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#MIKE WHEELER WITH BRACES
imactuallyreallycool · 9 months
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Platonic Best Friends✨✨✨
They’re 80s nerds at least one of them is going to have braces lol
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sophiearts97 · 2 years
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In every scene,
It's me and Michael
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her-midas-touch · 4 months
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Our analyses for fanon mike always hit so different I swear.
Like, reading analyses on will’s pov is so interesting and we kind of have a clearer idea of what’s kinda going on his head, from that special link established with mike in s1 with the “it was a 7” moment, all the tender moments in s2 (I keep realizing how many indications we got of mike’s feelings in s2 it’s unreal), to him struggling with how much he truly lost out on due to his disappearance and possession and struggling with that hurt and getting left behind in s3 (byler angst ahhhh) and in s4, all that tentative hope he built up just sort of being repressed just to act on his love for mike by pushing him towards el when their relationship in s4 was already on somewhat shaky ground.
But fanon mike? Oh, the reasonings and dissecting his actions is on a whole different level.
From his distress in s1, the queer-coding, even ted’s subtle homophobic comments (You see what happens michael?), to lucas’s whole accusation about him liking el because she’s the first girl who liked him and didn’t find him gross which struck a nerve with him, the jump scene, to the survivors guilt and ptsd in s2, where he was repressing so much emotionally (though he was more open with will about that in the crazy together scene) and that scene with hopper where it’s clear all that fear and anger and guilt is just unleashing itself at once, to s3 where he’s projecting and struggling a lot more especially towards the end (I think about hopper’s letter and it flashing back to mike in the end when he looks back at the byers house and it says something about being afraid of things changing).
Especially mike’s reaction after admitting he loves el to everyone. He’s just so taken aback. Like, a heat of the moment thing, and the thing is, it isn’t even a complete lie because a part of him does love el (or care, shall we say) but it feels like the consequences of his admission are just sinking in when el says it back and kisses him and mike looks…..shocked and frozen and just kind of terrified (No smile afterwards, didn’t close his eyes, nothing to indicate anything???).
And then there’s things like lettergate which just make it sadder if you consider s4, and mike actually struggling more evidently with those feelings. There’s the airport hug, all kind of influenced by this newfound awkwardness between them and mike’s possible jealousy with the painting especially cause he’s clearly noticing will the whole time and even admits it (though he frames it as will sabotaging el’s day by being a douche……projecting so hard). But yet he still owns up for his mistakes and they get to have these moments and then there’s the monologue where mike is literally bracing himself for the “I love you”—
Oh. The Mike Wheeler angst that we’ve picked up from all the subtext and clues is just—it’s so interesting.
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pretty-emo-dad · 1 year
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Mike w braces….el with braces….. Lucas with braces
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cringengl · 11 months
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On my Mike Wheeler gets braces agenda.
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bylermyheart · 2 years
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I just know the van scene in the script is going to hit us like an actual van
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hopelessromanfic · 1 year
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if y’all think byler is one-sided, how in the world do you look at your best friend?
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got braces off today: older sisters reaction
Sis: So, now you can kiss boys w/ out worrying abt getting your braces caught on something!
Me: wtf???
Sis: or girls, I guess
Me: ummm. Okay then?
Sis, quietly: or Mike wheeler
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inutaffy · 2 years
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st au where everything is the same except mike has braces
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sknnymnne · 1 year
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How is Mike Wheeler not the fucking hunchback of Notre Dame at this point
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imactuallyreallycool · 7 months
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I got a good one:
It's night at Halloween and Mike takes Will trick or treating, and they both go out as a wizard+knight together!💞
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(As always there could be spelling/grammatical errors lol)
I don’t know how to write flirting lollllll
I also head-canon that Joyce taught Will how to sew so he can make his own/the party’s dnd costumes :))) (ALSO ITS THE FIRST TIME SEEING EACHOTHER IN THEIR NEW COSTUMES LOLLLL)
I HAD WAY TOO MUCH FUN ON THE BACKGROUNDS LOLLLLLL
Here’s a few close ups lol
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shares-a-vest · 1 year
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At first, Eddie and Steve keep their relationship a secret. It isn't because they are embarrassed, nor do they even think their friends will be disapproving. It's simply because they happen to be friends with the most annoying, overbearing busy-bodies on planet earth.
It was bound to happen, all of them being so involved in each others' lives to the point that it's probably a serious co-dependent situation that someone (or Nancy) should study with science or some shit. But being bonded by unimaginable terrors from another dimension will do that.
Anyway, the pack of gremlins are always around, always demanding attention, always in the way of Eddie and Steve. So Eddie takes it upon himself to tease the dumbass twerps who remain oblivious to his relationship with their favourite babysitter.
Case in point: Dustin, Will and Lucas have been driven around all damn afternoon by Steve, mostly wasting time and wingeing about him not providing them with enough fun despite the fact they were now living in the near ghost town. All the while Eddie rides shotgun, watching his boyfriend become increasingly annoyed as the likelihood of a date night dwindles with each passing second.
“Our problems would be solved if Steve would just drive us into the city,” Dustin whines, staring at the back of the driver’s seat like he wants to burn a hole in it El-style.
“Absolutely not!” Steve argues as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway.
“Eddie?” Dustin asks, voice sickly sweet as he leans in between the front seats. “Can you drive us?”
“Gee, Henderson, love that I’m your last resort,” Eddie scoffs as he continues picking at his nails.
He slumps back in his seat, bracing himself for the same argument Dustin has had with Steve for the past week. That is unless he speeds this up a little and gently teases Steve while he's at it...
“Anyway,” he continues, drawing out his words as he dares a glance at Steve who merely rolls his eyes. “I’m busy.”
“Busy with what?” Lucas asks, more accusatory than curious.
“Nothing,” he responds, waiting on bated breath for more queries.
Steve slowly turns his head and he can’t help but give a teasing wink that leaves his boyfriend white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“It’s a Saturday. There’s no Hellfire because you are keeping us waiting on whatever torture you are concocting," Dustin insists, jostling Steve’s seat with every word and earning a series of grumbles from their chauffeur. “And you don’t have work.”
