. It’s a ridiculous thought." That's so sweet, Mike! Exactly how a new lover would have thought.

"(He knows why Will’s not saying anything. It’s because there’s nothing left for him to add, nothing to draw from the bottom of the well; everything’s been left spilled and running on dusty desert ground from the hood of a junkyard car. Bleeding in the back of a stuffy pizza van; flooding the floor of a blood-splattered skating rink.)" Oh no, you are making me cry!

"Even when the earth was shifting beneath them and the ground was opening to pull them apart Mike still knew Will; knew all his soft spots, knew where to hit to cause critical damage, how to draw the most blood. A vein pulses inside him, pumps shame and regret thick as mud." So much power in one person's hand!

"You. Plain and simple, written in Mike’s messy handwriting and underlined twice floating in the too-much, too-little space between them." I love it when writers focus on writing as part of the character's inner monologue, since Mike is a writer, so apt here.

I love actual conversation scenes between characters- discussion on flying is so interesting, even though it is small.

I loved how you placed Mike's memory of his mother singing here and then he starts flirting with Will. I love how you bring in the lyrics later in the story.

" he never meant to be this cruel to Will, to prod at his heart with the morbid curiosity of a child playing with roadkill."

"He wants to say too many things, wants to slam the door open and stand in the rain until he dissolves and nothing is left of Mike Wheeler" "Perhaps go stand in the rain for a while?”" I love the mirroring of thoughts here!!

"Threads of his speech unravel, fade into wisps of smoke."

I love this curveball that you threw with the blood pacts story! Totally unexpected!!! "Lucas brought that old hunting knife" I love this detail, because Lucas's grandpa would definitely have one. "If this is an attempt at delaying the inevitable, Mike’s having none of this bullshit."

“It can be scary to get what you want after wanting it for so long,” I definitely cried at this one.

"Drunk on the feeling of being wanted by the right person."

"Remembers a child's fear of being struck by lightning, his stubborn refusal to get outside the house when the weatherman promised heavy rain, unshakable in his kindergarten certainty that lightning would find him and shock him to death. Evaporate all his blood in a single strike."

"Deep down there’s still a frightened kid on his first day of kindergarten staking a claim, making a promise. Running around Mike’s ribcage screaming with delightful glee You’re mine, you’re mine! You’re still mine!" I love how you put in another memory of Mike with what's happening so beautifully.

(I'm sorry for the super long message.) I enjoyed your work so much!

sorry for taking this long to reply, it's not like I have asks piling up in askbox,. it's just I had no idea what to say if not an infinite string of thank you.

It's always a joy when people highlight their favourite lines, it's like seeing my writing through different lenses and you quoted so many! Some of which are actually my faves.

The movie playing was a fortunate coincidence, actually. I don't watch many movies but I happed go watch the Lost Boys before starting the fic; and ofc a drive-in story required a movie. You can only imagine my delight when I discovered the date of release of the film actually made sense with the timeline. I was like "well, the stars aligned, guess I'll write the fic 🙏🏻"

And the "car-crash moment" is something I'm very partial to. When I was 17 I went to a international English school in Dublin and we had a class on metaphors. I was assigned "love is [blank]" which I filled with "love is a car-crash" and idk, that just stuck with me overtime. I'm dramatic like that ✨ (I actually witnessed a car-crash one year later and yeah, not that romantic)

I create magic with words you say? Well you create tears with that comment, readerofportrait. I just happen to love pretty words and images; I literally constructed whole sentences around words I liked and decided to use just bc of the way they sounded! And i love to have nature and the weather mirror the characters' inner state - I'm a gothic writer at heart 🖤

And i actually adore how you describe Mike staring at Will as a "one person staring contest". Never thought of it that way!

What I enjoy abt this fic is that I believe there's a bit of everything - teasing, banter, pining, angst, confession, softness, anger, nerdiness, lust even. And I'm really glad you too enjoyed so many aspects of it.

I honestly cried the first time I read this ask bc it's just made me so happy. I like writing, I know that, but it's in moments like this, when I can see the effect my words have on other people that I remember I don't just like writing but love it.

So thank you for reminding me, thank you for reading the story and taking the time to leave such a heartwarming comment. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 💙

[maximoff-pan]

hi!!!!! how about an AU scene where everyone is happy and safe (the kids, steve, nancy, eddie, etc.) and they’re just down in the wheeler’s basement playing DnD??? bonus points if there’s something going on between eddie and the reader… whether it’s an established relationship or they’re just pining besties is up to you oh great one ;)

me??? oh great one??? this is going to be fun…

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warning(s): no real spoilers except for the fact that Eddie exists in this :)

quick a/n: now, bear with me… I haven’t finished season 4 vol. 1 yet, but I fell so in love with Eddie’s character, that when someone sent me this, I just had to write it. I’m sorry if it doesn’t make a ton of sense, or if the characters are a little out of character, or if this would never happen in the show. This is more of a cute, almost au scene, but I hope you like it!

I also left it on a bit of a cliffhanger (ish) ending so you can imagine it however you like ;)

“Why is it,” you tilt your head quizzically, arms leaning forward on the large table in front of you, “that whenever there’s a campaign to play,” your voice drifts towards Eddie, “you always end up being the dungeon master?”

His stare is blank, as if offended you’d even ask that question. Gaze narrowing on you, his forehead crinkles as he brings his brows up in protest, “Because I’m the best.”

And he’s not wrong. Everyone at this table, including you, knows just how much effort he puts into D&D, spending hours planning to make it fun for each player. But as much as you’re aware of his skill as a dungeon master, you like to screw with him even more.

“Or is it,” you speculate mockingly, a mischievous twinkle glimmering in your eyes, “because you need to have control?”

“Ouch,” Steve nearly chokes on a laugh from beside you, leaving Nancy grinning widely on your other side. “Hit him where it hurts Sigmund.”

Eddie splutters at the nickname. He’s always hated the concept of Freud’s psychoanalysis, as little as he did pay attention to it in class. And it certainly doesn’t help when you’re the one behind the use of said psychological techniques. You’re trying to get into his head, trying to throw him off his game. It’s almost working. But as the gaze of many pairs of eyes turns to him, waiting for his response, Eddie does what he does best. He uses humour, pulling himself together nicely.

Being the competitive person he is, he’s sure as hell not about to fall victim to your teasing. Two can play at that game, he thinks.

Everyone watches on as a smirk spreads from one corner of his lips to the other, his jaw relaxing ever so slightly. “I thought you liked it when I was controlling.”

You scoff outwardly, a laugh bubbling in your throat, while simultaneously attempting to hide your embarrassment. This isn’t the first time Eddie has shot you a suggestive comment in order to watch you fall apart. You’re more than aware of how flirty his personality is, and while you’ve certainly adjusted to it over the years you’ve been friends with him, that doesn’t mean the flirting doesn’t get to you sometimes. 

From beside Eddie, Dustin’s reaction is much more crude, “Fucking ew,” he says, his face scrunching up in disgust, “I did not need to hear that.”

“None of us did.” Mike shoots a pointed look in Eddie’s direction, very much sharing his friend’s obvious distaste at the utterance. 

“Honestly Munson,” Max drawls, speaking for the first time today. She’s stopped picking her nails, you notice, a habit she resorts to when she’s bored. Suddenly Eddie’s offhanded wisecrack has piqued her interest, gripping the air out of the room. And much to Mike and Dustin’s dismay, she’s not about to let it go, putting their game indefinitely on pause.

“You’re all bark,” she continues, “and no bite.”

Eddie recoils, the confidence ripped from his tone. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Steve grins wildly, catching on swiftly. “It means,” he drags out his words slowly, brown orbs glowing in devilry. “You’re all talk.”

You’re starting to realize where this conversation is going, and you’re not sure you like it. As much as you’re usually game for a good bit of teasing, seeing as you started this whole situation, this is headed into dangerous territory, especially for you. Because, while you’d be the first to admit the feelings you hold for your best friend to yourself, you’d be the last person to ever admit it to him. 

And you’re fairly certain everyone here knows just how you feel about him, and just how much those comments effect you.

Max’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “How many times are you going to say those kinds of things before you actually act on it?” Her deep blue gaze is piercing straight into Eddie. “It’s pathetic.”

“Me? Pathetic?” Eddie tuts, his eyes widening in surprise. “Those two words just don’t go together.” 

Max crosses her hands across her chest, standing now, peering over the older teen. “Oh?” She challenges. “Then prove it.”

Eddie rises from his seat, heart beating out of his chest. “Okay.” He says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced about what he’s about to do. “I, uh,” any semblance of confidence he had, has now completely deflated. “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Steve cuts in airily.

From your seat, your foot meets Steve shin, and he groans in pain. You shoot him an icy look, one that warns him to tread carefully. “Jeez.” He says. “We were only playing around.”

You know they’re only teasing Eddie on your behalf, because they know how much you like him, but it’s for that reason that this bothers you so much.

Max crooks her neck to the left, the first sign of genuine emotion making its way onto her face. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.” She admits. “It’s just, you two spend so much time dancing around each other, I thought it was obvious.”

Eddie looks confused. You’re not.

You just want to leave.

