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unwanted-animal · 11 months

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Tags: Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Magical Tattoos, Womb Tattoo, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Slurs, Mpreg, Hand Jobs, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Eddie Munson Fluff, Insecurity, Cesarean Section, Birth, Medical Procedures, Domestic Fluff

Words: 14,188 (complete!)

Ship: Mungrove

The people of Hawkins liked to talk. Gossip was popular among the residents - who was seeing who, who was taking what, rumors of plastic surgery or adultery or work difficulties or poverty… They loved it all. Naturally, when Wayne Munson was seen carrying a plastic cradle into the trailer he shared with his nephew, the neighbors began to brainstorm. Had Eddie gotten some poor girl knocked up? Wasn’t it strange that he’d put on weight? Didn’t his stomach look weird beneath his shirt? Was he babysitting for someone? Where had they been for the better part of the week?

Eddie spent the next few months recovering at home. Wayne and Billy helped with bathing him and taking care of Ronnie while he healed, and every day Eddie grew stronger. Billy got a job working with Wayne at the plant to bring in money for Ronnie’s diapers and formula. It got him away from Neil too, so he didn’t exactly mind the work.

It took six months of everyone saving - and Eddie dealing again, though less frequently - but they made enough to rent a proper house. It wasn’t huge, but it had two bedrooms and a finished basement where Wayne could stay. He sold the trailer and they moved in with some help from the Byers and Wheeler families.

Will always watched them with awe, noticing the little touches and smiles they exchanged. Eddie caught him staring once. Billy had slipped his hand into Eddie’s back pocket, thinking the coast was clear. Will’s eyes widened as he lifted a box from the van. Eddie knew that look - it held no judgment, no derision, just curiosity. Eddie winked at him and pressed a quick kiss to Billy’s cheek. Will smiled shyly and nodded his head. He wouldn’t tell. If they could trust anyone with their secret, it was Will Byers.

They had ironed out their story beforehand, in case anyone helping asked. Ronnie was Eddie’s little sister, obviously, adopted by Wayne just like he’d adopted Eddie. And if Eddie and Billy doted on her more than was expected, if they were the only ones seen taking her on walks or buying baby products, no one said anything.

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Ronnie was growing. She babbled happily to anyone who would listen, making noises as she showed off her toys or books. She wasn’t quite walking, but she could crawl the length of the house on her own. Strawberry blonde curls crowned her head, and she loved to sit in front of the mirror in the hall and play with them. Billy and Eddie were constantly having to rescue her toys from her mouth. Ronnie loved to suck and nibble on things she shouldn’t, including the tv remote and VHS tapes and Eddie’s cassettes, and she’d fuss when one of her fathers tried to get her to take her pacifier instead.

A spirited girl who often threw tantrums when things didn’t go her way, she definitely took after Billy. Her favorite was Eddie, though. She loved to play with his thick hair and chew on it when he wasn’t paying attention, and she’d crawl to him first whenever she had the chance. They bought her teething rings, but unless Billy rubbed a little bit of warm milk or baby food on them she would spit them out.

“You’re spoiling her, baby,” Eddie teased, wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I am not. I’m giving her what she deserves. It’s not my fault that’s the whole world,” Billy fired back with a smirk.

“Drinks tonight after Ronnie’s in bed?”

“I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date, Billy.”

That night Billy read The Very Busy Spider to Ronnie, showing her the pictures as she lay in her crib. She giggled and reached for them at first, but with a belly full of formula and a warm blanket around her, Billy’s voice soon soothed her to sleep. He finished the story and kissed her forehead, then turned off the light.

For now, her crib was in their bedroom. When she was bigger they’d move her into the second one, which was currently a nursery-in-progress. Eddie had plans to ask Will to help him paint a cool mural for her - maybe a princess riding a dragon, or a princess jamming out on a guitar… Something badass but cute, with big ‘Side Of A Van’ energy.

Eddie sat on the couch with two cold beers in hand, a gentle smile on his face.

“She loves your voice.”

“And she loves your everything,” Billy replied, sinking down beside him. “I can’t wait until she starts reading on her own. I want her to read to us sometime. She’s gonna be brilliant.”

“Not if she takes after me,” Eddie laughed.

Billy took one of the beers and cracked it open.

“Wanna sit outside with me?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed.

He stood up and took Billy’s hand. They headed out through the kitchen to the back porch, where three chairs sat in a half circle. They sat beside each other - at night, with the lights out, no one could see them. Billy lit two cigarettes and offered one to Eddie. He took it gratefully. Despite cutting back in general, their late-night smokes were something he loved. It felt luxurious, an indulgence with his boyfriend. His…

Eddie took a slow drag, the cherry burning bright.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” Billy asked, his cigarette hanging from his soft lips.

Eddie couldn’t help but stare. Billy was fucking beautiful. He always had been. And now, fatherhood gave him a glow he hadn’t had before. Even when he came home stained with oil and exhausted, Eddie found him to be the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen.

And Eddie… Eddie loved him.

They’d never said it. Not aloud, not to each other. Eddie was afraid of ruining their relationship. What if it was too much for Billy? How devastating it would be to confess his love only for Billy to run away. To leave them. His heart pounded in his chest as smoke filtered out from his nose.

“… Yeah.”

Eddie took Billy’s hand in his own and set his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Billy Hargrove. I… I love you.”

Billy took his cigarette out of his mouth and set it beside Eddie’s.

“Is that what’s been worrying you lately?”

“I mean, yeah. Yeah, that’s pretty big on my list of anxieties. Telling you how I really feel. Wondering how you feel. Losing you.”

Billy pulled him out of his chair and into his lap. It was one fluid motion, so quick Eddie barely had time to react. He shifted a little on his knees, sitting sideways across Billy’s legs. He smelled like baby powder and Marlboro Reds, with the faintest hint of cologne still clinging to his skin.

“Eddie Munson, I love you too.”

Without hesitation Eddie kissed him, cupping his face and blinking away the tears that threatened to rise. He didn’t give a shit if someone saw. Billy loved him back.

Billy Hargrove loved him.

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Ronnie Jinx Munson sat among her blocks, idly chewing on the letter L. Drool ran down the plastic and spilled onto the carpet. Her father Eddie stood in the room with a smaller person, someone she recognized but not really well. They were talking, their voices loud and excited. She was excited too!

So excited that the blocks around her began to lift from the floor and spin in the air like tops. She giggled and clapped her hands, watching them, mesmerized.

The noise drew Will and Eddie’s attention.

“What the hell?!” Will exclaimed. “How is - is she doing that?”

Ronnie’s eyes went wide and the blocks fell to the ground. Was she in trouble?

“Oh, shit,” Eddie breathed. “Billy! Get in here! We’ve got a problem!”

THE END

As a bonus, I used Picrew to make a teenage Ronnie :3 she has Billy’s hair and freckles, Eddie’s eye and dimples, and the attitude of both of them 🩵

#Mungrove #Mungrovefic #Strangerthingsfic #Billy Hargrove #Eddie Munson #jwrites #Stranger Things

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stever-things · 2 years

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Memories | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, Billy Hargrove has been in your life. You don't have a single memory of life before him. And for the past year, you've had to make memories without him.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, death

For as long as you can remember, Billy Hargrove has been in your life. You don't have a single memory of life before him. And for the past year, you've had to make memories without him.

Ever since he moved to Indiana, your contact with him has been scarce. Every once in a while, you'd get a phone call from him asking how you've been, and you'd ask about how he was doing—and he'd magically "have to go".

You knew things between him and his father were anything but good, and every night you dreamed of the day that he would be set free of him. You dreamed of a day where he would come back to California and sweep you off your feet. Neither were very likely to happen.

Until one night, when you were having a sleepover with one of your best friends, painting each others nails bright pinks and blues, your mom/dad/guardian knocked on your door.

"Honey, Billy's on the phone for you." They said, causing your eyes to widen.