Eddie shrugs. “I have a date.”
At that, Dustin launches forward, an inch from Eddie’s face.
“You don’t date!” he shrieks.
“Do so,” Eddie says, shifting in his seat to square off with his young friend. “I have a life outside entertaining you dorks. Also, Henderson, that is the meanest thing you have ever said to me.”
He mimics sniffling and uses his index finger to simulate a tear running down his cheek as he pouts.
“So, who’s your girlfriend?” Dustin demands, his eyebrows disappearing up under his cap.
“Yes, do tell,” Steve adds, narrowing his eyes at him as he turns off the ignition, challenging.
Will remains silent in the back seat, despite Lucas opening the rear passenger door at the sight of Mike standing at his front stoop, waiting.
“Oh, you know…” Eddie begins, gesturing with his hand as he searches for some generic details. “Nice… hates her parents, which gives me ample opportunity to do my ‘bad boy boyfriend’-schitck… Very pretty… Great hair! Like, the best... Has a great rack.”
He nods at that last one before twirling a lock of his hair and crossing it over his face.
“You shouldn’t talk about girls like that,” Dustin shoots back, ever the goody-goody. 
His words almost conceal a huffed laugh from Steve that only Eddie seems to catch. Truthfully, he can’t help but giggle too, mostly because despite being the brainiac of the century, Henderson of all people, had remained completely oblivious for months now. Also Steve's cheek has turned pink and that's worth him being smug about.
“Says the person who takes dating advice from King Steve,” Eddie counters.
He reaches over to run a finger up Steve's arm and lingers just enough. It makes Steve, already biting his lip from the nickname, squirm in his seat.
“And I have a girlfriend because of it!” Dustin retorts, adjusting his cap with a proud flourish and patting Steve on the shoulder.
It makes him jump, likely remembering that three of his kids are in the back of the car cramping his style.
“Alrighty,” he splutters, giving one of those rousing dad-slash-gym teacher claps that Eddie finds oddly authoritative in a hot way. “Out of the car, assholes.”
Dustin looks at Steve, incredulous as if it’s some great offence to be dejected from the car when they have reached their destination. Steve just raises his eyebrows in defiance at their young friend. He really does look cute when he's grumpy.
The boys huff and exit, taking the loss this time around. Steve watches as they walk towards the Wheeler’s front door and gesticulate wildly as they talk. Mike looks at the car with his signature stink-eye and takes a step forward. Steve promptly fires up the engine.
He intentionally revs the car, giggling as the kids jump at the sound.
“So, where are you taking me on a date?” he asks, rolling the car along and veering away from Mike before he can ask a damn thing.
“I thought we could watch movies at my place,” Eddie shrugs, offering his go-to plan.
“That isn’t a date!” Steve shrieks.
Eddie can’t help but grumble at the foiled idea. He gives Mike the finger as Steve peels out of the driveway, ranting about all the activities he steadfastly considers not a date.
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artaxlivs · 8 months
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Let Me Be Your Man (I want to hold your hand)
CW: none * Rating: Mature (frottage) * Pairing: Steve/Eddie * Prompt: Mixtape
“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!” Steve yells when the pounding on his door gains momentum to add to its volume. Grumbling, he peeks out the side window and sees one of the kid’s bikes thrown down in his lawn. Little assholes. 
When he yanks the door open, Mike Wheeler is just raising his fist to pound it against the door again. “I need your help.” His face is red and sweaty with exertion as he shoves past Steve into the house. 
Immediately, Steve reaches into the umbrella stand and pulls out the only thing in it - his nail bat. “What’s happening?” He asks, rounding toward Mike, “Why didn’t you radio or call? What is it? Vecna? Jocks? Where’s everyone else?”
Mike skids to a halt and stares at Steve incredulously. “What? No. Put your bat away, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes. “I need your help.”
Relaxing just a small amount, Steve lets the top of the bat rest on the entryway floor. He probably looks as confused as he feels. “What? Why are you saying it like that? What kind of help?”
Mike huffs, throws his hands up and spins on his heel, stalking into the kitchen. Before Steve follows, he counts to ten, puts his bat away and curses the day he started dating Nancy Wheeler. Always the goddamn babysitter.
At the breakfast counter, Mike is deflating, shoulders drooping in what looks like defeat, chin braced in one hand, elbow pressed against the cool tile. With the other hand he’s tracing the lines of grout between the tiles.
On a whim, Steve detours to the fridge, loading up his arms with the makings for sandwiches. Back at the counter, he pulls out four slices of Wonderbread. “So - what brings you to my door?” He shakes the mayo and Mike nods so he starts to slather it on two of the pieces. Mike nods again to the mustard so Steve slathers that on the other two. Giving Mike the time to gather his thoughts.
“Um, well…I, uh, I like someone.” Mike sighs, looking down at the tile where he’s still tracing the lines. 
Someone not a girl. Someone. Will. It’s gotta be Will. Steve has seen the way that they both look at each other when the other isn’t looking. He and Robin have talked about it, about which one to approach first to let them into their elite Hawkins Gay Club which currently has two members. Not one and a half, Robin. Being bisexual still means he’s a whole gay. Dang it.
“Cheese?” Steve asks, peeling his own out of the Kraft plastic wrap. When Mike nods, Steve pulls out a second one for him. “Turkey or ham?” He pops open both and proceeds to put both on his own sandwich.
“Both, please.” Mike says and then jumps down, well, steps down because his gangly legs are much longer now. He goes over and grabs the salt and pepper from the back of the stove lip and sprinkles some of each on his, raises an eyebrow and when Steve nods, he sprinkles them on Steve’s as well.
Fancy.
“You want lettuce and tomato?” Steve says, slicing his own. Mike does not, he does go into the pantry and grab a bag of chips though because the kids are way too comfortable in Steve’s house apparently. 
“I need your help making a mixtape.” Mike says as sits back down.