“Thought what was obvious?” The question spills from his mouth without a second of hesitation. You’re not sure whether that makes you feel better or worse.

Max groans, and you silently pray that she doesn’t say anything else. But then again, when has luck ever been on your side?

“God Munson,” she rakes a hand through her fiery locks, eyes flicking between you and Eddie, “either you’re playing dumb to hide from your own feelings, or you actually are that stupid.”

“For our sake,” Mike cuts in dryly, leaning over to Dustin, “I hope it’s not the latter.”

You can’t handle this anymore, your need to flee reaching its boiling point.

“You know what,” the discomfort is clear in your tone, “I think I need some air.”

Pushing yourself up from the table, you ignore any of the protests that come your way as you turn your back to them and make your way out of the Wheeler’s basement. Once you reach the top of the stairway, you push yourself through their kitchen and through the back door, collapsing shakily onto the steps in their backyard.

The weather is beautiful, the sun is shining, it’s warm and wonderfully breezy, the exact opposite of how you’re feeling right now. The fresh air fills your lungs, a much needed respite from the stuffiness of the Wheeler’s basement. But your mind won’t stop running.

You hear the back door open and close behind you, but you don’t have the energy to look up, as much as you’re curious to see who has come to join you. Given the way you left, you figured they would leave you alone, but, as it appears, someone has ignored your wishes.

“Hey.” The voice murmurs. Of course it would be Eddie. You should have known the second that door opened that it would be him walking out of it. Who else would it be?

Eddie takes a seat next to you, knees bumping yours slightly, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, a tone he often reserves just for you.

You intake a questionable breath. “I’m fine.” You say, though it doesn’t sound convincing. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

He nods in understanding, thinking for a moment before he speaks.

“You know they don’t mean it right?” He asks, brown eyes desperately trying to meet yours.

You laugh for the second time today. “Oh, they definitely mean it.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. He’s trying to make you feel better, but it’s clearly not working. He’s at a loss for words. “What?” Is the only thing he can think to say.

Your chuckle isn’t one of happiness. It’s one of pain. “They do it because they know how much I—“ you stop yourself from going too far.

But Eddie’s desperate to know what you were going to say. He thinks he’s finally caught on, thinks he finally understands, and his chest rises with hope. “I need to hear you say it.” He finishes.

Relaxing as much as you possibly can, you reach for Eddie’s hand, clasping it with your own. “They know—“ you struggle, “they know how much I love you.” The words come tumbling out of your mouth and you don’t know whether you’re more shocked you actually admitted it out loud, or that you admitted it to him.

Eddie’s palm squeezes yours, his other hand reaching up to cup your chin, turning your head to face his. Brown eyes meet (e/c), in a silent dance of acceptance. All this time he’d thought they were teasing him for not telling you how he felt, little did he know you felt the same.

He never thought there was any way you could feel the same.

“Are you going to say anything?” Your voice cracks, the nerves coming back in full force. His silence isn’t the most reassuring, despite the toothy smile that has graced his features.

He puffs out a light breath of air that catches in his throat. He hums in content. “Hmm…I kind of like fucking with you, Sigmund…” he drags out the nickname with the flick of his tongue. You feel your heart flutter in your chest.

“But I guess,” he smiles, bringing you closer to his lips, so his just barely graze yours as he speaks:

“I could tell you that I love you too.”

[catharrington]

Vanilla Cake and Strawberry Ice Cream.

My first fic requested by donation to Harringrove for BLM. Anon asked for a simple prompt. “Billy trying his best to do something nice for Max's birthday, thus surprising both her, himself and just about everyone else ...? Just, something nice and sweet, because I think we need nice things now.” Anon your iconic and I love your brain. Please enjoy!!!

***

What he’s struggling with was still two weeks off, but Billy was getting nervous. He doesn’t get nervous. Yet when he does, like right now as he flicks a magazine nervously glossy page by glossy page through his calloused fingers, he loathes it.

Nothing was catching him like he thought it would. The pictures, the pretty singers and models in their flashy jewelry and clothing, all ran together.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he stretched out one leg while keeping the other bent. Felt cranky and cramped as he started from the top of the magazine again. Then two sharp knocks jarred his focus. And there was only two seconds before his door opened to Max’s head of wild hair.

“Hey, idiot!” She paused as he watches him scramble to shove the magazine under his ass. Billy grumbles while trying to act casual, it doesn’t really work.

“Yeah, whatever,” Max starts again, “Mom says you have to give me a ride to the arcade! And I’m leaving like now- so...,”

Billy groans out, running his hand down his flushed face, “I’ll be out be in 5,” he points at her with a sharp look. “Now get out of my room, shit bird!”

She slammed the door with a huge swoosh of wind and a click. Billy rolled off his bed with an equally loud thump. He pulled the magazine now crumpled out from under his blanket and shoved it deep into his closet. Running his hands through his hair, then he toed in his boots. His shirt was unbuttoned down farther than he usually has it, Billy only smirked as he left it open.

He walked out to the living room and jingled his keys in Max’s sour face to get her to follow out to the Camaro.

The arcade was packed. Billy snarled his top lip as he parked and got out. He figured with the bright sunlight beating down they would be at a park, or the community swimming pool, not clambering to get inside a dimly lit arcade. But he only narrowed his eyes through his golden aviators as Max ran to join her group of friends inside.

Billy let his eyes travel farther up the strip mall. There were a few shops dotting the line up, a couple empty ones and a bustling Family Video, and the one that caught Billy’s eye. A quaint looking boutique labeled ‘In Style Girls’ across the top in curling cursive writing.

Billy had his hands shoved deep into his jeans back pockets, acting casual as he took the sidewalk to peer into the glass. But it was the same as the magazine. The cluttered racks of clothes and jumbled rows of clunky jewelry all ran together for him. A cashier was inside applying bright red lipstick, and he considered maybe that could be an idea for a gift, but he wasn’t ready for that.

He doesn’t notice as Max sneaks back out of the Palace Arcade to press herself along the brick walls and spy on him. The party follows, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, then slightly timid at the end follows Will.

They listen intently as Max rants. “He’s got some weird thing happening. Like he’s- shopping for a girlfriend. It’s gross.”

Mike scoffs. “Why is that gross?”

Lucas nods at her shoulder. “Yeah, getting gifts is pretty normal for a couple Max, I get you gifts all the time?”

“No, stalker,” Max huffs. She rolls her eyes at them and turns back to see Billy all but pressing his nose to the glass of the ladies’ boutique. “This is Billy. He doesn’t do gifts or romance. I would know. He’s never bought gifts for my birthday or like Christmas. And oh- he really doesn’t do long term girlfriends!”

“Who’s got a girlfriend?” The party jumps almost in sync as Steve speaks up. He’s fitted himself behind Will, who didn’t notice he was there, and was watching the party curiously over the top of a can of coke.

“Hey Steve,” Will greets meekly, knowing his job as the look out was a bust.

Max straightens up from the wall. Trying to act casual, and mostly failing just like Billy had. “No one, what’s it matter to you?” Max snaps at him as she starts back to the arcade.

Steve blinks. Mike and Lucas sigh as they try and fill him in. “Billy,” they say in sync then Lucas continues, “she’s obsessed with how he’s been acting weird lately.”

Steve furrows his brows. “How has he been acting weird?” he asks.

Dustin snorts laughter like a pig as he follows back into the arcade, doesn’t notice as Steve lingers in the doorway. “Doesn’t he always act weird? He’s a douchebag.”

The party shares a good laugh at that before trotting back into the blinking lights of the dark arcade. Steve stays behind to watch as Billy jumps down from the curb and stomps across the parking lot to get back into his Camaro. This time, he’s the one who jumps when Will speaks up at his shoulder.

“It’s not polite to stare, y’know? Not supposed to be caught looking too long.” Will speaks low and quiet, says it secretive. Makes Steve’s skin chill with goosebumps. He knows, maybe too well, he isn’t supposed to stare. He only shrugs in reply, taking a long swig of his cold coke, then walks away from the younger Byers.

Steve doesn’t ask about Billy again. Takes the looks Will flicks at him every now and again on the chin with no comment. Steve goes to work the next day casually, tries not to think to long about what Billy could be doing. When, just as he’s scolding himself for thinking about it to much, Billy walks right in.

Comes right up to the counter, a white Hawkins pool shirt cut just below his nipples and red swim shorts pulling tight around his thick thighs every time he takes a step. Steve adverts his eyes. Focuses them on the flavor of the day, Extra Strawberry Sunshine, instead of letting his eyes linger.

“Harrington,” Billy’s voice ripped his attention up. “Delivery,” he drawled.

Steve blinked at his baby blue eyes, took in his curly hair made even frizzier with the fluorescent lights. Drifted down to his sunglasses clipped on the front of his shirt. Bit his lip and forced himself to look farther down at Billy’s outstretched hand holding a folded piece of paper.

Steve tried to smile casually as he plucked the piece of paper. Tried to keep his breath from hitching as Billy’s red hot suntanned fingers brushed his own. Messed up both times, ended up snatching the paper and unraveling it furiously with wide blown black eyes.