Glancing down at your best friend, you broke out into a mad grin, your cheeks flushed as you ran out of the room, down the hallway, and to the phone in the living room.

Taking it off of hold, you held the phone to your ear, fingers messing with the cord, "Billy?"

"Hey." He said, nonchalantly.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your nerves, "Hey, how've you been?"

That's when you heard it. A sniffle. Then a sob. Then radio silence.

You gave him a minute to collect himself before softening your voice, "Billy? What happened?"

He lowered his voice, "You know what happened."

Of course you knew what happened. Fucking Neil happened.

"How bad is it?"

"I'm bleeding. Just a little bit but I'm bleeding," He winced, "And I've got a nasty ass bruise starting on my head. I'm sore everywhere, Y/N. It hurts like a mother."

You pursed your lips, "I'm sorry, Billy. I know there's nothing I can do to make you feel better and that kills me. I wish I could do more."

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"I miss California."

"California misses you, too."

You swear, just for a second, that you heard him laugh. And you smiled at the thought of bringing some sort of peace to him.

"I'm telling you, baby, as soon as I get enough money—I'm on my way home. To Cali. To you."

He never called you baby. Ever.

"Billy..." You trailed off, the first of many tears falling down your cheek, "Me and Cali will be waiting for you."

Silence.

"Hey, Y/N, I've gotta go. If my dad catches me on the phone, he'll kill me. But I wanted you to know that I love you. Damn, I love you."

"Billy," Your voice cracked, "I love—"

"Shit!" He exclaimed, "I've gotta go. Talk to you soon."

And the line went dead.

You were left in the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch, listening to the buzzing of the phone.

The next time you heard Billy's name was when your mom/dad/guardian sat you down in your room, took you by the hands and warned you to brace yourself before taking out a newspaper clipping.

You took it in your hands, reading "Obituaries" across the top. In small, bold letters, was the name "William Hargrove".

In that moment, you knew that you'd never make a memory with Billy for the rest of your life.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billyhargrove #billy hargrove x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #strangerthings #stranger things #billy hargrove one shot #billy Hargrove fluff #billy Hargrove angst #billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x y/n #strangerthingsfic #billy #hargrove

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redlegumes · 1 year

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Doodle for Chapter 9: Valentine's Day

#Steddie #Strangerthingsfic #smut #butt #eddiemunson #eddie munson #stevieharrington #stevie harrington #steve harrington #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #stranger things #if i was a worm #doodles

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reospeeddragon · 1 year

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eddie munson x og female character

Hazy Shade of Winter - a Stranger Things fanfic

Act I: Twilight Zone

"Help I'm stepping into the twilight zone

The place is a madhouse,

Feels like being cloned

My beacon's been moved under moon and star

Where am I to go, now that I've gone too far?"

POV: Winter Reid

I suppose growing up in any suburb in any corner of America in 1986 is largely the same. There are all the markers of a "thriving" small town.

A locally owned grocery market, a brick library building, sheriff cars rolling down quiet streets looking to catch teens getting high in the alleyway outside the movie theater. You will probably pass a quaint elementary school just steps from the high school, where kids park their bikes and teenagers park their cars not too far apart. And, of course, it wouldn't be the 1980s without the local video store.

Inside, two teens stock the shelves with movies about young boys riding their bikes searching for buried treasure, movies about girls who sit in class and pine after the jock with the luscious hair who sits with his feet up on his desk one row ahead of her, or, if it's to your taste, scary movies, ones full of nightmares, kids toys gone wrong, or brushes with something extraordinary and extraterrestrial.

The neon, the flashing lights, the fireworks... it all keeps our heads swiveling. We look incessantly for opportunities to waste hard-earned dollars on the latest trend or gadget.

Madonna and Michael J. Fox.

Walkmans and Weird Science.

Hair Metal Bands and Farrah Fawcett Hairspray.

It's the simple life, right? Everyone is looking for distraction.

Mom sets a casserole on the table at dinnertime and secretly crushes on the lifeguard at the community pool. A teen turns up the radio in her room and sneaks out of the window to meet a boy in an idling Ford outside. Dad grabs a can of beer, leans back in his la-z-boy, and laughs at sitcoms on TV.

Follow the trends, don't look up.

It makes people feel safe. It makes people feel normal. But Hawkins is far from normal.

Ignorance can be bliss. We try not to worry too much about the missing boy from the outskirts of town or how the brand-new mall tragically burnt down in the summer of '85. Those are unpleasant events in small-town life, the dark underbelly living under all the newness.

If you can, you will ignore it.

The illusion begins to waver once you leave the big houses with their long driveways and Reagan/Bush 84 lawn signs. If you travel outwards, you'll pass dense trees and black roads littered with potholes.

A deer struck by a car is left out in the cold, taking its last shuddering breaths in the ditch - its eyes watch the first few drops of rain beginning to fall. This is the edge of Americana, not as shiny or as new, but real nonetheless. A lopsided wooden sign at the top of a sloping dirt drive reads:

Forest Hills Trailer Park

Trailers sit at odd angles like monopoly pieces left out in the mud, abandoned by a careless child. They are identical in their desolation, with the same rectangular shape and dirty exteriors. There aren't any pools or lawns unless you count the clumps of grass spread across the dirt like patches of hair on a balding man's skull.

People live here, too, although no one thinks much of them. We all go to the same schools because there is just one Hawkins High and one Hawkins Middle. Inside the trailers, you'll see people working to live. They get home after a long shift to their quiet box and find comfort in a microwave dinner and a can of beer.

The drink is not entirely cooled because the fridges here are always lukewarm, but they open it and sip nonetheless. They're trying to be oblivious, too, although it's much harder when you don't have all the modern comforts to stack around you and create a wall between yourself and reality.

The air smells different here - it isn't spiced with pies cooling on window sills or the scent of fresh-cut lawn. The wind cuts sharper against the exposed cheeks of the residents. Lights buzz and flicker at random. Stray cats drink out of muddy puddles. Sheets hang on clotheslines, billowing and floating like ghosts in a graveyard.

It's quiet here... well, quiet enough. Eventually, you get used to the sound of the guitar blaring from the Munson trailer or the incessant barking from the Johnson's dog. Even the sounds from the woods, the low groans and chitters, it all turns to white noise at some point.

We do our best here. You learn to accept what you can't change and find comfort in dreams and wishes.

I remember sitting outside on the picnic table a few days after the mall fire. Eddie Munson stood smoking on his porch. He wore cut-off blue jean shorts - a chain hung through the belt loops on his right hip. He held his arms out like a tightrope walker, setting one black hightop converse shoe down, then the other right in front.

He walked heel to toe and tried to maintain a straight line, tongue poking between his teeth in concentration. He wore a white sleeveless band tee - the fabric frayed over his tanned arms.

I was dressed in a pale sundress. My oversized denim jacket slipped lightly off my shoulders and hung at my elbows. I could feel the warm sun graze my upper back as my pencil sketched across the blank page in front of me.

"I can't believe the mayor's precious mega mall is now a pile of ashes," Eddie said and set a cigarette between his lips. He took a long puff and tilted his chin up, blowing the smoke upwards.

"People died, Eddie."

I looked over at him and drew my eyebrows together, bothered by his lack of sensitivity. He met my gaze with a small smile. He always found my tendency towards compassion a little naive.

"What's the official story?" He tilted his head. "Oh yeah... Teenagers break in and set off a Roman Candle through skylight."

His voice boomed like a newscaster reading a scrolling headline. One hand lifted, and his fingers stretched to resemble a firework bursting in the air as he made an explosion sound effect.

He looked at me with his lips pursed into a smirk. I shook my head at him in disapproval. This caused his lips to part into a full grin. He jumped off of the porch steps and shuffled over to me. He sat on the picnic bench, his legs straddling the seat, and faced me. I focused on tracing the stem of a marigold, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"I'd say it's a win in the battle against conservative, conformist culture," he said.