Steve frowns. “Why are you here for a mixtape and not at Eddie’s? He’s the music guy.” And really - that’s a no brainer.
Groaning, Mike flops his head down his folded arms on the counter, narrowly missing the bag of chips. “Eddie cannot be trusted to make mixtapes. I was there for four hours, Steve. FOUR HOURS. And all I got was a lesson on ‘real metal versus sell out metal.’” He groans again. “He was so excited to help me but then we just recorded an hour of Black Sabbath songs. W- this person doesn’t even like metal!”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Steve gives Mike an encouraging smile as he cuts their sandwiches in half diagonally. Who cuts sandwiches across the middle? Vecna probably. Monster. “Mixtapes aren’t just about your favorite songs or even their favorite songs. It’s songs that you want to share with them and songs that remind you of them. And, of course, songs that tell them how you feel about them.” He plates both sandwiches and slides Mike’s across the bar. “It helps to know who the person is because mixtapes should be personalized but as long as you know their music, I can probably help you.”
Chewing the first bite slowly, Mike nods like he’s agreeing or gearing up to talk. Steve grabs them each a soda out of the fridge, sliding Mike’s over and taking the bag of chips. “My sister really loved the one you made for her. Well,” He reaches into the chip bag and pulls out a handful before pushing the bag toward Steve, “she still does actually. She plays it sometimes.”
Steve stops with his hand half inside the bag, “She does?”
“Yeaaaah.” Mike drags it out, putting a chip in his mouth but then talking around it. “She said it was the tape that made her realize she needed to break up with you.” Steve makes a little grunt of outrage but Mike pushes through, waving his hand to stop Steve from interrupting. “No, no, she loves that tape. Seriously. She said that listening to it made her realize that you’re the kind of guy who loves forever. But that you loved this girl she made up, she was pretending to be, even though she knew she’d never be that girl again…not after…you know.” He shrugs his bony shoulders and looks down at the counter again.
Without thinking about it, Steve’s eyes flick up to look out of the kitchen window where he can see the corner of the pool. He nods, saying dejectedly, “Yeah, I get that.” 
“And sometimes, when Jonathan is being Jonathan, she listens to it to remind her that you saw her as strong and brave - that’s what she said, strong and brave - before she even saw herself that way.” Mike opens his sandwich and puts down a layer of chips on top of the meat, squishing the top slice of bread back down before taking a bite. These kids are such weirdos. With his mouth full, he continues, “She said it reminds her that she doesn’t need Jonathon. Or any man. That she won’t settle for a life she doesn’t want. Not even for a guy like you.”
“Huh.” Steve replies, taking another bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “A guy like me?” 
Rolling his eyes, Mike makes a sound like he’s tasted something bad and says, “Yeah, don’t get a big head. You still suck.”
Steve snorts. The audacity of this kid is truly admirable. He’s still not sure that makes him feel better but Nancy deserves to get what she wants so he can be happy for her. Even if his tape is part of what drove her away. He shakes it off, though, “Okay, so what type of music does this person like?”
They spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening going through the tapes and albums Steve has and making a list of the ones that Mike has that he thinks might work. Then they pair them down to make an album that flows, “like a story” Steve tells him. The playlist has a song by Bowie because really every playlist should. One from The Smiths because Steve knows Will loves them even though he doesn’t mention that part to Mike. Mike picks the one metal song that Eddie suggested that he thought made sense, they all sound alike to Steve so he doesn’t pay attention to which one it is. The others are sprinkles of songs both boys have shared memories about.
“It’s really the last song that matters,” he tells Mike. “You’ve laid the groundwork for blending your stories together and that last song is the one you have to be brave with. The words matter. That’s the song where you say what you wanna say. Even if it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done.”
Mike nods slowly, like he’s really focusing on the meaning behind Steve’s words.
The last song, after the Mike and Will songs, after it’s clear that this is a story of the two of them together , is “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” by the Beatles. It’s the only song like it on the whole tape so it stands out clearly. It’s a love song without being slow and romantic. It’s honest. And it says, “let me be your man.” So there are no wrong pronouns. Again, Steve doesn’t mention it. 
After running by the Wheeler’s to pick up a few of Mike’s tapes, they pull by the trailer park and Mike runs in to borrow the one that Eddie suggested. At the trailer door, Eddie looks over at Steve waiting in his car and gives him a head nod. Smiling fondly, Steve wonders if those two know how dorky they look in their matching Hellfire shirts and cut off jeans, if Eddie is aware that Mike is trying very hard to be as cool as he thinks Eddie is. Probably not. Eddie is pretty oblivious. 
Case in point, Steve’s been hitting on him for weeks with not a single sign that Eddie is aware of it at all.
Maybe Steve should make him a mixtape. He gives a little finger wave that Eddie returns, looking thoughtful as Mike lopes back to the car with his goofily long arms and legs flailing and throws himself into the passenger seat. Steve backs out and drives away, watching Eddie get smaller and smaller in the rearview.
Steve picks them up burgers on the way back to his house and then they lay on his floor next to his big fancy stereo, recording the songs in order, from tape to tape. When they get to the Beatles song, Steve makes an excuse about cleaning up the kitchen and leaves Mike with the tape insert and a pen. 
When he comes back, Mike’s folding a piece of notebook paper and tucking it inside the case as well. He must have had a lot to say. His eyes are a little red rimmed but Steve pretends not to notice of course.
In the Wheeler driveway, after he helps Mike dislodge his bike from where they half tucked it into the Bimmer trunk and just let the lid sit on it because it doesn’t actually fit all the way, Steve leans against the car with his arms and ankles crossed, trying to look as relaxed as he can. He wants to say something, let Mike know he’s a safe person to talk to. That they’re alike. He’s not sure how to without scaring him, though.
“Uh…thanks for this, man.” Mike snorts a laugh and gives that snotty side smile of his, “Maybe Dustin’s right about you.”
Steve grins, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, “You don’t totally suck.” But then he grins back all cocksure like the almost sixteen year old that he is.