The paper had handwritten blocky letters spelling out a date and time for Max’s upcoming birthday party. It read: Must wear something cute! Must bring presents! Steve blew out the side of his mouth in a huff, but smiled as he spotted his name at the top.

“You better show up. Max is pretty adamant about it being a big deal and all. Big 14.” He leaned forward on the counter and kept his voice low as he spoke. “When are we gonna let that rat pack in on the bad news that it’s all down hill from there, pretty boy?”

Steve held his breath. Didn’t reply. Didn’t want to taste too much of banana sunning lotion. Billy leaves with a wave over his shoulder, doesn’t ask for any ice cream. Not surprising with his cut abs, he does have to keep the figure for the ladies. For his girlfriend.

“Oh hey,” Billy spins, watches him over his shoulder, coy smile on his lips, “can you give me directions to the Radio Shack in this damn labyrinth?”

Steve props his head up on the counter with one hand, shoving his fingers into his rosy cheek. “Second level, just off the elevator. You can’t miss it.”

Billy salutes him, “thanks, sailor boy,” before leaving.

Steve groans deep and long thinking about how much he dreads meeting Billy’s girlfriend if he brings her to the party. But also dreads what the party will do to him if he doesn’t go.

So he does, pulls into the Wheeler house where the invite demanded him to be at this specific hour. Steve smiled at Mrs. Wheeler nicely as he pushed past to rush down the steps to their basement. He sighs in relief as he gets to their little set up of colored streamers and half inflated balloons. Letters cut by hand spelling out Happy Birthday taped above the couch. And a lopsided vanilla cake sitting on a table with goofy surfer themed paper plates and napkins next to it.

Steve sets his quart of strawberry ice cream, Extra Strawberry Sunshine, down right next to it. He brought a present, okay, even if it’s food and even if he might have stolen it.

“Steve, my man,” Dustin sighs from where he’s sitting at their card table fumbling with a miniature figurine. “Finally someone who isn’t with their girlfriend.”

That word sends a spike of ice into Steve’s good news. He runs a hand down the back of his neck, forgets its cold from carrying the ice cream and makes himself shiver.

“Yeah, buddy,” he swallows thickly.

Doesn’t know what to say. Turns his gaze to the ceiling as heavy boots fall on wood.

Upstairs the party is pulling a few things from Mike’s room, a couple dungeon manuals and a few extra chairs from the kitchen when the door rasps. Mrs. Wheeler is there to open it with a kitten’s grin as she steps aside for Billy and Max. He smiles right back, brilliant white teeth and wrinkles around his blue eyes melting Mike’s mom right to the ground as he walks past.

They both head to the stairs, Max leading with taking two steps at a time and Billy slower. Letting the rest of the children flow in as they wish Max happy birthday’s.

As the party descends on their card table and set up extra chairs, circling around a small mountain of gifts, chanting something like ‘open them quick so we can eat the cake’, Steve takes a few steps towards Billy.

“Hey,” he greets cooly.

“Hey,” Billy bids back. His hands buried in his denim jacket.

Steve shuffles around, glancing left and right like he’s looking for something. For someone.

“Harrington?” Billy leans closer, shoulder checks him, maybe in a way to bully but to Steve it made his heart flutter. “What’s up?”

“Your- uh, Thought this party was a big deal, and your girlfriend couldn’t make it?” Steve keeps his eyes focused on the kids.

From next to him he can hear Billy rolling his eyes. Stomping around in his big boots as he moves into Steve’s line of sight. “What would make you think-,”

“Hey, jerks,” Steve whips his head away from Billy’s serious eyes like he got caught. He sees Dustin motioning them over. “All the presents then we can eat cake!”

Steve moves past Billy, holding his breath from the onslaught of cologne, and points to the ice cream. “You nerds didn’t notice a whole tub of Max’s favorite flavor? It’s right there!”

Max picks up a piece of wrapping paper trash thrown across the table and smiles bright as she finds the quart. “Thanks, Steve,” she beams.

Billy is suddenly right at Steve’s side, breath close enough to ghost down his arm and over his tshirt sleeve to his naked skin. “Don’t get too excited until you unwrap mine, Maxine.” He finally takes his hands out of his pockets and shows a messy wrapped gift. Max looks confused, Billy is blushing and not making eye contact. But she reaches forward and takes the present.

Plucks the orange wrapping paper off one tape piece at a time. She pulls out a Sony Walkman glossy and new, with a gaudy neon design her eyes just light up for. And under it, as she picks the Walkman up gently, a cassette of Madonna falls into her hand. She smirks out one side of her mouth, rolls her eyes. Says, “thanks, idiot,” with a fond tone.

Billy doesn’t reply, just sucks his tongue over the top of his teeth and shrugs. The party pulls Max by her shoulder and reminds her it’s time to cut the cake.

Billy’s still standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve. Still breathing hard and heavy, smelling good. Not moving for any cake. Steve swallows the spit gathering in his mouth. Doesn’t want to get his hopes up too much, but he has to ask. Thinks briefly about Robin’s tally board as he flicks his hair over his forehead and steadies his voice.

“So the shopping, and directions to radio shack? That was all for Max? No...,” Steve tips his head, let’s his breath be the one ghosting over Billy’s turned up jacket collar, “no girlfriend?”

Billy rolled his head back on his shoulders, flexing under Steve’s attention. “No girlfriend,” he confirms quietly.

Then he turned to meet pretty brown eyes, sparkling with a promise like ocean water at sunrise. Gives Steve a vanilla cake sweet smile.

“Hum, Interesting, Hargrove,” Steve smiles back cool as strawberry ice cream melting down the side of a waffle cone in the afternoon sun.

[byler-n-harringrove]

Broken fingers || Byler Au

I felt so compelled to this amazing prompt - please feel free to send in your own requests because personally I don’t have many ideas atm haha, I need a little help!! I am also a little rusty with my byler writing, so plz bare with me!! Thank you guys so much xx I love you all!!

Prompt: Do you do requests?? Cause I was thinking of a story where Lonnie comes over to the Byers residence in a drunk rage and slams the door on Will’s fingers breaking one of them. So he either goes to Mike’s or Mike comes over and they just cuddle and cry 😭😭😭

Warnings: violence, swearing (bigotry)

______

It had all been a blur in the beginning.

Pain did that, blurred your other 4 senses as your mind became foggy with the shooting of pain through your blood - like some type of rabid disease with no intention of stopping. The pain grasped to Will’s fragile frame, claws digging in with no surrender in sight.

He was sure they were broken, the way the bones sat pointed and tilted outwards in odd directions didn't look normal. But there hadn't been much the teen could do at the time then run away, blinded by haste and poker-hot pain. How Lonnie, his oh so lovely father, had gotten into his family's beloved house was beyond him, and the youngest Byers was lucky enough to walk in - alone - to a rather red faced and staggering man who had a bone to pick.

Will had been trying to close his bedroom door ( it was his natural reaction when anything threatened him - to go into his room and shut the door), but Lonnie had followed him, hitting multiple walls along the way. There was a squabble, and Will really wasn't the strongest of children.

The crunching of his fingers as the door sandwiched the violently made Will want to throw up.

Pain destoryed the next moments - he had cried out, Lonnie has backed off and left him finally, muttering about how his son was a faggot and so - and all Will knew in that moment he needed to run. Run away, get to somewhere safe. But where was that? It was second nature, though, to answer that thought with one name.

Mike’s house.

The frail and pale boy’s heart shook at the idea. He had always felt safe in that cosy basement, curled up diligently beside his one and only crush - Mike Wheeler. It was close to hero worship at this point, he would blindly follow Mike to the end of time if it meant that Mike would give him a smile and let him hold his hand.

-

The bike ride over was what Will felt hell would feel like - he didn't trust himself to use one hand to ride - and he found himself hoping that Mike even had the smallest amount of knowledge on first aid. The sun had finally made the hill its grave, the crappy pee yellow street lights on the main roads the only guide he had.

He had to push through - to get to Mike, to feel safe, to feel loved.

The milenia it took to get to Mike’s house finally reached its end as he flung his bike to the ground unforgivingly in his pained haste. The noise of the bike meeting the grass made him cringe, but the reminder of his broken fingers only brought more pain.

He didn't know where his face began and his tears started as he knocked erratically on the Wheeler’s front door. Will didn't have to wait long, luckily, before the eccentric wooden door was heaved open by a familiar mop of dark brunette hair - those beautiful caramel eyes instantly made Will want to crumple in his arms and sob.

And that's what he did.

“Hey Will- Ahh! What's wrong!?” the spangly teenager squeaked awkwardly as Will flung himself into his arms with blatant disregard.

“Who's at the door Mike!?” “It's just Will! We’re going downstairs, don't bother us!” Mike didn't know what was wrong, but seeing Will cry so freely made his stomach drop and his heart stutter with fear.

What the fuck had happened?

Will sniffled and whimpered as they descended the stairs into their lair, the basement. Wills second home - besides castle Byers, but that was different - was already starting to have an effect on his nerves. Lonnie wasn't here, he wasn't going to get to him and sure as hell wasn't going to be breaking anymore of his ‘girly’ fingers.

“Are you going to tell my whats wrong?’ Mike asked, doing his best to sound sympathetic - of course he was, but the anxiety of not knowing things often made him sound snappy and impatient.