I didn't look up. I was unimpressed by his big words.

He smiled slowly and continued, "Now that they've burnt down their precious The Gap and hot dog on a stick... where, oh, where will the moms go to do Jazzercise now?" He waved a hand dismissively and cigarette smoke curled in the air.

I snorted out a laugh. He leaned in, trying to force me to pay attention to him.

I finally rolled my eyes over to his.

"Well, with any luck, maybe the moms will move their Jazzercise club here. That way, you can watch them from your bedroom window."

He scoffed, "Yeah, that's not really my type."

"Don't lie, Eddie. I know you have a secret thing for Olivia Newton-John." I batted my eyelashes at him innocently.

His hand suddenly reached over and snatched my pencil.

"Hey!" I protested.

He leaned back, the pencil twirled through his fingers and rolled along his knuckles.

"This town is cursed, Winnie," he said, using the nickname he picked out for me when I first moved here... even though I hate it.

"It's just another Hawkins tragedy."

I reached for my pencil. He slid backward on the bench and taunted me by swishing my pencil through the air.

I set my elbow down on the table and leaned my cheek into my palm.

"Just like that boy who everyone thought was dead two years ago. Just like the pumpkins that were all poisoned last Halloween..." I shrugged. "Shit happens."

Eddie smiled and leaned forward, offering me the pencil back. I reached out for it, but he snatched it back again and quickly tucked it behind his ear. He slapped his thighs and hopped up on the bench. I looked up at him, bewildered.

"What are you doing?"

He held his cigarette in one hand, which hung by his side, the other slowly raised to his mouth, forming a fist. Suddenly, a discordant jumble of sounds fell out of his mouth, causing me to flinch and let out a surprised giggle. His neck snapped left to right, and he continued to produce a sound effect that I gathered was meant to sound like radio static.

He jumped atop the picnic table, towering above me and looking as if he was on a stage. I held my breath in anticipation, unsure what he would do next.

He began to speak softly into his closed fist as if it was a walkie-talkie.

"Status report: USA, Indiana, 1985..." He enunciated every letter in 1985; his body remained still while his eyes darted around him as if he were observing something foreign. "This is Starman speaking. It seems the American dream experiment has gone horribly, horribly wrong. Somehow, the creatures who inhabit this place made a wrong left turn straight into conformism and unchecked capitalism. No signs of intelligent life anywhere, but... plenty of fried foods."

I stared at him in amusement as he pointed his still smoldering cigarette at me.

"I have just found one being with an IQ higher than 75."

I looked behind me quickly, then back at him and mouthed me?, finding it hard to resist playing along.

"She informs me that the outlook here is bleak. My ship crash-landed and is beyond repair. I seem to only have two options," Eddie sighed.

His voice grew low and sounded defeated.

"One, enter the ranks and join a weird ritual where men sweat on each other. I believe they call it a sports team." His eyebrows knitted together. "The creatures of the male variety here seem devoid of any basic communication skills or emotional depth. They seem to have designed an entire system of ball throwing and back-slapping just to allow them to touch one another and express affection without being judged."

He made a good point, and I found myself nodding my head in agreement.

"My second option..." he continued. "Fling myself off the nearest cliff and promptly dive into the unknown."

He lowered his closed fist and raised the cigarette, sucking the smoke into his lungs. He thought to himself for a moment.

He rolled his neck around as if coming to a difficult decision.

He cleared his throat and continued, "This is Starman again. Informing HQ that this will be my last transmission."

I watched as he sauntered to the end of the picnic table, the toes of his shoes tipped past the edge.

He raised his head - a steely determination lit up his deep brown eyes.

Once more, he raised the closed fist to his lips and whispered wistfully, "It has been a pleasure serving with you boys. Starman, signing off. Over and out."

His voice mimicked static again as if the "radio" call had abruptly ended.

He stood on the edge of the table and flicked his cigarette. He turned and gave me a wink and a two-fingered salute, then dramatically fell forward to his "death". I gasped loudly in surprise as he plummeted forward and fell onto his back.

I watched as he lay convulsing on the ground and pretended like blood was spurting from his chest. I slowly brought my hands together in light applause.

"Outstanding performance, Eddie," I shook my head in amusement at his theatrics. "But I think Sigourney Weaver made a better point about the destruction of humanity... and she looked better doing it."

He was still on his back in the dirt, but his eyes rolled over to meet mine. A look of offense passed over his face, and he slowly held up one middle finger in my direction. I laughed and slammed my sketchbook shut.

Was he dramatic? Yes. But he's not totally wrong.

Hawkins is full of people pretending and conforming, but not Eddie Munson. He'll stand on the cafeteria tables at school and give a loud rebel yell while the boys in his Hellfire club are sitting there, watching him with sparkling admiration. Most days, I wish I was more like him. Instead, I clutch my books and walk down the hallway, observing life blurring past me.

Forest Hills Trailer Park's homes are certainly not split-level ranch houses on Oak Street. The first two trailers you'll see as you drive in stand opposite of each other, separated by a patch of dirt. In the back bedroom of the one on the right, a teen boy headbangs while Poison blares in his room. Across the way, a girl sits at her desk and sketches a wildflower while a Fleetwood Mac vinyl spins on the console in the corner.

more chapters published on Wattpad & ao3

title: Hazy Shade of Winter

author: REOspeeddragon

#eddiemunson #stranger things #eddie munson fic #strangerthingsfic #fanfic #eddiemunsonfanfic #strangerthings4 #eddiemunsondeservesbetter #fanficstrangerthings #ogfemalecharacter #Spotify

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yellowdaisy2023 · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, technically, House Party, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Nervousness, for like two seconds, Fluff, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting Summary:

Steve stumbles upon his crush in his room at one of his house parties.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie #fanfic #fanfiction #steddie fic #strangerthingsfic

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topcatnikki · 1 year

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Impact Records smells of cheap joss sticks and even cheaper weed, not the most glowing of recommendations, but they're the only thing even close to an alt store in the vicinity.

or, Eddie Munson can be even pettier than the pettiest of the alt music scene and he's not afraid to show it.

#steddie #strangerthingsfics #my fics #this is gratuous pwp and I blame only myself #sometime you just need to write an incredibly in depth deep dive into 80s alt music scene for science my guys

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florencewellch · 1 year

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Can the fans of Eddie and Robin's friendship (I hope its just friendship and not ppl shipping them) use another name for that dynamics that isn't Reddie? That name belongs to Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak

#you all already took steddie for steve and eddie when that ship name was stan and eddie and steveddie or harrimunson were available #enough of the strangerthingsfication of it! enough!#jake.txt

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marsi-is-depressed · 1 year

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Jailbird || Stranger Things - twenty-three ➵ burning up (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/997536243-jailbird-stranger-things-twenty-three-%E2%9E%B5-burning-up?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=marcilineemogirl&wp_originator=OauKNrqq3VMNyzbwmXQr9st0SPEGhtNtYtGdpddMqQWQvRHSHMjUIksl0Qqz2SPSkFvIhAkCAZMK0Ejk6PMN5jwLfWOrxk5t%2FYdWbxAJey8gYH3cG3qcJvDmV1EuPqJn "You planned out a scrapyard showdown and didn't think to invite your friendly neighbourhood barbarian? I'm hurt." ☾ Before the vanishing of Will Byers, there was the strange case of Teresa Hopper. After the strange case of Will Byers, there was the stranger case of Chief Hopper's jailbird daughter. ☽ [steve harrington x oc slow burn seasons 2&3 some mature language] Updates 1-2 times a week, part 3 of 5 in progress ✨ [ #1 jonathanbyers #1 upsidedown #1 willbyers #1 hawkins #1 st4 #1 idiotsinlove #1 dustinhenderson #2 strangerthingsfic #3 joekeery #3 chiefhopper #3 Indiana #3 maxmayfield #3 robinbuckley #4 lucassinclair #4 steveharrington #4 jimhopper #4 davidharbour #5 stranger things ] This book is by hawkins-marauders on wattpad

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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“Come on, your little campaign has gone on long enough, I have to be somewhere later tonight,” Steve said grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his arm.