Scoffing, Steve kicks out and hits one of Mike’s bike tires with his shoe, “Thanks, asshole.” Pushing off the car, he starts to turn away but then, “Hey, if it’s who I think it is, you can talk to me - I…I get it. Understand?” He makes sure he catches Mike’s eye so the kid can’t look down and away like he usually does. Steve sees the flash of fear but it’s quickly replaced with hope, maybe even trust.
Mike just nods and Steve gets out of there before he embarrasses the poor kid again. On his drive home, he rolls the windows down, turns his car radio up too loud and sings along, uncaring that he’s probably out of tune. 
Steve’s been home for maybe an hour when someone knocks on his door again. There’s less noise this time but it’s still just solid pounding without giving him the chance to get to the door. Everyone he knows is an asshole apparently.
“Alright, alright, keep it in your–” He yanks open the door and finds Eddie standing there still wearing his ripped cutoffs and his Hellfire shirt. Well, the version two that he designed for the club when he handed it down after graduation. “-pants.”
Eddie smiles, sly and flirty, “You sure?”
Steve rolls his eyes, “What are you gonna do when I call your bluff someday?” Because although Steve has been honestly flirting with Eddie, Eddie’s just been over the top hitting on Steve with innuendos and double entendres that don’t mean anything serious. Well, Steve can’t tell if they mean anything serious at least.
Which is part of why Steve hasn’t at least tried to make a move.
“We’ll see when that day comes I guess.” Eddie leans in and taps on Steve’s chest with the tip of his pointer finger. “I made you something Big Boy.”
There’s a circle of burning fire in the spot where Eddie’s finger was. His touches always seem to leave flames in their wake. Steve wonders if Eddie feels them, too “Is it dinner? Because I already ate with Baby Wheeler.”
“Nope.” Eddie drags out the “p” making a popping sound. “Baby Wheeler mentioned you were helping him with his mixtape - said you were some kind of expert.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Steve nods, admitting, “I don’t know about expert. Sorry, though, didn’t mean to step on your toes.”
“No, no, it’s cool.” Eddie leans his shoulder against the door jamb which is weird because he’s usually pushed past Steve to make himself at home by this point. Or Steve has invited him in. But they’re just standing here in the open doorway. “Besides - Wheeler informed me that I suck at mixtapes. Something about telling a story and not shoving metal down people’s throats.”
Steve crosses his arms defensively, “Don’t take it personally. You’re great at dragon stories. Gotta leave something for the rest of us to be good at.” He’s looking down so he misses the expression that accompanies the scoff Eddie gives but it sounds exasperated.
“Well.” Eddie says, bringing Steve’s eyes back up to him as he pulls a cassette tape out of his vest pocket. “Anyway, here.”
It shouldn’t make him feel the way it does. But it does. Steve’s heart flutters and his stomach swoops and the finger that brushes Eddie’s as he takes the tape feels like it’s charged with lightning. He’s still not sure, though, it could be that kind or it could just be Eddie trying to prove that metal is the best.
Before he can stop himself, he asks, “You made me a mixtape?” And the hopefulness in his voice is as clear as day. But then it’s met with a look in Eddie’s eyes - fear, denial, like he wants to take it back, so Steve pivots, teasing, “Is it an hour of metal? Did you do a voice over?”
Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his vest pockets, Eddie hisses, “No. Jerk.”
After a moment of indecision, Steve asks hesitantly, “Do you..do you wanna listen to it together?”
There’s fear in Eddie’s eyes again and he takes a wary step back, “Uh - no. No, that wouldn’t be a great idea.” He swings his arms, snapping and bringing the flat of one hand against the curled first of the other before pointing finger guns at Steve. It’s so horribly awkward that Steve is filled with hope again. “Uh, yeah, it’s, um, it’s just for you, man.” He’s clearly nervous and waves of anxious energy are almost rolling off of him as he spins and walks away, throwing a confident, “See ya Harrington!” over his shoulder but Steve’s not fooled at all. 
“Oh you will, Munson.” Steve calls after him, slow smile growing when Eddie’s shoulder’s visibly hunch before he leaps into his van and pulls away, tires practically squealing with the force of him gunning it. 
Huh. Interesting.
Closing the door, Steve goes over to the phone on the entryway table where he leaves his keys and Family Video vest every night. He dials and after two rings, Robin picks up, “Thank you for calling Family-oh damn it, I mean, hello?”
“You’re such a mess.” Steve snorts.
“Fuck you Harrington, you’re such a mess!” She whisper shouts, because if her dad hears her cussing, she'll be grounded until she leaves for college.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t.” Steve assures her. “But listen - Mike came over earlier–”
“Mike?!” She actually shouts this time. “Is there a Code Red? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?” There’s the distinct sound of her rolling off of her bed and scrambling for shoes or clothes.
“Calm down, you ninny.” He sighs. “We are scarily alike.”
“Duh.” Then she makes an oof sound as she flops back onto her bed.
“I thought the same thing because when does Mike ever willingly talk to me?” 
“Like, never. Unless it’s to make fun of you – ohhh wait, did he come to talk about Will?” She squees. “Did the baby gay come to get advice from his babysitter?”
Steve laughs, switching the phone to his other ear and sitting down on the carpeted stairs. He should have made this call from his bedroom where he could have laid on his bed, too late now. “Sort of? He asked for my help making a mixtape for ‘someone’ but didn’t tell me who and I didn’t out him by asking but when I dropped him off at home, I hinted that I knew and he could talk to me.”
“Ohhhh Steve, that’s so adorable. If I remotely liked any of your children, I’d be touched.” She straight out lies because they all know she adores Max like a little partner in crime. “Why you though? Why not Eddie?”
“That’s what I said!” He laughs and then dives into telling her the whole story. Eddie’s metal sell out lesson, the hours of pouring over music, Nancy’s love of his mixtape that he made for her back in high school. She comments and laughs at all the right places because they are of one mind, as always. Then though, then, he drops the bomb.