The smaller teen was unable to meet Mike’s eyes now, and wordlessly extended his hand that had been cradled to his chest. The fingers were distorted awkwardly - Will didn't want to look at them again or he felt like he was actually going to throw up or pass out. They were his fingers - his father had done this to him. His. Father.

“S-Shit!” Mike cursed loudly, eyes wide.

Without another word, he quickly darted off to the small toilet off the basement. He ripped the rickedy medicine cabinet open and quickly grabbed the first aid kit they used for emergencies. Fuck - this was more then a emergency. This was Will, his Will.

When he returned, Mike quickly guided the other teen towards their sofa. Will’s cheeks were red and blotchy, eyes slightly swollen as he sniffled and whined at the pain of his fingers. The taller teen broke out the bandages and something to make some splints from (his parents had forced him to take a first aid course - not that he would tell anyone that) and hesitantly inspected the 3 fingers.

“Who did this?” Mikes voice almost struck fear in Will.

“U-umm… L-lonnie..” He was too tired to be berraded by Mike until he finally told him - it was easier to give up now.

The next 10 minutes were in silent besides the quiet cries of Mike moving his bones to try and set them ( yes, he wasn't a doctor - but Will repeatedly told him they couldn't go. There were already too many issues surrounding his family as it was) and Mike muttering soft praises and encouragements to keep him conscious and as calm as possible.

“Here - this'll help the pain” Mike had fetched some water from upstairs - no mum, we don't need any food. yes mum, he's fine - and offered Will (who had finally stopped crying) some panadol to help.

Will sniffled again, taking the water and panadol before muttering a soft thank-you as Mike sat down beside him. The couch was warm - their bodies sat close together as Will was finally starting to calm down from the rush of emotions and adrenaline that ran through is small body. It was too much, and it had honestly tired him out.

“Your staying tonight, by the way. Before you say anything, my mum says its fine and she’ll call your mum. We can watch movies - your choice of course” Mike all but ordered his friend, standing again without a moment's notice to get some of the spare blankets and pillows from the corner of the room.

The smallest teen could only muster a nod - muttering something about the 2nd Star Wars movie - and found himself curling his knees into his chest. Will just wanted, no he need, some hugs. He needed to be held - loved, smothered until he was no longer the touch starved teen he was now.

Mike - who Will was sure was his guardian angel - finally settle back down on the couch and layered the cozy blankets around them along with some comfy pillows. It was like a mother making a nest for its young - and Will seemed all but oblivious to Mike’s reddening cheeks as he slipped into the warmth besides him, their sides touching with soft zaps of passionate electricity.

“C-can…” Wil stuttered, capturing Mike's undivided attention “Can we hug?” If Will could get and redder they would never know, but the question honestly made him want the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

It was silent for a moment before Mike stuttered out a small “Y-yea,” before wrapping his spindily limbs arounder Wills slightly shaking frame and holding him close.

Will was in euphoria.

As the movie started, Will felt the panadol slowly starting to kick in - seeping into his bloodstream and numbing the throbbing pain within his fingers. The small teen slowly found himself leaning his head on Mike’s shoulder, eyes drooping as he focused on Mike’s radiating warmth and the small circles he rubbed on Will’s upper arm.

“I won't let anyone ever hurt you again, Will. Never” Mike promised Will with sheer determination in his voice as the youngest finally slipped off into sleep - finally feeling safe and secure wrapped in blankets, in the arms of the person he loved most.

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Eighteen

summary: Christine and the others rush to find the party before the Bad Men do. word count: 4.4k warnings: Feelings™, me accidentally changing POV b/c I love Hopper

[ masterlist ]   [ FF.net ]

“So this is the Demogorgon.” 

They were all squeezed into Jonathan’s car, Hopper and Mrs. Byers up front while Christine, Nancy and Jonathan sat in the back. They were mostly sitting, anyway. Christine had half her butt on the door, and Nancy’s hips were angled so she wouldn’t have to be in Jonathan’s lap. It was a tight fit, but they were trying to make it work. 

Christine was more focused on the photo in her hands. It was mostly black, looking more like a distortion than anything concrete. But Nancy had traced out the figure with her finger—arms, legs, broad torso, a head that didn’t seem to have a face. It loomed nearly seven feet tall, illuminated underneath by the eerie light of Steve’s pool. It was right at the end of the diving board, right behind where Barb had been sitting… She was relieved Barb had been cropped out of this copy. Christine wasn’t sure if she could handle seeing it right now. 

“The demo-what?” Nancy asked. 

“It’s uh…that’s what me and the boys have been calling it,” Christine said sheepishly. “I think it’s from Dungeons and Dragons.” 

“Seriously?” Jonathan snorted from the other side of the car. “You’re using a kids’ game to name a bloodthirsty monster?” 

“So what? It’s so much more elegant to keep calling it ‘that thing’? Besides, this whole thing—monsters and alternate dimensions and superpowers—kinda feels like Dungeons and Dragons to me.” 

“Do not say ‘alternate dimensions’,” Hopper instructed flatly from the drivers’ seat. “I don’t know what we’re up against, but I don’t want to hear you talking about ‘alternate dimensions’ ever again.” 

Christine raised a hand in surrender. He hadn’t taken well to her explanation of the multiverse. Government conspiracies were fine, but apparently theoretical physics was right out. 

“I still can’t believe you’ve been with my brother this whole time,” Nancy said. “That’s…so weird.” 

“Yeah, and you’ve been fighting demons,” Christine offered, handing her the picture once more. “Cause that’s not insane.” 

Nancy laughed weakly. “Yeah, well…I guess neither of our weeks went that great.” 

Christine nodded. She’d only gotten the short version on Jonathan and Nancy’s side of things. They’d glossed over the pictures, but it seemed like Nancy was overlooking the creepiness since it’d helped her figure out what happened to Barb. They’d gone looking for the Demogorgon after the funeral, running around in the same woods where Christine had been looking for Eleven. But while Christine was avoiding trouble, Nancy had run right into it—and into the Upside Down, from the sounds of it. 

Nancy’s description had been short. It was darker, but familiar. Cold and wet and slimy. She’d nearly gotten lost trying to escape the Demogorgon. That she hardly described at all. She just handed Christine the photo and let the picture do the talking. 

Jonathan had managed to pull her out, and stayed the night so Nancy would feel safer. But they hadn’t slept together. Nancy hadn’t even slept at all. So Steve had seen them comforting each other—but it had Jonathan helping Nancy, and not the other way around. 

Christine didn’t have any words of comfort. She couldn’t think of any that matched the gravity of the whole thing. They’d each been alone, thinking the other one didn’t care, thinking their friend had ditched them over some boy when they were just trying not to die. She couldn’t imagine what Nancy had been through in the Upside Down. And she didn’t have any adequate way to apologize. As Hopper sped through the suburban streets, Christine slipped her hand into Nancy’s and squeezed. She had no idea when they’d get a real chance to talk. But at least they wouldn’t go through the rest of it alone. 

The car swerved to a quick stop, forcing everyone to jolt forward in their seats. 

“Tell me that’s not your house,” said Hopper darkly. 

Christine leaned around him to peer out the windshield. They’d pulled over on the side of the street, at least ten houses down from her own. She couldn’t see what the big deal was at first. But then she noticed the large white van parked next door. The side read Hawkins Power and Light. There was a man in a suit standing at the front door, talking to a confused looking Claudia. 

 “Okay,” said Christine. “That’s not my house. It’s Dustin’s. How the hell do they know about Dustin?” 

“They’re the government. They know about everyone.” 

“Well, could she still be inside?” asked Mrs. Byers. “Just because they know about the boys doesn’t mean they know about Christine.” 

“Yeah, I think they know about Christine,” said Hopper, and he nodded out the window again. 

Everyone looked out, closer this time. It was faint, but Christine could see the shadows moving inside her house, shadows that were too big to be anyone in the party. Though she knew Eleven wouldn’t be inside, her stomach clenched. This was not good. 

“Are they allowed to be in there?” asked Nancy. “Isn’t that like…breaking and entering?” 

“Not if you’re the government,” said Hopper. “All they need to say is that they had probable cause and an unlocked door.” 

“They did have an unlocked door.” 

Hopper turned around in his seat to stare at Christine. “You keep the doors unlocked?” 

“What?” she said defensively. “I wanted to make sure Eleven could get in if she came home.” 

“The girl has superpowers, and you thought a locked door was going to stop her?” 

“What does it matter? They were just gonna break my door down anyway!” 

“Jesus…” He shook his head, and looked back to the house. “Okay, if the safe house is out, where else might the kids go to hide?” 

“Well, she was living with the Wheelers for a few days.” 

“What?” gasped Nancy. 

“Yeah,” said Christine. “She was living in your basement. I think Mike took some of your clothes, by the way, so don’t be surprised if your laundry’s a little light.” 

“She’s not at the Wheelers,” Hopper interrupted. “If they know about one kid, they know about all of them.” 

“Then we have to go back,” Nancy said stoutly. “My mom, my dad—what if they hurt my little sister?” 

“We are not going back. The last thing your parents need is for these guys to find out you’re involved in this too.” 