“Yeah Eddie’s,” Dustin crooned.

Steve grabbed Dustin by the collar and yanked him up from his seat, “come on chuckle heads your chaperone is leaving in 1, 2...”

“Fine!” Dustin shouted, shaking Steve off of him and starting to collect his stuff.

Lucas and Will began to follow suit but Mike leaned over towards Will.

“Hey,” he said and watched in pure agony as those long lashes flicked up so his eyes could meet Mike’s.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to stay over? It’s been like an eternity and I have this new campaign I’m working on and I was wondering-”

“What we’re not invited?” Dustin said feigning hurt.

“Of course not,” Lucas said, getting up from his seat, “they’ve always been like this.”

Mike frowned, “Like what?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and grabbed Dustin by his backpack, dragging him along.

“Tick tock Byers, if you want that ride home,” Steve called as he began ascending the staircase.

“Uh, thanks Steve but I think I’ll stay,” Will called back and Mike smiled.

Mike tried to pay attention, he really did, as Will sat next to him going over his next campaign with him, but it was not easy.

They’d already showered and Will’s hair was curling slightly from being damp. He also got this cute look on his face when he was focusing. And to add insult to injury, he was wearing Mike’s pj’s. That’s weird right? To think that’s attractive? But it was. And he looked so small in his T-shirt, and for some reason-

“Mike?” Will brought him out of his staring.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not even paying attention,” he was frowning.

Mike shrugged, “probably just tired.”

Will nodded and began shuffling papers together, “let’s go to bed then.”

Let’s go to bed then.

Were there any more torturous words in the english language than let’s go to bed then?

Mike got up from the table and began laying out Will’s sleeping bag. And if he placed it right up against the couch where he’d be sleeping well no one had to know.

Mike climbed onto the couch while Will got situated in his sleeping bag. There was a lot of shuffling as he got comfortable but once he did, he let out a sigh. And no that sigh did not do things to Mike.

Mike stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about Will laying right next to him.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come down here?”

“What?” Mike asked in shock, sitting up embarrassingly fast.

“I-nothing, it was stupid-”

“No, no, no, not at all. It’s just like when we used to have sleepovers as kids.” And Mike rushed to grab a blanket, lying it down next to Will’s sleeping bag and chucking a pillow down.

He laid down and tired not to move an inch. Was he too close? He felt like there were miles between them. But he didn’t want to make Will uncomfortable, god that would be the worst thing in the world. And if he- What?

Mike looked down at his fingers where they rested at his side, where Will’s met his tentatively. Mike didn’t need another sign from the universe, he slid his hand over Will’s.

Will sighed. And again it did nothing to Mike, no not at all.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Are you kidding?” Mike asked incredulously, turning his head to look over at Will in the darkness. Big mistake. Will was looking at him with those big eyes, they looked nervous and hopeful and there were a thousand emotions swirling in them and Mike could get lost in them forever.

Will shrugged, making their hands jostle, Mike took the opportunity to thread their fingers together. Speaking of threads he was hanging on by one.

“It’s totally reasonable for me to assume that.”

“It’s really not, have you looked at yourself?”

Will rolled his eyes, “have you looked at yourself?”

Mike frowned, “I’m nothing special.”

Will rolled his eyes again and Mike fought a smile.

Will sounded genuinely annoyed, “You do realize what you look like right?”

Mike’s smile grew, “What are you saying exactly Byers?”

Will turned over towards Mike, “you’re insufferable.”

They shared a smile. Will’s small hand squeezed Mike’s gently. And it said everything Mike needed to know.

#st #byler #byler season 4 #stranger things byler #mike and will #mike wheeler #mike x will #will x mike #will and mike #will byers #st4 #st5 #stranger things #strangerthingsvolumeII #strangerthingsseason4 #strangerthingsseason5 #strangerthingsfic #stranger things fic

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mi11even · 6 years

Text

I Feel so Cold and I Long for Your Embrace

by @mi11even

What happened after Eleven closed the gate??? For some reason, I feel really attached to the concept of what the aftermath of the fall of the Mind Flayer and the gate might have been. Although it tears me apart that we never got to see some period of relieving serenity and exhaustion, and especially a proper Mike and Eleven conversation, it’s interesting to read alternate pieces on it. Tag me in some if you know/have written any!!

AS ALWAYS DO NOT PERCEIVE MY OR ANYONE ELSE’S WORK TO BE SEXUALISING THESE KIDS!! everything is innocent and adorable please and thank you

word count: 884

summary: Eleven has closed the gate, the Mind Flayer is destroyed, Will is back to himself. After a rushed reunion and a quick goodbye before the chaos, Mike and Eleven get the chance to take in after a year apart.

Jim Hopper gave a tired sigh as he finally pulled into the driveway that led to the Byers’ home. It was a dark path buried in a sea of leaves and fallen twigs, and the night was eerily silent.

His headlights soon shone on the house, the sleepy soft lights that glowed in the windows making the house seem finally at bay. He pulled up, barely turning off the car before the door swung open and Mike Wheeler, illuminated by the heavy blue 4am sky, scurried down the porch.

Mike ran to the car, his hair messy and his eyes glowing, looking never more awake at the hour. He stopped for a moment, his eyebrows pulling together as he eyed the empty passenger seat. He nearly sprinted to the doors. “Where is she?!”

Hopper walked out, shutting his door quietly. He gave a small, tired smile to the worried boy. “She’s in the back, sleeping. Probably will be for years,” he murmured.

“She’s okay, though, isn’t she?” said Mike impatiently, glancing at him, then reaching for the handle and pulling open the door.

“She’s fine, kid,” whispered Hopper. Eleven lay across the backseat, blankets tucked carefully into her loosely spread limbs. Blood stains were spread everywhere on her face. Her clothes dirty and loose, but she slept immaculately.

“Ohmygod. El,” he whispered, his voice wavering. He smiled weakly at her sleeping face, running his hand across her forehead.

“Let me get her inside,” murmured Hopper, ruffling Mike’s hair. “It’s okay. You’ve got her now. She’s not going anywhere.”

Hopper walked in. Relieved whispers were smiled throughout the Byers’ household at seeing Eleven over his shoulder. Mike was on his toes. Joyce ran to the bathroom to run a shower after tearing up, overcome with emotion.

“El,” murmured Hopper, rubbing her back. “Wake up baby, we gotta get you clean.”

It took a few more attempts at rousing her, Hop swaying her on his shoulder, but soon enough she was rubbing her eyes and burrowing herself into his arms.

“C’mon,” whispered Hopper. “I know you’re tired, kid. The shower’s warm, then you can go back to sleep. C’mon,” he said again, putting her down. She whined but didn’t protest, blinking slowly.

“Mike?” she murmured, looking up.

“Here,” he said softly, immediately coming to her. Eleven sighed sleepily, almost in relief, falling into his arms. “I missed you,” he whispered.

Eleven hummed, her eyes slipping closed. “I’m here,” she breathed. She tucked her head into his chest.

“Okay, come on,” said Hopper, rubbing her back. “You’re gonna fall asleep again. You’ll have plenty of him later.” Eleven pulled away, reaching for Hop’s arm. She clutched it tightly as he turned to lead her to the bathroom. Hopper ruffled Mike’s hair. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Mike gave a weak smile.

“C’mon, sweetie,” motioned Joyce at the bathroom door, wrapping her arm around El.

“Thanks, Joyce,” said Hopper, his tired eyes showing the utmost gratitude.

“I’ll never be able to repay.” she smiled, her eyes glossy.

“Mike.”

Mike awoke from the cushions on the floor. They were placed next to the bed in Joyce’s room. Eleven knelt in front of him, her fingers brushing on his forehead.