“So, the reason I’m calling is because Eddie showed up at my door. With a mixtape. For me. And he declined my offer to listen to it together.” Steve twists the cord around his finger, waiting until the skin turns red before unwinding it.
“Oh my god! What’s on it?” She shouts, “And why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I don’t know what’s on it. I haven’t listened to it yet.”
“Why not, you dingus?!” Robin screeches then she adds in a subdued tone, “Do you think…?” 
In an equally subdued tone he replies, “I don’t know. I think that’s why I called you first. I’m a little scared to get my hopes up.”
She makes a little noise of agreement. She’s been there.
“And I just…I’m not his type at all. And I know that. But he’s so…” Steve sighs and lays back on the stairs awkwardly, it’s not comfortable at all but it’s keeping him focused. “He’s loud and brash and annoying and I like that because I’m not. But he’s also sweet and squishy and brave and so fucking funny. Argh.”
“And you already got your hopes up when he dropped it off and you don’t want to be disappointed?” Robin asks gently because she really does know him so well.
“Yeah,” he tells her in a hushed voice. “His face when he handed it over, Rob. He was nervous. And then he practically ran away.”
“Well, idiot, you won’t know until you listen.” She says matter-of-factly and he can almost hear her brushing off her hands and standing up. “Buck up. You want me to come over and listen to it with you?”
“Nah. I want to hear it the first time on my own.” That way he can cry before he has to face her if that’s where this is going. “I’ll call you if I need you, though, k?”
“You know I’m always here for you.”
He does.
After they hang up, Steve doesn’t waste anymore time. He doesn’t want to give himself any time to think so he heads into the living room and pops it into the tape deck he and Mike had just recorded ‘someone’s’ tape on. Laying back on the floor he lets the first song play. 
He doesn’t recognize the first chords but the recording itself is kinda fuzzy, like it’s a live version of something. It’s an acoustic guitar, slow but building. When the voice comes in, Steve sits up and turns toward the speaker. It’s Eddie.
I was always trapped. Drowning in this small town, Dragged down by small minds To the bottom of the lake. Spent most of my days  on the run from myself. Running from the me I wasn’t ready to be. Trapped in this small town  with these small minds. That is, until you. Until there was you. You stood your ground. Stood up for mine, too. And I never ran as fast  as I did to you.
There’s a guitar break. It’s beautiful, simple, a slow melody that builds with Eddie’s voice almost trembling when it comes back in.
You’re the boy The boy who stops the world. Stops it from spinning Out of my reach. I want to run to you. But we’re stuck in this town With these small minds, That drag us down. I just wanna be free Free to love you. I only wanna run If you’ll catch me.  In this small town In this small town
The song fades out and there’s the sound of Eddie’s breathing, it catches like he’s going to say something but then exhales and the recording clicks off. Steve speeds through the tape and flips it over and does the same to the other side. The rest of it is empty. He plays the song again. Listening with his eyes closed this time.
Then he jumps up, ejects the tape, grabs his keys and fumbles with the lock on the way out. He doesn’t let himself think. Just plays the song over and over for the fifteen minute drive to the trailer park. All the lights in the trailer are on and the music in Eddie’s room is blaring loud enough that Steve can hear it in his car with his own music still on.
He still doesn’t stop to think, just rushes out of the car and up the steps to pound on the door and when Eddie opens it with wide eyes and a healthy dose of fear on his face, Steve thinks for a second that he should say something, confirm that it’s a song written for him - about them both - but he can’t. Or he’ll chicken out. 
So, instead, he just steps into the trailer, forcing Eddie to take a step back, pushes the door shut behind him and whispers, “Too many small minds out there.” And kisses Eddie. 
It’s a good kiss too. Steve cradles Eddie’s head and tilts him just enough that he can get the perfect angle to …what’s the word in all those trashy books? Ravish. Steve ravishes Eddie’s mouth. It’s not sweet, it’s desperate and filled with need and when he finally lets go, Eddie’ lips are swollen and kiss bitten.
“I hope that song was telling me you like me or this is going to be a very awkward conversation.” Steve says when Eddie’s eyes flutter open.
“I’d have made you a whole mixtape but Wheeler told me this afternoon that the final song is the one that really matters.” Eddie grins then, wide and impish, swooping in to catch Steve’s mouth with his own. When he comes up for air, he whispers, “Besides, where was I gonna get an hour of ABBA songs?”
Growling, Steve walks Eddie backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he sits. “I’m more of a Springsteen fan, actually.” He says as he climbs into Eddie’s lap and swoops down for a kiss.
It’s frenzied and graceless, like the two desperate kids they still are. Neither of them old enough to buy a six pack of beer and both overflowing with the sexual tension they’ve built up between them. Steve can’t seem to stop kissing Eddie long enough to do anything more than grind himself down against Eddie’s lap. 
Luckily, Steve’s been in his old basketball shorts all day and Eddie changed into sweats sometime after he’d gotten home so there’s nothing but a few layers of cotton between their rock hard boners. 
Jesus, it feels like the first time Steve dry humped with some girl back in freshman year. But like, a thousand times better. Not just because they both have dicks but because it’s Eddie .
He rolls his hips, brushing their aforementioned dicks together and swallows Eddie’s groan. Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s hips, guiding him as he rolls them, flexing his hands around the softness there. When Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hands slip around and squeeze his ass, cupping it and helping him press their laps together. One of them whines as their dicks slot together just right and they both thrust against each other. 
“Stevie, fuck. Yes,” Eddie swears, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Then his tongue is back in Steve’s mouth, sliding along Steve’s, sucking on his bottom lip. He licks and nips and bites his way down Steve’s throat, probably leaving bruises and Steve should care about that but he doesn’t.
“Eddie, Eddie - I need,” It’s too fast, Steve knows he can last so much longer than this but he can’t seem to slow down. “Oh, god.”
“What, Stevie?” Eddie manages between grunts as they rut against each other desperately, “What do you need?”