“But what if they have Mike?” she demanded. “What if he comes back and…?” 

“If your brother came back to the house, he’d be smart enough to leave,” Hopper assured her. “If they’ve made it this long, they know the drill. Besides. The lab doesn’t have your brother.” 

“How can you know that?” 

Hopper pointed out the window over Mrs. Byers’ shoulder. The whole car creaked as everyone turned to see what he was looking at this time. Christine couldn’t quite see it between Nancy, Jonathan and the houses outside, but in the bated silence she could hear it. Somewhere outside there was a heavy mechanical whirring. It sounded like helicopter blades. 

“Seriously?” Worried as Nancy was, she still managed to sound annoyed. “For Mike?” 

“For Eleven,” Christine corrected with worry. “If they get Mike, it’ll just be a bonus.” 

“Which is why we need to find them before they do,” Hopper agreed. He twisted around in the seat to look at Christine. “I need you to think. Is there anywhere else they might have gone?” 

“Not that I know of,” Christine sighed. 

“Then think harder!” 

“Look, I told you everything I know, okay? She’s been at Mike’s house, my house, and briefly the middle school. Besides that it’s just been the woods, and they could be anywhere in there. She knows them better than anyone else would. You’d have to ask her.” 

“So why don’t we?” 

Everyone turned to look at Jonathan, who was staring a hole into the back of his mother’s seat. 

“Why don’t we what?” she asked. 

“Ask her. I don’t know where they are, but I think I know how to get in contact with them.” 

“The supercomms,” Christine realized, turning to him. “But I don’t have one. Do you?” 

“No, but…” 

“But Will does,” Mrs. Byers finished. She smacked Hopper on the arm, making him flinch. “My house. Go, Hop! We have to get back to my house!” 

Hopper grumbled as she continued to berate him into turning the car around. They couldn’t go too fast. They didn’t want to draw the attention of the several government agents who were currently dissecting Christine’s house top to bottom. But as soon as they rounded the corner and were out of sight, Hopper slammed on the gas. They went racing down the roads, whipping past Mirkwood and heading for the edge of town. 

They all jolted forward again when Hopper slammed on the brakes, skidding into the Byers’ driveway and sending gravel in every direction. Everyone piled out of the car, and Mrs. Byers led the way into the house without hesitation. 

Christine marched behind her, but quickly trailed to a stop in the living room. 

“Holy shit…” 

The Byers’ entire house had been done up for Christmas early. String lights hung like a net around the ceiling, creating a maze of wires. For some reason, all the bulbs had been removed and were rolling around the floor. Furniture had been upended and ripped open, papers covered the floor. There were several boards hap-hazardously nailed up in one corner, and over the couch someone had painted the alphabet in lopsided black letters. It looked like one bulb had been nailed over each letter, like some sort of creepy, festive keyboard. 

“Whoa…” Nancy was standing next to her, looking equally as stunned. “Uh…Jonathan said that…she was talking to Will…through the lights…” 

“Right,” said Christine. Her eyes trailed back to the alphabet. “That…makes sense…” 

They proceeded down the hall without saying anything else on the subject. 

Will’s room was at the opposite end of the house. It had also been strung up with Christmas lights, with a couple of open lamps here and there for variation. Christine felt weird about diving in and rifling through Will’s stuff. Jonathan and his mom ended up doing most of the searching, while Christine, Nancy and Hopper waited anxiously by the door. 

“I got it!” Mrs. Byers announced after a few minutes of looking. She resurfaced from under the bed, raising the walkie over her head. “Oh. How do I…?” 

Jonathan took the radio from her hand, checking the battery before powering it on and tuning the station. His finger hovered over the call button, and he paused. 

“Actually, it’s—it’s probably better if you do it.” 

He held the radio out to Christine. She nodded, and took a deep breath before she grabbed it from him. Mrs. Byers ushered her to sit on the end of the bed, and everyone gathered around to listen. 

“Hello?” Christine called into the radio. “Mike? Dustin? Lucas? This is Christine. Anyone copy?” 

Silence. 

“Hello? Anybody? This is Christine. I need you to pick up. It’s an emergency. I said do you copy?” 

Silence. 

“I know at least one of you idiots has a radio on you. I’m serious, it’s Christine. Hello, hello, hello, hello, helloooo?” 

And again, silence. 

Hopper grabbed the radio out of her hands, ignoring her noise of protest. 

“Listen, kid, this is the chief. If you’re there pick up.” 

“Chief, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Christine warned, which he also ignored. 

“We know you’re in trouble, and we know about the girl.” 

“Great,” she huffed. “Well that’s definitely not a good idea.” 

“We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over!” 

Christine stood up, grabbing the walkie back from him. Seeing as he was a lot taller and stronger than she was, it was a challenge. But she managed it with a hearty glare. 

“You’re gonna scare the shit out of them,” she snapped at him. “Every authority figure she’s ever known has tortured her, and you wanna announce that you’re a cop? I made a promise not to go to the police because she was too scared. Just let me talk to them.” 

Hopper glowered at her, but did not reach for the walkie. Christine leaned back on the doorframe. She closed her eyes, and pressed the radio against her forehead. 

“Come on, guys. It’s Christine. I know you’re worried about the bad men, but I’m here with reinforcements. I’ve got Chief Hopper and Mrs. Byers and Jonathan and…hell, even Nancy. You know I wouldn’t have told anyone unless it was for a really good reason. But the bad men know who you are, so we have to find you guys if you want our help. Please…please pick up. Do you copy?” 

More silence. She was ready to give up when the radio crackled to life. 

“What are the first fifteen digits of pi?” 

Christine actually laughed with relief. 

“What?” Nancy asked, staring down at the radio. “What is it?” 

“It’s Dustin,” Christine explained. “It’s a defense thing.” 

“Defense?” Mrs. Byers repeated in confusion. “What, does—are they in trouble?” 

“No, he wants to know if I am. It’s a code we have. If you say it right, everything’s okay, but if you say it wrong it means you’re in distress.” 

“You memorized the first fifteen digits of pi?” Hopper asked, looking mildly disgusted. 

“Christine? Hello? I asked for the first fifteen digits of pi. Do you copy? Over!” 

“Yeah, I copy, Dust,” she said, turning back to the radio. “3.14159265358979.” 

“Thank God. And say over when you’re done, geez. This is basic stuff. Over.” 

“My apologies. Are you all alive? Over.” 

“Yeah, we’re okay. Had a close call, but we’re all good on the fifteen digits of pi here. Over.” 

“Great. Now where the hell are you? Over.” 

“We can’t tell you. Signal might be intercepted. Over.” 

“Fine,” Christine sighed, knowing he had a point. “Can you…describe it to me? Give me a hint? Gimme something here. Over.” 

There was silence as the boys discussed the best way to proceed. It was minute or two before she got an answer. 

“Christine, we are in Cloud City. Do you copy? Over.” 

“Cloud City?” Hopper echoed. “What is that, a place?” 

“Yeah, but not a real one,” said Christine. “It’s from Star Wars.” 

The explanation only seemed to make him more exasperated. 

“What is it with these kids and the made up places?” 

“It’s code,” Jonathan urged. “We’re supposed to figure it out. So what’s so special about Cloud City?” 

“Well it’s in the sky, for one,” Christine sighed. “It’s a gas mining colony. It was under Imperial control.” 

“You don’t think they’re in the Lab, do you?” Joyce asked. 

“No, no. That would definitely be the Death Star. But Cloud City is…” Christine chewed on her lip, and after a few more seconds, lit up with recognition. She held the radio up again, asking, “Dustin, you said Cloud City? You are in the ruins of Cloud City, is that right? Over.” 

“Christine! Just say Cloud City! It’s a damn code! Over!” 

“Whatever! Fine. Yes, I copy. Just stay where you are. We’re coming for you. Over.” 

“Okay. But be careful! And remember Ackbar’s advice! Over!” 

“Ten-four. Over and out.” 

“Where are they?” Mrs. Byers asked, as Christine put down the radio. “They’re okay?” 

“They’re fine, for now. They’re hiding in a junkyard on the edge of town.” 

“How’d you get that from Cloud City?” Nancy asked in bewilderment. 

“Traitors,” Christine explained. “We were at the junkyard yesterday after the funeral. It’s where we were when Lucas realized El was messing with the compasses so we couldn’t get to the gate. In Empire Strikes Back, it’s where Han and Leia meet up with Lando, who turns out to…” 

“We don’t have time for this,” Hopper interrupted. “You know how to get there?” 

Christine frowned, admittedly a little annoyed. “Yeah.” 

“Good. Get in the car. No, not you!” Hopper held up a hand as everyone in the room made for the door. “Blondie comes for navigation. The rest of you stay here.” 

“Hopper,” Joyce pleaded. “If the kids are…” 

“You just heard the kids are fine. This is not up for discussion. Stay here, keep your heads down, and wait.” 

He did not allow room for argument as he walked out of the room. 

Christine hesitated. After so long split up from Nancy, she suddenly didn’t want to leave her again. 

“I should go,” she said awkwardly. 

Nancy nodded. “Just be careful, okay? And…remember Ackbar’s advice. Whatever that means.” 