]Mike knew that there was no way he was leaving her side at a time like this, as did everyone else, so no one stopped him. Joyce gave him as many spare blankets and cushions as possible with a smile, and he hastily dumped them right next to where El would sleep. He knocked out on his makeshift mattress while she was in the shower.

“Hi,” Mike breathed, sitting up. Her clear and immaculate face hit him with nostalgia, and he felt his throat tighten. The black eyeshadow dusting her eyes and the hard, slicked back look of El from half an hour ago was gone. Instead, her face was as soft and clear and she wore one of Joyce’s old t-shirts and-

Her hair.

There was so much. It was clean and also so curly, and the sweetest brown. When he looked up to her eyes, he was looking up to the most beautiful feeling of familiarity in the world. A warmth spreading through him. He felt like crying.

Mike ran his fingers along the tight but soft curls, each one sweetly delicate. He tucked them behind her ear. “So beautiful,” he said, looking up at her. El smiled, and tears ran down her cheeks.

“Hop fell asleep on the couch,” she murmured. “Come sleep with me,” she pleaded. Even though the dark circles under her eyes depicted utter exhaustion, there was a wildness in her eyes that showed that she did not want to be alone.

There was also a wildness in Mike’s eyes; it showed the fear of the possibility that El might be hurting in any way- along with the chance that he could be completely oblivious to it. It was terrifying.

So, he climbed into bed, feeling every tension that had been infuriating him for the past year escape him as Eleven curled herself into him. He tucked her closely into his chest, and they shook with tears of an indescribable relief. It didn’t last long, however, and soon, Mike Wheeler was lulled into blissful nothingness by the epitome of peace.

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unwanted-animal · 2 years

Text

Billy can feel eyes on him. That’s par for the course. It’s what he wants - that’s why he drives like a bat out of hell, why he wears clothes so tight his body is always on display, why he leave his shirts unbuttoned and why he works out. Hell, it’s why he’s out at a bar with a fake ID. He craves attention. This time it isn’t from a horny housewife, a scandalized parent, or a disapproving teacher, though.

It’s from the town freak.

Eddie Munson is a few years his senior, still not old enough to buy beer but close enough the owner of the bar lets his band play on weekends. He shouts out lyrics to a handful of drunks, grinning brightly as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He is in his element, performing with his friends, playing out his rockstar fantasy.

And his rich brown eyes are focused on Billy.

The music is good. Billy likes it, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone in his circles. He likes metal, and Eddie is the embodiment of the underground metal scene tonight. His curls frame his face like a halo, wild and untamed, and his tight black jeans and torn shirt make him look…

Good.

He looks good, Billy thinks, drinking a beer and leaning against the bar. Another thought he’d never share, not even under torture - he wasn’t supposed to think men looked good. Or sexy. Or want to slide his hands under the ripped black cotton of -

Before he knows it their set ends and instead of helping the guys put away their instruments, Eddie hops off the stage and saunters right up to him. He’s got no game, all the frenetic energy of his performance is gone, but he approaches Billy all the same.

Ballsy of him.

“Hey!” Eddie calls, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Billy idly wonders how there’s even room for that. “You’re not part of our usual audience. Billy, right?” He leans in, hair falling into his face, as he whispers “I’ve seen you on the basketball team.” Eddie winks and straightens back up. He isn’t going to rat him out. Billy breathes a slow sigh of relief.

“And you’re… I don’t know your name,” Billy lies.

“Eddie. Town pariah. Aspiring metal musician. Hookup for whatever you might need in a place like Hawkins.”

Ah. He’s trying to make a sale.

“What have you got, Eddie?”

Eddie places a hand on his arm and leads him toward a booth at the back of the bar, far from the ears of that night’s bartender. He slips into the seat and motions for Billy to follow. Normally Billy would be pissed, but he’s got a decent buzz going and Eddie is cute like minded enough for him to trust him.

“I’ve got bud mostly, but I’ve got some K and some acid back at my trailer. I can get ecstasy but it’ll be a few days, but I don’t do anything harder than that.”

He stares at Eddie, at the way he props his chin in his hand and smiles at him, and Billy starts to feel braver than he has in a while. Since California.

“Why are you the town pariah? Is it because you sell?”

“Nah, nah, man. People would love me for that. It’s ‘cause I don’t go with the flow. You know? I don’t ‘fit in’ to any of the stereotypes we’re supposed to strive for in a small town like this. I’m loud, I cuss, I drive too fast, I blare metal at night, and I don’t care about a nine to five.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, and Billy finds himself wanting to touch his hair.

“That’s it?”

“… and they know I’m different,” Eddie whispers. “Can’t even say it here. But I’m a double threat in the dating pool, if you get me.”

Fuck. Billy does. That’s the problem.

“You wanna show me what you got back at your place? I’ll race you there,” Billy says, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The smoke blooms from his plump lips and is it just him, or does Eddie look mesmerized? He grins and licks his teeth, leaving his tongue peeking out for just a moment.

He’s right. Eddie is staring.

“Yeah? You know the trailer park?”

“Kinda. Had a few dates out there.”

“Then race me there. Pay your tab!”

Eddie jumps up and hurries out to the van. He carries the instruments to shows, and everyone else is already gone. Perfect. He turns on the van and shoves in an Iron Maiden tape, and soon he’s screeching down the road toward home. Billy isn’t far behind him, tossing a twenty and a five to the bartender and racing toward his Camaro. He can outrun that big-ass tank of a van, and he knows it.

Twenty minutes later the door to Eddie’s trailer slams open, Billy’s hands on his ass and Eddie gripping the collar of his leather jacket. It’s a good thing Wayne works nights, because neither boy can keep quiet as they kiss and stumble their way toward the couch.

#mungrove #beddie #billy Hargrove #Eddie munson #jwrites #strangerthingsfic

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savingacadia · 6 years

Note

Byler prompt: the boys are trying to immitate their older siblings by lamely attempting to hunt a monster and spend the whole time trying to convince themselves they're not hopelessly in love (in the end they're happy and gay) they're also super bad at monster hunting but think they're great.

Losing Our Minds (Byeler One-Shot) I remember the first morning I woke up and didn’t know where I was. The blood raced through my body like a torrent and I broke out into a violent cold sweat. The room was dark and the musty smell polluted every shaking breath. The sketches hung on the wall of horrific creatures made my blood run cold. I noticed my mouth hanging open as if I were going to say something. A name lingered at my trembling lips like a sweet aftertaste. My brain felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip. It was like my body was petrified with fear and yet my mind was slipping through my shivering fingers. Urgency banged at my ribcage with every shallow breath, begging me to flee, and still the fear couldn’t fill my fading thoughts. My mentality was failing so quickly it never even occurred to me to wonder why. I mindlessly stared at the yellow wall. Or was it blue? Was blue the color of leaves? As I struggled to remember exactly what a leaf was, I finally blacked out. That’s when I saw it.

I woke up in the upside down, grasping at the ash shrouded ground as I gasped for a breath of toxic air. As I wheezed I felt a hot pain dripping down the back of my neck. I slowed brought my hand to my neck, sliding it across the slippery coat of blood until it hit something hard. A parasite with teeth like dull knives had sunk its mouthful of long fangs into my neck and latched onto my spine. My eyes grew wide with terror, stinging dryly in the poison air. I did the only thing I could think to do and sat up only to painful slam myself back to the ground. I felt the teeth of the creature tickling the sides of the holes it had pierced in my flesh as it pulled out of my muscles to let out a deafening screech of pain. Quickly, I pulled at the muscles of my abdomen and they burned from how out of shape I was, then I quickly threw myself down again, the heavy impact throbbing in my brain. The creature detached and I dizzily scrambled to my feet, flurries of dust puffing up from the ground in clouds. I spun around to examine the monster. It looked like a bug-eyed platypus with skin stretched so tight it could have been a fossil. Its ghastly head was much too large for its shriveled body and it was a pale ashy color aside from the ruby red blood that dripped down its horrific teeth and dribbled down its chin as it snarled at me. Suddenly I became aware of the crimson river flowing down my neck, and I only had so much time before I would faint and wake up back home in my room. How could I have forgotten my room? And the name I was going to call out. It was coming back to me.Mike. I spun around and sprinted with all the strength I could muster. I had to get away from this creature before there was nothing left of me but a body.