Oh god, he’s almost there, Steve feels the warmth pooling in his belly, the muscles in his legs straining, the droplets of precome sticking to his underwear and Eddie’s hard cock pushing against the length of his own as he cries, “You, fuck, just you.” And then he comes, arching and fucking against Eddie. One hand buried in the hair at Eddie’s nape and the other digging his fingernails into Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie pulls Steve tight to his chest, one hand around his back, holding Steve close while he comes. Eddie’s still thrusting against Steve, rolling and pressing with his hips until he, too, arches and comes with a hoarse shout.
When Eddie relaxes back against the couch, Steve collapses in his lap, head resting on Eddie's shoulder, breath hot against his collarbone. Both fucked out and exhausted.
Minutes later, once the aftershocks have subsided for both of them and Steve’s sweaty forehead is pressed into the side of Eddie’s sweaty neck, Steve admits, “Fine, I like ABBA but who doesn’t? Those songs are catchy.”
Eddie snorts a laugh out. Then, it's a little gross, but they both start laughing and have to peel their damp crotches away from each other. Totally worth it, though, when Eddie brings Steve's hand up to his mouth, kissing the palm before he threads their fingers together so he can hold Steve's hand.
Thanks to @thefreakandthehair for hosting this challenge! It was super fun and I'm so glad I actually made it in under the deadline. Skin of my teeth!
Here's the Ao3 link if you want to drop me some love there - comments make my brain buzz and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the perfect Mike/Will or Steve/Eddie mixtape playlist!
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hello hello!! may I please request steve n hawkins where he’s a little bit more overprotective over her with billy—and she actually just lets him be? haha hope that makes sense and thank you so much for sharing your work!!
“Has Hargrove been buggin’ you again?”
Steve slung a leg over the bench, sliding in beside you. He set you with a soft look, even though his brows were furrowed. Worried. His hand reached out to touch, fingers skimming underneath your T-shirt to graze at your waist.
You thought about lying. You didn’t want to upset him, but you’d told Robin, a frustrated complaint late last night before bed ‘cause Billy wouldn’t shut up after Jason got sick and Murray set him on schedule with you.
“Princess…”
Robin must’ve told Steve. You sighed, not annoyed, but tired. Pushing away your lunch, you glanced across the table at Nancy who nodded in understanding. She murmured a goodbye and went off in search for trouble to break up, making a beeline for Dustin Henderson’s table, ‘cause Eddie (who was supposed to be on lunch duty) was too busy talking to the new girl.
Steve squeezed at your hip, waiting for an answer. You shrugged, your smile weak as a little defeated, ‘cause you didn’t want Steve to see how much the other boy was bothering you. As much as the bloody and rugged look suited your boyfriend, the deduction in wages wasn’t ideal, not when you were both saving up for a place together.
“When isn’t he?” You tried to joke, but Steve’s frown furrowed deeper. “Babe, it’s fine. It’s Billy. He’s… Billy.”
But Steve didn’t let it go. He saw the downturn of your lips, the way you leaned into his touch for comfort. “What’s he been saying?”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“You don’t want to know.” It’s like you could read his mind. The corner of Steve’s lips ticked up. “You’d push him in the lake or something stupid.”
Steve leaned in, chin hooked on your shoulder, nose nudging at your cheek, the closet he’d get to giving you a kiss with all the kids around. “That sounds pretty tame,” he commented.
“You wouldn’t let him back up,” you added, smiling.
Steve grinned, his hand bumping up the side of your ribs, ghosting too close to the band of your bra and you squirmed, shooting him a look that said, ‘behave.’
“You’ll tell me, though?” Steve asked, voice dropping to a low murmur, thumb soothing over the skin on your stomach. You turned into him, nose nudging his and you knew you would only be granted seconds of the closeness before some kid threw food at you both. “You’ll let me know if he takes it too far?”
You nodded, smiling, eyes drooping prettily, that soft, fond way that Steve fucking adored, ‘cause you only did it for him.
And then—
The mess hall doors slammed hard enough against the walls that several kids jumped. And rightfully so. Billy strolled in, sunglasses still on and wearing a denim jacket instead of his staff T-shirt. He bypassed Eddie who rolled his eyes at him, stole a slice of pizza from Mike Wheeler’s page and walked right up to where you and Steve were sitting.
Billy tore off a piece of the crust, grinning at you as he chewed and he looked ready to say something, something lewd, especially for Steve to hear. You braced yourself, eyes bored looking as you stared back at him, chin lifted. But before Billy could say a word, Steve cut him off, pulling you closer into the space between his legs as he did.
“Say one more word to my girl, Hargrove, and I’ll make sure Murray finds a reason to search your cabin again.”
Billy stared, eyes narrowed but still smiling. He was pissed off, you could tell. So could Steve, but the boy hid it with sardonic amusement.
“Is that right? Feelin’ like a big boy with your girl beside you, huh?
From the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie move closer, weaving between tables without drawing the kids attention. Steve met his gaze, eyes flicking from Billy’s just enough to nod at his friend. ‘Wait’, it said, ‘it’s fine.’
Eddie stilled.
Steve turned back to Billy, shrugging as he lay a wide, warm palm on your bare thigh. It felt protective, not possessive.
“Would be weird if he found some snow in July, wouldn’t it?” Steve shot him a look of faux confusion, but he tapped at his nose knowingly. 
Billy glared. But he took a step back, throwing his half eaten pizza on top of your lunch tray. 
“Whatever, Harrington.”
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gayofthefae · 4 months
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He's crying. But it isn't just "please come back to me, I love you". It's more complicated than that. I'm currently in the space that he's faking the romantic bits like love at first sight and telling the truth about everything else.
Mike tells him "you're the heart". He's reminded by Will "your words can help" and he knows that the truth won't but he knows what Will, and he once said "If I had said that thing..." and he has the opportunity to say that thing now to save her.
I think these tears are more in the vein of "please work. God, please work." Because this was a strategic decision. A strategic decision made with love, but a strategic decision nonetheless.