They smiled at each other, and Christine rushed out the door. Chief Hopper was waiting not all that patiently in the car. It was already running when she got in, and he was pulling out before she got her seatbelt on. 

“It’s a junkyard on the west end of town,” she started to explain as he drove. “We got there by following the train tracks and cutting through the forest, but I think if you went up through Randolph Way…” 

“One thing at a time,” said Hopper, shutting her down. “First thing’s first. We’re going back to the station.” 

“What? Why?” 

“So I can get my damn car. You see me driving five kids around in this piece of junk? I don’t think so.” 

“What, you’re worried we’re gonna cramp your style?” Christine glared at him. “There are government agents out hunting them down! We don’t have time to…” 

“We have time to do whatever I say we do! We are getting. The police van. Besides, it gets us more clearance and less attention. They could’ve seen this car when we went to your house.” 

“Right,” Christine said moodily. “Cause the Chief’s car is so much more inconspicuous. Especially if they know you’re onto them.” 

Hopper did not seem to appreciate her clear logic. He didn’t yell at her, but he did take the next turn hard enough to slam her into the door. She grunted, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Just please do me a favor, kid,” he said slowly, “and do not speak unless I ask you for directions. Please.” 

“…Christine.” 

“What?” 

“My name is Christine Walcott,” she repeated. “Not kid. And not Blondie.” 

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive. 

Once they got to the station, Hopper disappeared inside for a few minutes for “supplies.” Christine twitched anxiously in the car while she waited, checking the clock obsessively as more and more time slipped by. She was annoyed to find when he returned that “supplies” had meant some more bullets for his gun, a pack of cigarettes, and a cup of coffee. It was one of the reasons she didn’t object when he handed her Jonathan’s keys and went to his own car. He would follow her up to the junkyard, but she needed to stop at least a hundred yards away, just in case. 

Regardless, there was already a pattern emerging. Hopper must have sensed it too. That was why he was out of his car with a hand on Christine’s door before she could so much as turn the engine off. 

“You are staying here,” he instructed clearly. “Do you understand?” 

“But…” 

“They have guns, and you do not. I have a gun, and you do not. If things go south, I am going to tell the kids to run this way, and you will drive like hell to get them out of here. Nod if you understand.” 

Christine huffed, but nodded. 

It made her tremblingly nauseous to watch Hopper pull out his gun. He checked his bullets, clicked off the safety, and secured the brimmed hat on his head. He nodded to her once, and then disappeared up over the hill. Her eyes stayed locked on the empty grass. 

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. 

She counted slowly, probably slower than real seconds lasted. Christine wasn’t sure why she was timing him. She wasn’t even sure she was. She restarted every time she go to ten, and had forgotten how many times she’d started over. More than anything, it was to make sure she kept breathing. If she held her breath as long as her worries wanted her to, the kids wouldn’t have a conscious getaway driver to help them. 

Hopper’s hat broke the surface of the horizon. He walked briskly back down the slope, caught her eye, and nodded once. Christine’s heart jumped into her throat. A moment later, the kids began to spill over the hilltop. 

Christine nearly tumbled out of the car in her rush to get to them. Dustin hit her first, breaking into a sprint and slamming his body into her arms. She rocked back and hugged him tight. He didn’t seem to care that his hat had fallen off any more than she cared that his headset was jabbing her in the ribs. She was just relieved he was okay. 

“Thank God,” she said, trying to conceal the weight of her worry. “Your mom would’ve killed me if I let you get kidnapped by the government.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Chrissy,” he replied, the words muffled by her shirt. “They wouldn’t have kidnapped us. We’d be dead.” 

“Thanks, Dust.” She laughed, and her voice broke. “That’s really comforting.” 

“Don’t worry. Eleven wouldn’t let that happen. There was this huge car chase, right? And we had four of those big vans after us! Three from the back, one from the front. And just when it looked like we were gonna be a double decker van-bike sandwich, Eleven flips the whole van over our heads! It was crazy! Aw, you shoulda been there!” 

“Yeah…Yeah, I should’ve.” 

Dustin pulled back, rubbing his face where the buttons of her work uniform had left circles in his cheek. “It’s okay. You came back.” 

Christine smiled and kissed him on top of the head. She did the same for Mike and Lucas as they came running up next. Mike wrinkled his nose and batted her away, while Lucas stammered and blushed. 

“You guys okay?” she asked. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” said Lucas, nodding frantically. “We’re cool. We’re—We’re good.” 

“Is Nancy okay?” Mike asked nervously. 

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s waiting back at the house.” 

“Who’s house? And how does she know about this anyway?” 

“I’ll explain on the way. Where’s…?” 

“Chrissy?” 

Eleven was finally standing at the bottom of the hill. She was still wearing her tube socks, her blue jacket, her pink dress—only now they were dingy and covered with dirt. It was covered her face too, clumsily washed off but still leaving her ashen. Her wig was long gone, but the same big, brown eyes stared up at her, overflowing with relief. 

“Oh, thank God.” 

Christine pushed right past Dustin. She rushed over to Eleven and dropped down to her knees, pulling her into a fierce hug. It took Eleven a few seconds to respond. But slowly her arms came up, and she wrapped them around Christine just as tightly. Christine ran a hand over Eleven’s head, and pressed her face into her dress. One of them was shaking, but she couldn’t be sure which one. So she was extra careful to keep her eyes dry when she pulled back. 

“Are you okay?” she asked Eleven. “Are you hurt?” 

Eleven shook her head, wiping her eyes. 

“I was so worried. When you didn’t come back, I… Why did you run?” 

“I…hurt Lucas,” she said haltingly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, El,” Christine assured her. She held Eleven’s face in her hands, and ran a thumb over her cheek. “It was an accident. And if half of what Dustin says is true, it sounds like you’ve more than made up for it. I’m…I’m glad you’re back.” 

She smiled, and Eleven mirrored the action. “Me too.” 

Hopper cleared his throat behind them, looking awkward. 

“Not to break up the reunion speeches, but I had to knock out three agents in the junkyard, so. Can we maybe get a move on before they wake up?” 

“Yeah,” Christine agreed, standing once more. “Yeah, good idea.” 

“Thanks.” Hopper headed back to his van, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Everyone jump in. Wheeler in shotgun, the rest of you in the back. And all of you keep your heads down. The last thing we need is for one of you to be seen.” 

He swung the back door open, and turned around to find he was talking to empty air. The children had all piled into the crappy Ford, their babysitter ringleader in the front. She started the car up and pulled into a U-turn. Pulling up alongside him, she rolled down her window. 

“Coming, Chief?” 

She smiled, which was annoying. What was worse was the way every kid in the car grinned with her, the girl in the passenger seat and the three boys stuffed in the back. He knew there wasn’t enough time on the clock to argue, but he sure would’ve liked to. 

“Just keep your heads down,” he grumbled. “And don’t get shot.” 

The curly haired one gave him a salute, and they all slid down in their seats as Christine pulled onto the road. Hopper slammed the back door shut and climbed into the driver seat. He preferred a hangover to kids these days.

[hellimagines]

Worth My Time--Billy Hargrove

Masterlist

Request: “Hey i was wondering if you could do a billy hargrove story where the girl reader ends up meeting billy whenever hes out looking for max and he shows up at her house but max isnt there and he comes in bc the reader gives him directions to the next house & she just got out the bath (pretty much the whole scene with mrs wheeler in ST2) except the reader is the sister and they never seen eachother before & they’re both really turned on with one another and end up fucking then. thanks so much!!! (cont.) also in the story i just sent in can billy have short hair like dacre really does but everything else can be billy lol if that makes sense! sorry forgot to add that in.”

Summary: When a certain blond interrupts your bath, it’s safe to say you’re a little mad.

Warnings: slight smut, cursing

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Wheeler!sister

Word Count: 1,207

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t full smut. I’m sort of burnt out when it comes to Billy smut, so I’m really sorry!

It was late, around 8 o’clock or so, and you found yourself submerged in your warm bath. Your (h/c) hair was pulled into a messy bun, making sure none of the dry strands came in contact with the water or the scented bubbles. You had never felt more blessed in your entire life. For once, you were the only one home. Your parents were out on a date night (the first one they’d had in months), your twin sister Nancy was out on a rendezvous with Jonathan Byers, and your younger brother, Mike, was out with his friends. So you were left on your lonesome, chin deep in cherry scented bubbles with your Signature Soy candles releasing sea blossom and peach dahlia aroma’s. You could feel yourself drifting off, bubbles fizzing at the tips of your fingers and occasionally floating high enough to pop on your nose.

But then. Then the most obnoxious knock you had heard came from your front door. Your eyes flew open, anger bubbling higher than the ones in the bathtub. You waited, not making a sound. There weren’t any cars in the driveway, so maybe the visitor would think nobody was home and leave. But then there was another knock, more incessant than the last. Then another. And another.

“Oh for the love of…” you grumbled, pulling yourself out of the bath. Bubbles clung to your wet skin, and you didn’t bother washing them off- you wouldn’t be entertaining your guest for long anyways. You ripped your black, velvet robe from the back of the bathroom door and haphazardly wrapped it around you. It formed a perfect V down your chest, stopping slightly below your boobs. The robe kept them covered, but you didn’t pay much attention to it as you stormed down the stairs, making sure your visitor could hear your angry stomps.