“We have to kill it,” Mike insisted, no sign of emotion on his motionless face. He turned to me with fire in his eyes, “We have to kill it before it kills you,” Mike elaborated as he crushed my icy fingers in his heated grip. My energy disappeared into weak fear as I imagined facing that deadly creature again, and a shiver ran down my spine at the memory of my life running down my back in lethal drops of scarlet.

Fat drops of salty water welled in my helpless eyes as I whispered to Mike, “You don’t know what it was like.” I blinked and the wet tears tickled my cheeks as they fled down my face. “I-” I shook my head, attempting to begin again, “I don’t think it was going to kill me.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked gently as he moved his face closer to mine. I could smell the fresh minty toothpaste on his morning breath as the humidity of it prickled my face. I fluttered my eyes to clear my vision and he was so close I could see each individual pore in his face. I could have counted his freckles. I took a deep breath as I tried to think how to explain something I didn’t even understand.

“The Thought Eater,” came out of my mouth before I was even aware of it. My eyes widened in realization and my pulse rapidly began banging on my chest like a prisoner. The Thought Eater was a monster in Dungeons and Dragons. It fed on thoughts and its favorite snack was psionic abilities. Here I was, Will the wise with True Sight that allowed me to pass freely between the Upside Down and home, always existing in both but only aware in one. The Thought Eater was feeding on me from the Upside Down, even while I was in my room, sitting on my bed and talking to Mike.

The next thing I knew I was out on Mirkwood all alone. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there or where I was supposed to be going. I felt skittish as my head flew around me, looking for a clue. I felt something on my back and my heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe as I jumped, startled by the sudden and unforeseen seen fear.

“Hey, you okay?” Mike asked, pulling me out of my panic as I turned to see my friend with his supportive hand on my back. His eyebrows pulled close together and his lips gaped just slightly as he looked at my ghastly face.

I shook my head as if to clear it. “Yeah,” I lied as my body began to calm. I walked down the street next to Mike, feeling as though my legs may buckle under me at any moment. “What are you wearing?” I laughed, trying to make light of the situation as I observed the cold of the oversized black leather jacket he wore. The sleeves came down too far, just past the heel of his hands, and it slumped over his shoulders like an old lazy cat.

“It’s leather,” Mike defended. “I thought it might be too thick for the Thought Eater.” He self-consciously pulled the sleeves over his palms.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his overzealous preparation for monster hunting. “You’re an idiot,” I teased, smiling up at the sharp angles of his face.

“Be positive,” Mike commanded, a small smile playing at the corner of his smooth young lips.

“Okay, I’m positive that you’re an idiot,” I replied, my face nearly in pain as my muscles stretched around the huge grin of pride on my face. To my delight, Mike’s eyes lit up like candles at night as he laughed with me.

In a blink, I was standing in the middle of a clearing I didn’t recognize. The grass below my feet was dead. Mike calmly marched around the circumference with a rusty tin of petrol, dumping copious amounts of fuel on the ground. Once he had emptied the entire gallon he carelessly tossed the prism container out into the trees, clapping his hands against each other like erasers as he stumbled over the uneven ground and approached me. I could smell the gasoline on his hands and laced in his clothing and hair as he grabbed my shoulders and asked, “Do you remember the plan?” The gasoline made me feel woozy as I drowsily looked up at Mike’s determined expression.

I wasn’t even sure what I told him as the next moment he was violently holding me from behind and holding an old wet handkerchief over my mouth and nose. A sickly sweet smell polluted my senses and I felt like my body was shutting down and I desperately grabbed at Mike’s strong arms to pull them away. My muscles grew weak and I no longer felt the ability to fight back. I dropped my aching arms and Mike carefully laid my tired body on the ground, continuing to hold the soaked rag to my face. I timidly looked up into Mike’s eyes where his dark brown curls began to droop into his face, terrified and unsure why he was doing this. Worse I had the undeniable feeling like I had forgotten something. Something important.

I opened my eyes, wide awake, and there was that feeling again, like my thoughts were just slipping away. I didn’t stop to think why the sky had grown so dark or what this place was that I had woken up in where ash and decay were the norm. I grew distracted by a grey flake floating past my face. I felt cold and numb. Or was it hot? What was hot again? I began to sneeze. That was the thing where your lungs burn, right? I couldn’t see because the air was too thick to inhale, and I fell to my elbows of my legs becoming a mindless shell of what was once William Byers.

I gasped in the smoky air, sitting up quickly. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead from the heat of the fire surrounding me. I looked out and saw the black silhouette of my messiah against the raging tall flames of glowing orange. I uncontrollably coughed again as the black smoke swirled in my lungs. The dark figure walked toward me and I couldn’t help feeling I had forgotten something important. My face became wet as the features of the boy came into my view. Why was my face wet? Why did my stomach flip as he came nearer? Was he dangerous? The tension in his set jaw and his furious eyes terrified me. I tried to back away, flailing my hands and feet to push my body away, but I was trapped in this ring of fire. He grabbed my shoulder with painful force and flipped open a shiny pocket knife as he rounded my back. I winced as I prepared for him to murder me and was horrified when deafening shriek rang in my ears, vibrating my brain to the point I thought I would explode.

I felt the hot blood racing down my back as the creature released me and scurried into the center of the burning circled with a knife sticking out of its back. My eyes widened as my consciousness came flooding back. I was paralyzed on the ground with fear, knowing that parasite had consumed my mind and nearly erased me. I brought it here. This was the plan. Mike put me under so I could let it hunt me, latch onto me, and when I woke up we would trap it in a ring of fire, and kill it. I pushed myself to my feet with my sore limbs and stood next to Mike to face the creature of nightmares. It limped where the knife stuck through its boney figure as it cautiously backed away from the two of us. It snarled, blood raining off its bill into a pool on the ground as we began moving to opposite sides to corner it. Panicked, the Thought Eater charged at Mike. It leapt into his face and I was powerless to stop as his feet came out from under him and he landed on his back, wincing in pain as he struggled to hold the gnarling monster at bay. I pounded my feet into the trodden ground trying to get to him, sweat from the heat pouring down my face in drops and matting my hair to my sticky forehead. I watched on helplessly as the terror opened its big bill and sank its enormous teeth into Mike’s neck. I pushed on faster, the taste of copper bleeding into the back of my throat. My lungs felt like they were being pricked by a thousand needles and I couldn’t breathe, and still I pushed forward. I got to the scene and realized I didn’t have any weapons; I didn’t know what to do. I hopelessly watched it feeding on Mike’s thoughts. He looked at me like he didn’t know me and I shattered. I angrily grabbed the handle of the knife and ripped it out of the Thought Eater’s back. It didn’t bleed. The creature was completely lifeless inside. I screamed as I jammed the knife into the back of its titanic head and it immediately released Mike to screech out in pain. I pulled up on the knife, carrying the parasite by the blade where it was impaired, and mindlessly held it out into the wall of fire. The Thought Eater’s shrill shrieking as it burned brought tears to my eyes and the scent of its burning flesh was nauseating. The metal handle of the knife began to heat up and it was burning the palm of my hand, and still I refused to stop until I was sure it was dead. The creature finally silenced and I watched the last traces of its shriveled skin drip off the cartoonish skull that hung from the knife. Finally, I screamed and dropped the remnants into the fire, falling to my knee’s and gripping my wrist as I examined my blistering hand.