That's why Will has to encourage them. It shifts the scene from organically and emotionally begging her to come back to consciously assisting her, although still emotional, of course.
It started "El, please come back to me etc." Then Will reminded him. And he turned around and said "El, I don't know if you can hear me..." He started something new. He wouldn't have said it otherwise because before he was just begging her to come back to him. But then, he was trying to help. Ever the personal-life curse of Mike Wheeler, he tried to help and in the long run it's going to make it worse.
This wasn't just Mike begging her to come back and it managed to help. This wasn't him taking the opportunity of knowing it would help to say it like in the shed with Will. This was choosing his words specifically to help as best he could to bring her back to him. He was just trying to keep her alive. He isn't thinking "I hope you can hear that I love you, even if it doesn't help I want you to know". He's only saying it so it helps. He's saying "please believe me please work please believe me please work".
Other posts have covered how he pulls from others' words - Eddie talking about finding him and Dustin, his own speech to Will in season 2 - that's because he's choosing his words carefully. Lovingly strategic. The ideal combo to give her the most strength. That's why it sounds forced. Because he's choosing his words, not pouring his heart.
In the shed, he told Will how he felt; he told Will a story. Because he knew that the truth was filled with so much love. But here, he knew the truth wouldn't help, would maybe make it worse, so he picked his words carefully crafted to be exactly what she wanted to hear, went bullet by bullet through their fight, quoted the words of more honest people in more earnest moments, and did his best to help. In the shed, he let his filter down; poured his heart out. In this moment, he tried. That's why it felt forced. He had to try.
Even GA and some Milkvans agree, even if you think it was the truth...he was saying it for her, not him. That's why he braces himself for the effort he's about to exert the moment right before he says it.
If it was really the culmination of his arc, since we already know Brenner was the culmination of hers, he would have done it for himself. The reason it feels forced is because it wasn't written to sound unfiltered. Watching this scene, I didn't feel relief on his behalf that he could finally say it, because I didn't see any transition from not being able to say it the whole season...because there wasn't one. I couldn't root for what I didn't know was about to happen because I didn't even know he could say it yet. Because he couldn't. He forced himself to.
I was not relieved on his behalf because he wasn't. I was not proud of him doing it for him because he didn't. He did it for her. But her arc wasn't about that either. So now we're just stuck.
In conclusion, he told her he loved her because he wanted her to survive and he isn't begging "please know that I love you" he's begging "please believe me and please let it help"
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strangeswift · 9 months
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happy birthday to my best friend in the world, @elekinetic. pretend i finished this on time 🫶
Nancy Wheeler doesn't like hospitals.
There’s death and disease around every corner, it's always freezing cold, and the fluorescent lights give her a headache.
Plus, the vending machines always eat her quarters.
Most people don’t like hospitals, she knows that. But most people haven’t been chased through the sterile halls by a creature made of exploded human corpses, so Nancy likes to think she has an exceptionally good reason.
It’s that memory that haunts her now. It follows her down the brightly lit hospital corridor and makes her heart race as she walks a little faster, casting cursory glances over her shoulder. With every glance, she's half expecting to see a large mass of flesh and jagged bones gaining on her, leaving a trail of blood in its wake, staining the pristine white tile.
There’s nothing there, nothing but the memory, but she feels the bile rise in her throat anyway.
She focuses her attention on the numbers on the doorframes as she passes – 242, 244, 246.
248 - Maxine Mayfield.
She pauses outside the open door, taking in the sight. Bracing herself, maybe.
Max is almost alarmingly pale, though the dark circles under her eyes have cleared, making her look a little less sick and frail. Her arms lay at her sides, the casts having been recently removed. She wears a white hospital gown.
Max Mayfield has always looked like a sad kid, from the time she first moved to Hawkins – but seeing her like this is something entirely different. Laid up in a hospital bed, staring blankly ahead, her irises a milky blue color that betray her lack of vision. She looks helpless. Broken.
As shitty as it sounds, it’s hard to look at her. She’s just a kid – a kid that Nancy should have protected, but instead sent her to die. And she did. She died.
You’re just a kid, a voice that sounds something like Nancy’s mom tells her. But it's not true. It hasn’t been true for a long time.
“Who is it?” Max calls, in the vague direction of the door, “You’re supposed to announce yourself.”
She sounds frustrated, like it's a rule she’s reiterated several times before. It’s understandable, wanting some level of control.
Nancy clears her throat. “It’s Nancy.”
The scowl drops from Max’s face. “Sorry,” she says hurriedly, “I thought you were Mike.”
Nancy blinks. “You thought I was Mike? Why?”
“Your footsteps,” Max explains, “They sound like his.”
Nancy remembers having her mom and dad’s footsteps memorized, always listening for them during late night phone calls. Her mom’s were delicate and quick, while her dad’s were heavy and sluggish. She imagines having to experience the world that way, listening to the cadence of footsteps.
She steps into the room, acutely aware of the sound of her feet on the tile. “Can I sit?” she asks, resting her hand on the back of the chair next to Max’s bed, waiting for permission.
“Yeah,” Max says, granting it.
Nancy sits on the edge of the seat, her posture perfectly straight. She's stiff, she knows. Hopefully Max can't tell.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Shitty,” Max answers, “and blind," she adds.
Nancy grimaces and gives a nod of acknowledgment before she remembers that Max can't see it.
“Sorry,” Max says, to fill the silence, “I’m just– I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be fine,” Nancy says, shaking her head.
Max sighs deeply. "I know that."
She's heard it before, clearly.
“Everyone misses you,” Nancy tries, “Lucas and the boys, and Eleven.”
“El,” Max corrects automatically.
“Right. El,” Nancy amends.
Since Max woke up —since El got her back, that is— everyone's been taking turns visiting, so she's almost never alone, unless she asks for it. While Max was out, Lucas practically lived in her hospital room. He's moved back into the Sinclair house now, though he still visits twice a day. Nancy thinks he'd still be at the hospital all day if Max let him.
"Can I ask you something?" Max asks suddenly.