You swung open the front door, with full intent to wreak havoc on the person in front of you. However, the only thing you could muster was, “What the fuck,” when you were met with Billy Hargrove. He stood at the front door, his red shirt barely buttoned past his belly-button, and his leather jacket around his shoulders. He had cut his hair recently; the once long, curly blond locks were now short and wavy. His eyes racked up and down you, a lazy smirk forming.

“Hello to you too, Wheeler,” he grinned, propping his forearm on the door frame, leaning forward a bit. “Didn’t mean to catch you at a good time,” he snickered.

“Then leave,” you snapped, beginning to shut the door. But his boot had shoved its way through, keeping the door from closing.

“Can’t do that, doll,” he sighed. “Ya see, my little sister, Maxine, has gone missing,” he said sadly, a false expression on his face. You rolled your eyes, cracking your jaw in annoyance.

“You and I know damn well you don’t give two shits ‘bout  Max,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Unbeknownst to you, this only made your unsupported boobs lift up, your robe slipping slightly. Billy’s smirk grew, as he struggled to keep his eyes trained on your own.

“That’s where you’re wrong, babe. I care about Max. And I’d very much like to find her. You wouldn’t happen to where she is, would you? Only take a moment to get an address,” he grinned, briefly flicking his eyes over your shoulder to confirm that nobody else was in the house. You thought for a moment. You could just give him the address of the Byer’s easily, and send him on his way. It would only take two minutes, at most.

“Hurry up, it’s freezing,” you snapped finally, opening the door wider for him. Billy came in, eyeing you as you shut the door and began to walk to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t be so cold if you had on more than that robe,” he snarked, leaning over your kitchen counter. You snapped your head up at him, giving him a glare.

“I was having a nice bath before you showed up, actually. I didn’t exactly have time to get dressed,” you huffed, ripping off a piece of paper from the tablet hanging on the wall. You reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a pen.

“Didn’t mean to disturb you princess,” Billy snickered, watching your every move. You rolled your eyes and returned to the counter, leaning across from him.

“She, and the others, should be at the Byer’s. They usually play Dungeons and Dragons here, but because Will’s been having a tough time lately, I guess they went there,” you explained to him, beginning to write down the address. Billy couldn’t hear you. He was too focused on the way your chest pressed against the countertop, your hand furiously scribbling down words. The black robe had slipped off your shoulder slightly, and he could see faint traces of bubbles in the divet of your collarbone.

“Well,” he said slowly, removing himself from the counter, “if she’s over there and just playing a board game, then I guess she’s not in any danger,” he said, moving himself closer to you. You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hargrove, what the hell. You drive all the way over here, make me get out of the damn bath, stand in the cold while I’m dripping wet, only to tell me ‘it doesn’t matter’? Are you shitting me?” you exclaimed, slamming the pen down on the counter. Billy was right beside you now, his blue eyes no longer trying to hide their gaze as they travelled your body.

“Mhmm… Let me make it up to you,” he hummed, reaching a finger out to diffuse the bubbles in your collarbone. Your skin shivered at his warm touch, your cold body wanting to get closer.

“And why should I do that? What makes you think you’re worth that kind of time?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stepped forward, his hand sneaking around to your waist. He jerked you closer, your hands slamming into his chest.

“I’ll show you I’m worth that kind of time,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss you roughly. A small gasp escaped your mouth, but you reached up to run your hands through his hair, tugging at the short strands.

His hands gripped your hips, lifting you onto the counter behind you, the cold marble causing you to shiver. His mouth nipped from your lips down your jaw, sucking a dark mark at the edge of your jawline.

“I can’t cover that up, Hargrove,” you yelped, yet the legs you had around his waist pulled him closer.

Billy smirked against your skin, making his way down to your chest. “That’s the point, doll face. Now shut up, your bath is gonna get cold soon,” he purred, pulling the velvet material of your black robe away from your boob, exposing your nipple. Instantly he pulled it closer to him, sucking on the sensitive flesh. You tilted your head to the side, using your grip on his hair to keep him in place as you moaned quietly.

If this is what kind of time Billy Hargrove was worth, than you didn’t mind at all.

[argylemikewheeler]

omg, can i just first off say how much i love your account and writing???? it’s awesome my dude! prompt idea: steve protecting will and mike from bullies after they come out, and the kids and steve just having a lot of moments of love and cuteness

minor homophobic language. but major big brother!Steve. also ily anon

Somehow, Steve Harrington started driving Mike to school. He picked up the entire party, actually– except Will since his mother still insisted she see him off to school everyday. Steve switched seamlessly from driving Nancy to school to her brother and his two friends. Mike didn’t mind the excuse to avoid the bike ride in the cold weather. It was also nice to have a high schooler drop Mike off at middle school– he needed every perk he could get before hitting high school himself. Steve didn’t mind being seen with them and picking them up from AV club. Steve was a pretty alright big brother, if Mike had to put him to it.

Wednesday morning, Mrs. Byers was earlier than usual and Will was leaning up against the bike rack as Steve pulled up. Mike waved from the backseat, Lucas and Dustin behind him.

“Alright, last stop, gents. Everyone out!” Steve said, clapping his hands on the steering wheel. “I’ve got a hot date with first period history I cannot be late to again.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Dustin said, clapping his shoulder before sliding out the driver’s side, Lucas and Mike getting out on the passenger side.

Mike made a direct line from the car to Will, smiling and holding a hand out to take his, if only for a moment before going through the front doors; Lucas was already trying to find Max in the mass of moving students. It was only fair. Unfortunately, before Mike’s hand could even reach Will’s, a body intercepted his vision of Will, strong arms pushing him back and shouting down at him.

“Get that shit out of my school, fairy!” The boy looked familiar but Mike hadn’t learned his name yet. He knew the minute he learned it, he’d have the subconscious need to report him. He didn’t want to get involved. “You disgust me.”

“Thank you.” Mike grumbled, rolling onto his knees and pushing himself to his feet. Will stood against the bike rack, afraid to move any closer.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, eyeing the people staring at him. The boy was still loitering, looking at Will with terrifying focus. Mike nodded, grinning at Will to try and avoid the tense frown trying to form as he felt blood spread through the knees of his new corduroys. Hopefully the mud would  block some of the stain.

“What did I say?” The boy came back again, shouldering Mike back as he stepped up to Will. “Get that fag shit away from here, Wheeler. You have no place here!”

“Hey hey hey, what did you just say to him?” Mike whipped around to see Steve climbing out of his illegally parked car. His sleeves were rolled and Mike could see his forearm flex as he curled and uncurled his fingers into a tight, firm fist. Dustin and Lucas were walking back towards Mike and Will, noting the mud on his pants and the fearful stare on Will’s face.

“Oh, is your Mommy here, Wheeler?” The boy said, spitting a laugh at Steve.

“I asked you a question, dicknose.” Steve said, stopping by Mike and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What did you just say to Mike?”

“I called him a fag. Do you know what that word means?” He teased Steve, folding his arms and staring up at Steve like he was an eclipse, the shadow casting over his face but his eyes squinted in anger. “It’s what you call freaks that deserve it enough to be dead.”

“Wrong answer.” Steve laughed, grabbing the kid by the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. “Now, I know that your brain is far too puny to jostle around in your head, but I’m only going to say this once, understood? You leave Mike and Will alone. By themselves. Unbothered by you. Understand?”

“Oh, and you think I’m scared of you?” The boy’s words faltered but he acted like they were barbed enough to slice through Steve’s grip. It only made it stronger. “You’re just a pussy.”

“And you are one remark away to being a name on a gravestone, do you understand me?” Steve said, shaking the boy in his grasp. “They aren’t hurting you. And frankly, hating gay people isn’t cool, asshat. You shouldn’t be scared of them because they are different or whatever the fuck you think they’ll do to you. You should be scared because gay people can kick your ass just as much as any straight person.”

“Oh yeah?” The kid laughed, his feet kicking out towards Steve lamely.

Steve pulled the kid to his nose, staring into his eyes like he was trying to pierce his eyes with invisible pins. “Yeah. I’d know.” He dropped the boy, his knees buckling and collapsing at Steve’s feet. He scrambled back, sputtering and trying to snap back at Steve. Mike grabbed Will by the shoulder and pulled him out of the way of the boy’s clambering run. Steve put an arm on Mike’s shoulder, his hand resting on Will’s back.

“Why’d you say that?” Will asked, peering up at Steve. Steve was watching the boy scamper away with a stiff expression, not holding the expected prideful smirk. “You aren’t gay… Are you Steve?”

“No. But, I mean, why does he need to know that?” Steve shrugged. “I just bought you guys guaranteed fear for the next four years. As far as he’s concerned, you guys are going to become me. And I mean, come on, you should be so lucky.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Mike muttered, squinting at Steve. “I don’t think he thinks that.”

“Well,  then it looks like I have to start walking you to your first period.” Steve said, clapping them both on the back. “I can scare a few thirteen-year-olds. No problem. I’ll teach you how.”