“Mike?” I called out. The adrenaline had finally melted away with the monster and I was left with the horror of everything I had been through in the last 24 hours. “Mike!” I yelled out desperately. Did it kill him? I moved to look around me to try to see where he was when a tall figure walked around from behind me and knelt down before me. I looked up into his deep brown eyes where the reflection of the fire burned and lost it. I began sobbing as I rammed my head into his hard chest and he wrapped his leather-clad arms around me. I cradled my burnt hand between us as I swung the other around his waist to grip at a fistful of the dark tee shirt he wore under his jacket.

“Shhh,” Mike hushed as he pushed the wet hair out of my face and cradled my head to his chest. “It’s all over now.” I could tell he was just as scared as I was, but Mike would always channel his emotions into his caring actions. Mike’s slender fingers traced down my jaw until they found my damp chin and he tilted my face slightly upward. Carefully he placed a gentle kiss on my sweaty forehead before pulling my entire body closer to his. Our chests collided and I slowed my breathing to meet his. The front of his shirt grew damp in the excruciating heat of the fire and all I could smell was authentic Mike. It intoxicated my thoughts and calmed me more with every inhale.

“Mike?” I asked, finally looking up at him. A bead of sweat was sliding down his cheekbones like it was a waterfall and the curls on his forehead were pasted to his face. The rest of his dark mop was disheveled and tangled. He looked up at me with soft expectation. “We’re not very good at this, are we?”

“What makes you say that?” He questioned.

“Well did you bring anything to put out the fire?” I quizzed. Realization passed over his face when he understood that we had trapped ourselves until the fuel burned out. Wordlessly he pushed off the heavy leather jacket, tossing it to the side. He never took his rich eyes away from mine as he began to pull the drenched black tee shirt over his head, inch by inch revealing the tight pale skin of his flat stomach underneath. Mike sat up on his knees so that he towered over me, scooting himself so close I could feel his hot breath drying the moist sweat on my face. My air hitched in my throat as he placed his hands on my shoulders and began pushing off the blue flannel I wore, his face grew so close that our wet foreheads were stuck together as he pulled the sleeves off my sticky wrists. Our mouths were so close I could feel Mike breathing me to life in every inhale. His hands grabbed the hem of my white tee shirt and I felt the electricity pulse through me as his fingers brushed the bare skin of my hips. He began sliding the fabric up my sides, vitalizing my senses with elation. I lifted my arms into the air so he could pull the damp tee shirt over my head. As Mike tossed the shirt aside, I noticed that the back had been stained crimson with blood and a shiver ran down my spine. Mike laid down on his side, pulling me by the hand to join him. Timidly, I turned myself over on the dead grass next to him. I felt Mike’s hot sticky chest press up against my back as he wrapped a protective arm around my stomach. It was excruciatingly hot and our sweat was pooling at every point of contact, yet I felt calm. My exhaustion from the day was beginning to make my eyes droop with drowsy weight.

I woke up shivering. I was freezing and understood why when I opened my eyes to the black night. The fire was gone and the only light came from the bright moon and the stars littered across the cool night sky. I turned over in Mike’s arms to find that he was still comfortably asleep. His delicate eyes and his soft lips looked so fragile under the deep blue sky. His chest was coated with dried blood from the back of my neck where the Thought Eater had latched on. He looked so beautiful.

#oneshot #byeler #prompt #stranger things oneshot #stranger things #strangerthingsfic #stranger things prompts #mike wheeler #will byers #will byers fanfiction #byeler oneshot

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breakthestrutura · 6 years

Text

so much more than this

so I was reading @heyailin‘s fic (check it out!) and it reminded me of this oneshot I was meaning to write back in the day, before I had this idea, so despite my hurt wrist, I set to write it as part of my prompts challenge. hope you guys enjoy!

this is covering prompt #7. you can send me a character/pair + number and I’ll write something for you, check the list.

also available on ao3 and FF.net

The clock's arms moved awfully slow for a class that prioritized numbers. Bored out of her mind, El would glance at it every eternity, but it always came up only a couple of minutes top ahead of the last time she checked.

Whoever said that school was great was an idiot.

"What's up with you?" Dustin hushed at her. He was the best of math out of all of them, so it was nice of him to sit by her side (since she still had a bit of a hard time sometimes), but mostly, El just wanted to be out of there.

"Nothing," she said keeping her eyes ahead. "I'm just exhausted."

"How can you be exhausted? It's Monday!"

It wasn't Monday, but he liked to be dramatic. Slowly, El turned her head to look at him.

"So?"

He didn't have an answer for her, as expected, so she nodded solemnly and glanced at the clock again. Only one minute had passed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" El exclaimed frustrated and perhaps a bit too loud.

"Hopper!" the teacher repressed. "Language!"

She raised a hand not half as apologetically as she should be, and then rolled her eyes wondering what kind of fucked up curse she was in for school not to be over already. She had things to do! Things that were way more interesting than sitting through this class making letters turn into numbers, who the fuck cares about that shit? Things like… having Eggos with Hop for his work break and… softball practice, and…

Okay, fine, none of those things mattered either. What El really wanted, really looked forward to, was Mike. And she couldn't wait, she just couldn't wait to find him as soon as the bell rang, because he was the only one who held her interest for long enough, the only one she'd like to talk to and hold, and, fine, kiss many, many times.

There was no Mike in math class! They shared English, German and social studies, and they had the same PE period, though separately, as well as the same lunch period, which apparently was a miracle, but none of those things were enough.

El was so deep into her mopping that she almost didn't process the bell ringing. Almost because she was so conditioned to bolt out of the room as soon as class was over that her body reacted to the ringing faster than her mind. Almost with a robotic precision, El shoved her things inside her backpack and was out of there before Dustin or anyone could direct a word at her.

"El, where are you going?" Dustin called, getting a few confused glances from his classmates. Everyone thought her name was Jane, and it was too soon into 9th grade to explain how her nickname had nothing to do with her name.

El knew exactly where Mike was, so instead of turning right – to where her next class would be – she turned left, walking as fast as one could without actually running (apparently, it was a Big Deal to run in the school's corridors and she could get into Deep Shit if she kept doing that, another thing that made zero sense in this world). With her backpack hung on one shoulder, she passed by jocks and cheerleaders to find him in front of his locker stashing some books in.

"Mike!" she called catching his attention.

He looked at her and smiled warmly, making her heart skip a beat, and as soon as El was close enough, she dropped the backpack and threw her arms around his neck, locking lips with him passionately.

Barely able to react, Mike arms went around her waist and El stood on the tip of her toes, one hand in his hair as they stumbled against the lockers loudly, without a care in the world. Mike's hands went up her back to steady her and they parted for just a second to catch their breaths, eyes still closed as they collapsed again now full on French kissing, tongues tangling and small bites.

The first bell rang announcing five minutes to next class, and on the back of her mind El thought about how time decided to pass quickly now, though the thought wasn't strong enough to make them stop. They did slow down a little, but still seemed far from resume their make out session.

"Uh, excuse me? My locker," someone said behind Mike, but El just waved the person off, getting a confused "What the fuck?" in response.

"Sorry about that," someone else, Will to be exact, said. "They're annoying, I know."

El smiled in the kiss, not even tired of kissing Mike yet. Hell, she'd been waiting for it since second period, when they had to go to separate classes. She just wanted to be with him all the time, and she had no idea if that need would ever ease. To be fair, she didn't even want for it to ease, because nothing could compare to Mike. Hop kept saying that it'd pass, that they were too young to feel so strongly about each other, but Karen knew better when she took a look at them and just… nodded solemnly, as if it was settled – which, to be honest, was.

"…the third time this week, and it's Wednesday!" the locker person kept complaining. "Dick, come on, do something."

Oh, crap.

There was a loud bang against the lockers right by El's head and slower than they probably should, she and Mike separated, their lips and the tip of their noses showcasing the same shade of red, and they looked at Dick, the inspector, apologetically.

Behind him, they spotted Will shaking his head tiredly, as well as Lucas and Max looking at them with that bored expression of theirs, as if they were tired of their shit, which was probably the case.