"Yeah," Nancy answers, "Yeah, of course."
Max pauses for a moment. "Vecna, and the monsters, and just– all this Upside Down shit we've dealt with," she says, "I've never seen you back down. From any of it. I've never seen you hesitate for a second. You just grab a gun and blow their heads off. I mean, you're like a total badass. It’s like– Like you're not afraid of anything."
Nancy shakes her head, a surprised smile creeping onto her face. "Was there a question somewhere in there?"
Max exhales sharply through her nose. "How do you do it?"
Nancy sees the way Max looks at her, almost reverent. And it's a little silly, she thinks, until she considers herself from an outside perspective. She thinks of herself at fourteen, the quiet girl who kept her head down and had just one friend. The girl who everyone thought was a priss. If that girl had seen her older self, feet planted firmly to the ground, firing shots into a demogorgon's gaping mouth as it roared, she thinks she'd probably be a little awestruck too.
Nancy remembers the first time she shot a gun. Standing in a field next to Jonathan Byers, gaze locked on a beer can, spurred on by the knowledge that her parents would disapprove. She remembers feeling like she was outside of herself, watching this girl who looked like her and felt like her but couldn't possibly be her, because this girl wielded a deadly weapon with measured confidence.
When she stops to really think about it —something she hasn't had the time or energy to do in years, constantly in survival mode— she almost doesn't know how she does it.
But the girl who fell through a tree into another world, who trembled and cried out for a boy she hardly knew, was not fearless. The girl who watched Will Byers, her little brother's sweet best friend grip his mother by the throat was not fearless. The girl who looked Henry Creel in the eye was not fearless.
Nancy Wheeler is not, and has never been, fearless.
Max fidgets, noting Nancy's lack of response. "I hate the way he was able to control me," she admits.
There's no question as to which he Max is referring to.
"When– If he comes for me again–"
"We won’t let him," Nancy interjects, her gaze fierce enough that she wonders if Max can feel it.
"We both know," Max says carefully, "that neither of us can stop that from happening."
“Okay," Nancy allows, "you’re right.”
"If he tries to get in my head again," Max says, "I want to be ready this time."
"It's not something you can be ready for," Nancy responds.
Max's face scrunches up, and Nancy can almost hear that's easy for you to say.
So she takes a different approach.
"When he got to me," she says carefully, "he showed me things." She pauses, takes a breath. "Do you know about Barb?"
"Like– a little," Max says with a shrug.
"She was my best friend," Nancy says, "My only friend, actually. And the demogorgon took her. He took her, I mean, just like he took Will. Only, she died in the Upside Down. Scared and alone."
She recounts Barb's death with a flat affect, like an investigator listing the facts of a case, the way she's heard Hopper or Murray do. She's thought about it so many times she almost feels numb, but in the icy, pins and needles kind of way.
"We were at Steve's that night," she continues, "and Barb wanted to leave. She wanted to leave and I– I told her to go without me, because I wanted to go upstairs with Steve."
She pauses. Max doesn't react.
"That was the last time I ever saw her. Until Henry– he showed her to me, and she was–" Her voice breaks, she takes a breath.
Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?
That's how she knows he was taunting her. He can see her thoughts, and her memories, and so he knows. He knows she didn't forget. He knows it hangs over her like a dark cloud and casts a shadow over everything good in her life.
When I kill someone, I never forget.
"It was awful," she says quietly, "and it paralyzed me. There was nothing I could have done, because that's what he does. He uses your weaknesses against you."
Max closes her eyes, tilting her head back for a moment.
"It was Billy," Max says, opening her eyes, "He showed me Billy."
Immediately, Nancy knows that Henry taunted Max in the same way he did her.
"You couldn't have saved Billy," she says.
"Maybe not. But I could have tried," Max says bitterly.
"You would have died trying," Nancy argues.
"I used to wish he was dead," Max says bluntly.
Nancy's protests die on her tongue, caught off guard for a second.
"Before Starcourt," Max explains, "Before everything. I hated him."
"Max," Nancy says gently, "Billy was–"
"He was an asshole, I know," Max finishes, "A real fucking asshole. That doesn't make it okay."
Nancy shrugs. "I don't know, I think I've wished my dad would drop dead a few times before, and the only thing he ever did to me was not give a shit."
Max's eyes widen and she lets out a startled laugh. Nancy can't help but smile as she watches the tension leave her face. But it comes back just as quickly.
"He wasn't a good person," Max says, "and he sure as hell wasn't a good brother, but–" she takes a breath, "I wanted him to be. So badly. And just– now he never will, I guess."
Nancy thinks, for a moment, of Mike. She wonders if he's ever wished for her to just be an older sister. It's not the same, obviously. She's not Billy, not some abusive creep. But she's not Jonathan either. Mike isn't at the center of her life the way Will is for Jonathan. He's never needed her to prioritize him that way. At least, it didn't seem like he did.
"Whatever, it's stupid," Max finally says.
"It's not stupid," Nancy responds immediately.
Max reminds Nancy a lot of Mike. High strung, short tempered, a habit of pushing people away. But things are different with Max. Easier. There's no guilt that lies just below the surface, that builds and builds until it feels almost insurmountable, so you keep it buried.
And really, how is she supposed to talk to Mike when she's pretty clearly the last person he wants to talk to? She feels powerless with him. She feels powerless all of the time now. Her brother just got dumped by his girlfriend and he refuses to talk to anyone about it, her own relationship with Jonathan feels destined to fail, Steve Harrignton is making plans concerning her that she definitely had no say in–
Oh, and the world is ending.
There's nothing she can do to make any of it better, because she's not a great sister, or an exceptional girlfriend, or some kind of hero. She's not even the person Max Mayfield thinks she is, she's just–
She's just Nancy.
But she can talk to Max. Max is hurting and she needs someone, and Nancy can talk to her.
Max's eyes are glassy now, tears threatening to spill over.
“Hey,” Nancy says gently, “It's not stupid, okay?”
Max nods and takes a shaky breath. “Okay.”
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