“I want to know how to pick them up by their shirts!” Will said, laughing and leaning against Mike’s side. He flexed his arms jokingly, pretending the shirt was ripping around his arms.

“You’re gonna need the space girl for that, noodle-arms.” Steve said, winking at Will. “But maybe I can get Mike to do the heavy lifting for you. You can do all the insults.”

“Good cop, bad cop!” Will agreed, folding his arms and mulling the idea over. He nodded at Steve and he clicked his tongue at him, winking again.

“I just saw Kevin go in running. Is everything okay?” Dustin asked, partially laughing at the scared bully. He watched from a distance but hadn’t heard the exchange, hadn’t heard Steve’s tactic.

“Perfect.” Steve said, shrugging as if it was a simple question. “Just some people pushing my buddies around. We’re all good. You? Have anyone I need to push around?”

“No. No, we’re okay.” Lucas shook his head, looking to his friends for agreement.

“Yeah, us too. Thanks, Steve.” Mike said. He adjusted his bag on his back and reached down for Will’s hand. He reached back with a strong grip, neither of them scared with their friends slowly circling around them. Mike had never felt that happy at school before; maybe the rest of eighth grade wouldn’t be a horrible experience. He’d always have his friends– and Steve. “We better get going… Shouldn’t you too Steve?”

“Yeah, don’t you have a quiz or something?” Will spoke to Steve although he was staring at his and Mike’s hands.

“Nah. I’d rather be a part of changing history than just listening to some old guy teach it.” He said, still standing tall beside them. He scanned the entrance, his eyes dragging over to students that loitered for too long. “You guys are more important than any goddamn quiz.”

“Ew, you sound like our parents.” Lucas laughed, shaking his head with a scrunched up face.

“Fine. Let me rephrase.” Steve cleared his throat and placed his hands on his hips looking at each boy directly. “You dipshits don’t deserve this garbage. Better?”

“Better.” Mike nodded. He and Will began walking towards the school, turning back to speak to Steve one last time. “See you at three?”

“I’ll be here.” Steve promised. “I’m always going to be here.”

ao3

[13tth]

Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Eleven/Max

Summary: 

“I bet you real money, or rides, or smokes— whatever you want, that you can’t get Jane to sleep with you by the end of next semester.” Lucas looks almost proud of himself when he steps back, glancing over his shoulder at the group of girls wielding pom-poms, seemingly flying. Seemingly touching the sun.

“You fall in love, you lose.”

Notes:  I SAW SOME OF MY MUTUALS (i think) TALKING ABOUT A PUNK!MAX AND CHEERLEADER!EL AU AND I WANTED TO BRING IT TO LIFE SO I DID

Words: 1.3k

Chapter 1/?

Read on ao3

September 1988

“I think the only thing that would be more cliche,” Max brushes a few pebbles from where they’re trapped in the skin of her palms and lifts an orange flame to her lips. A piece of her hair falls in front of her face and she blows it away with a puff of smoke. “Is if he was on the football team.”

Lucas— for a second— throws his head back and sighs, content with imagining, before letting out a light laugh to accompany his friend’s. He extends a grabbing hand to retrieve their shared cigarette. Max scowls but hands it over. “He wouldn’t last a day on the football team,” Lucas exhales, letting the smoke blow back into Max’s face. He licks his lips, tasting the familiar orange soda flavor of Max’s chapstick. She’s used the same kind since middle school.

“Are you sure?” She asks, sarcastically. She brushes her hair out of her eyes this time with her right hand. It’s shorter now than it used to be. Only coming to rest in waves on her shoulders, but it’s thick and tangles annoyingly. She throws a smirk Lucas’ way. “I heard trumpet players have a pretty mean punt.”

“You’re just jealous, Mayfield,” Lucas lifts his head from where it lies, disgustingly, on the ground next to a pile of chewed gum and a shoe with a hole in the bottom. They’d found it there— under the visiting bleachers— freshman year. They’d made up a story then of who it could’ve belonged to. His name was Gary, and he’d OD’ed in ‘76. They took his lifeless, dirty body, but left his shoe. Lucas forgets how they’d explained the unusually large hole, but it hasn’t moved since, and they keep coming back to make sure of it. And to smoke.

“Yeah, Sinclair? Of what?” Max shrinks, nervously, taking one last drag of the cigarette and stubbing it out rigidly against the bottom of her boot before Lucas can protest. She crosses a pair of intensely freckled arms then, trying to ignore her heart rate.

Lucas smiles.

Fuck yo-

“Of his relationship with Jane Hopper,” Lucas boasts, although quiet. Like it’s a confession and a secret wrapped up in one with a ribbon on top. Max wants to spit in the dirt and rub the mud into his teeth.

“If there’s one thing I’m not it’s jealous of Mike Wheeler,” Max scoffs, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. She prays her voice doesn’t waver. She prays the red on her cheeks can be explained by her fair skin in the sun, but Lucas knows her. He knows her better than anyone.

“Cmon, Max. Even I’ve been jealous of Mike before,” He stretches his arms above his head, scratching the strip of skin exposed just beneath his shirt at the motion. Max winces. “He’s— okay he’s not cool. Um…he’s smart. That must’ve been it.”

“Maybe you have it bad for Jane.” Max teases, pushing two fingers into Lucas’ side, causing him to yelp in a mixture of pain and pink, tickled laughter.

He gets back at her by pinching her forearm, just where her pushed-up sleeve meets her elbow. She squeals.

“Yeah sure, lemme just drop my own crush problems. There they go, out the fucking window,” He rants, animatedly pretending to throw a ball of problems through a windowpane. Max swears she hears glass shatter. “You need to own up to your problem, Max it’s the first step.”

Max withdraws, slightly, rolling her eyes to the west where the sun has already begun sinking in the sky. Just enough for the light to shine across Lucas’ eyes and for him to squint in the way he has since they’d met 4 years ago. It makes her insides warm in a way that makes her squirm. It’s not romantic, no, but nostalgic. The line doesn’t sound rude to anyone else’s ears but hers, and that’s only because anger isn’t her friend, but she’s working on it for the good of the dumb kids she calls friends. So she takes a deep breath before falling into Lucas’ side, her chin digging sharply into the meat of his shoulder. “I really don’t have a problem.”

“You may be my friend, and I may love you,” Lucas pets her hair and plants a kiss on top of her head. “But that’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, okay,” Max rolls her eyes again but drops it.

The pair springs up at the sound of loud voices across the football field, brushing debris of the backs of their pants and clearing the air of any lingering plumes. Pretending like they’d been on their way to class and had just stumbled and fallen into hiding was often their only defense against curious faculty. Lucas acts like he’s been shot when his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “I have an idea.”

“Shoot,” Max squints through the openings of the bleacher stairs, making sure they’re in the clear before stepping out from behind the metal beams, skateboard under her arm. Lucas lightly jogs to catch up to her stride. He’s about 4-5 inches taller than her now, but her legs are long and her stare and the rips in her clothes are intimidating. With all the extra room due to people getting out of her way, she walks faster than most people skip.

“How about a little wager,” Lucas proposes, coming to a stop a ways away from the sidelines of the football field used for practices. Its current occupants: varsity cheer. Max slows down, reflexively placing the cigarette she’d pulled from her shirt pocket behind her ear like she’d been caught. “Wanna hear it?”

“I already said shoot,” Max raises an eyebrow, but shuts her mouth and waits for Lucas to continue.

Her arms cross again, and Lucas thinks it’s almost laughable how small she looks from his perspective. Though he’d never say so, due to past threats consisting, vaguely, of ripping off certain parts of his body that he’d really rather keep.

“I bet you real money, or rides, or smokes— whatever you want, that you can’t get Jane to sleep with you by the end of next semester.” Lucas looks almost proud of himself when he steps back, glancing over his shoulder at the group of girls wielding pom-poms, seemingly flying. Seemingly touching the sun.

Max almost laughs. Her eyes bug in her head and she has to hold back a scoff no one smaller than 8 feet tall has ever dared to let slip. It would be too much, too forceful, too loud for a “lady of her size” as her stepmother puts it. Instead, she thrusts a heavy hand into the air in front of her and stands tall, holding her chin high.

“Hold on, one rule.” Lucas shakes a finger in her direction, before stiffly spinning around and circling her in the dirt. Quite dramatically. Quite like Lucas.

He seems to almost be pondering over what to make the rule himself, and Max opens her mouth to intervene when he shushes her quickly.

“You fall in love, you lose.”

It isn’t a hard rule. It shouldn’t be, but Max finds her arm growing weak and her fingers twitching to drop. It may be her brain seeing into the future, as it often does, but it also might just be her natural instinct to be wary of promises and conditions. She can never tell. She exhales, reinforcing her posture before looking Lucas in the eye.

“Not for nothing, Sinclair” She spits into her palm and offers it back out to Lucas who in turn, spits in his own palm and takes his friend’s hand roughly. A spit pact is just as unbreakable as an ink one. If not, even more. “But you’re gonna lose.”

“I guess we’ll see, but for now,” He suddenly sounds rushed, pulling Max into his side by her shoulders and twirling them both around swiftly to face the sun and, beautifully, the music. “You have a cheerleader to stalk.”