"You know what I'm going to say, right?" Dick said very seriously pointing a finger at them.

"Get a room?" El suggested. Mike chuckled.

"That would be Lucas," he said to her and she nodded. True. Dick frowned at them.

"No," he replied annoyed. "What I'm going to say is scram! You're on the way."

El opened her mouth to answer, but Mike was faster, pulling her by the waist from the lockers before she could run her mouth like she always did.

"Sure, yes, of course, sorry," he blurted out in one breath and she looked at him wondering what the hell.

Mike just smiled and nodded in a series of cordialities she was still unaware of, even with the crazy amount of soap operas she watched, until the inspector turned around and left. Their friends stepped closer, mostly because one of the lockers they'd been obstructing was Max's.

"You guys are a pain in the ass, you know that, right?" Max complained doing her best to change books as fast as she could before the bell rang again indicating the beginning of 4th period.

El just shrugged and looked up at Mike, who smirked, his arm now around her shoulders. She held his shirt pulling him closer and he leaned down for another kiss. Everyone around them moaned.

"Oh, my God!" some exclaimed.

They didn't care. Never did, never would.

#Stranger Things #mileven #milevennet #jane hopper #mike wheeler #strangerthingsfic #20prompts40days

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dreamer757 · 7 years

Text

The Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganza

Mike Wheeler still couldn’t believe it. Any moment now he expected to be jolted awake inside Eleven’s tent in his basement, disappointed once again that she was no longer around. But yet here he was, walking cautiously through the woods at dinnertime to see her. Eleven. Finally.

It had been a week since El closed the gate, saved Hawkins and came back to him. To her home. He still remembers every vivid detail from that night, the fear of almost certain death as the faces of those demodogs as Dustin constantly calls them, to the all-consuming feeling of elation when Eleven walked through the Byers’ door and saved them.

The happiness in her face when they made eye contact, the way she reached for and clung to him, and the broken cry in her voice when she choked out his name will stay with him forever. From that moment, it had been a complete whirlwind of emotions from learning Hopper was hiding her to the gut wrenching realization that he might lose her to the gate once again just minutes later. But she promised. They promised. And friends don’t lie.

Mike was pulled quickly from his thoughts when he spied the familiar old cabin coming into view. He slowed his walk, letting out a deep breath, realizing that Eleven was just a few feet away. All he had to do was go up to the door and face Hopper. The man who hid Eleven from him. A shiver ran down Mike’s spine as he recalled the screaming and pummeling he had given to Hopper after that discovery, only for the man to hold him while he cried about it. They hadn’t seen each other since, not even the night of the Snow Ball, although Mike was so grateful Hopper let Eleven go. That was such a magical night, she had looked so beautiful. It almost made up for what Hopper did.

Gathering his courage, Mike walked confidently up the path, careful of the trip wire near the front door. Keeping up the safety precautions for the next year would be annoying, but Mike would do anything to keep Eleven safe. He was just happy he finally got to see her again. Not seeing her face or even hearing for voice for 353 days had been agony.

Mike stopped in front of the door and punched his fist on the door three times. There was a small movement behind the door, a flicker of someone moving in front of a light, followed by the squeaky sounds of locks being undone, before the door swung open to reveal Hopper.

The intimidating Hawkins Police Chief stood there with his eyes trained on Mike, two hands on his gun, before realizing there was no threat. Mike stood there, not moving, his eyes on the gun, before allowing a small smile and a quick head nod towards the man holding it, their eyes meeting.

“Hopper,” Mike spoke assertively, not looking away, until the man frowned at him slightly. “Sir,” he added quickly.

Upon hearing Mike speak, Hopper lowered the gun and simply said,” Hey kid,” with a quick head nod of his own. “You were supposed to use the secret knock. Forget next time and you can’t come in,” Hopper added before moving aside to let Mike in as he nodded furiously.

Mike entered the cabin and glanced around before his eyes landed on El, standing there next to a red table, in a makeshift kitchen. Her brown hair was curled slightly, not as much as at the dance. She was wearing a simple T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers just like him, but as always, she looked beautiful.

Eleven gave him that small smile from the Snow Ball that he adored. He honestly forgot to breathe when she looked at him like that. His cheeks already beginning to hurt from the smile forming on his features in return. They both stood there staring for seconds, minutes, hours, Mike last track. At least until he was broken from that trance by Eleven glancing behind him, cocking her head slightly, eyes fixed like she was about to use her powers again.

Mike turned slightly as Hooper curtly said,” Right. I need a smoke. Outside.” He paused as Mike made eye contact again, Hopper looking quickly between Mike and Eleven. “Ten minutes tops. I mean it,” he demanded, before exiting the small cabin, the door banging loudly.

Mike turned back towards Eleven, who was now beaming at him just a few feet away. “I have a surprise,” she revealed, a happy twinkle in her brown eyes before she turned to look at the table, or the large upside-down bowl on it. “Yeah?” Mike replied, quickly walked towards her, surprise on his face at her words, his eyes taking in the large, white bowl for this time. Eleven sat down in the chair and Mike mirrored her movements as she patiently waited for him. Again, they just stared for a few seconds, a calm contentment falling over them for simply being in the same space together again.

“Ready?” Eleven spoke softly, a childlike excitement in her tone that suited her perfectly. “Let’s see it!” Mike answered almost immediately, his hands gesturing to the bowl in front of them in the hopes he would stop wringing them together and reveal his nervousness. Mike slowly watched as Eleven looked down at the bowl, concentrated, and lifted the bowl with her powers and placed it right side up next to the plate it was covering.

“Surprise.” Eleven said with a full smile, happy at the look of complete surprise and awe on Mike’s face as he stared. Mike had truly no idea what kind of a surprise to expect from El, but of course, it had to be this. “Eggos!” Mike exclaimed as he stared in shock at El favorite food stacked in a sort of tower in front of them. He laughed quietly to himself, glancing up at her bright eyes as they shared the joke of El’s love for Eggos.

El leaned forward slightly in the chair, keeping eye contact, her smile wide and happy. “Triple decker Eggo extravaganza,” she revealed, as they both glanced down at the culinary surprise together. Mike's mouth formed a smirk as he took in the dish. Four Eggo waffles were apparent, separated by fluffy white whipped cream at every layer. A variety of jelly beans, chocolate chips, and various leftover Halloween candies were added haphazardly, given it a dash of color.

Mike was impressed. It looked delicious. He leaned in to examine the dish closer, taking in the effort it had been to made and assemble it. “I made it,” El said, a proud but quiet tone in her voice as she also looked over the extravaganza.

“Did Hopper teach you?” Mike asked with a quirk of his brow. El nodded quickly, looking up into Mike’s eyes again. Mike nodded. “He’s Papa now,” El continued quietly, watching Mike’s eyebrows raise at her words, staring at her in disbelief.

El slowly reached across the table and took Mike hand in hers, their eyes never leaving each others. “Home,” she said, confirming the unasked question in the room. Mike grasped her hand more firmly in his, nodding once, a lump forming in his throat. “Home,” he repeated. They stayed like that for a moment, before he watched El’s other hand reach for a fork. Mike reacted quickly to grab the other fork on the table, before staring at the Eggos in front of them with a focused gaze.

“So, how do we eat this?” Mike asked seriously. “Do you want to figure it out?” El quipped slowly, a smile creeping onto her face, the familiar saying settling between them like a familiar joke. Mike smile again at her mirroring his words from the dance, leaned in towards her again and said softly, “Together.”

Mike and El both dug into the Eggo extravaganza, giggling when it fell apart, agreeing that it was delicious, and deciding the eggos were still the best part, together. For the next ten minutes, their hand never separated and they consumed every speck of the Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganza. In that moment, with bright smiles on both their faces, Mike knew it would be the first Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganza of many.

#mileven #milevenfanfic #strangerthings2 #mikewheeler #janehopper #strangerthings #eleven #spoilers #strangerthingsfic

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