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lilibug--xx · 6 years

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the skyline in my veins

a late posting for mileven week → day seven: in the rain

this is actually inspired by a post from @eleven-n-mike that moved me enough to write a little bit about it.

thank you to @stark for being my sounding board and beta for this lovely little thing.

also! a playlist (not necessarily best reading music, but what I listened to while writing that gave me good 80s or mileven vibes): animal kingdom - chaos emeralds / eighteen - dive in / everything’s a dream - rosa / arrow - levv / lovers - anna of the north

. . .

. .

On November 7th she wakes to find it raining in sheets, sky bleak and grey.

There are droplets on the windowsill of the old log cabin, cracked and peeling paint that was once supposed to be a shade of white. El runs her finger through them, catching the water and remembering all the times when particularly hard torrent would come pouring in. A fond smile graced her lips, eyes finding the line of trees that circles the house.

The branches sway, dancing in the swirling wind and she remembers how they felt against her skin so many years ago. Feet bare in the soil, turning to soupy mud beneath her toes as she ran fast and hard. Her lungs burning with the breath of cold air, wet leaves and branches slapping her arms, bushes scratching against her legs in the brush of the forest.

There’s knocking on her bedroom door that pulls her from the memory just as quickly as it sucked her in.

The simple, comforting raps against the wood (two one three), have her pulling back from the where she’d been pressing her forehead against the cool glass pane.

“Yes?” El clears her throat, touching the base of her neck before tucking hair behind her ear. It’s frizzy under her finger tips and her eyes roll back to the window before the door opens with a squeak of it’s tired hinges.

Hopper inches through frame, leaning against the knob. “Raining pretty hard out there.” He takes a sip from his mug, but it doesn’t hide his frown or the crease between his brows.

It’s rained more than not in the past week, today is no different than any other.

Except that it is.

“It’s still early,” she offers with a shrug of her shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just looks around her room before landing on the small vanity where only a couple products are spread across the surface. “You doin’ that yourself?”

With a nod, she folds herself into the small chair and stares at her reflection. It’s changed since the last time she looked through this mirror, smudged with time and age, and another life lived well before hers.

“Joyce is coming to help with my hair.”

His head bobs up and down, lips smacking together after taking a gulp of his coffee. “Of course. She might have mentioned that.” He runs his hand through the wisps of hair that seem to grow more sparse every year and then he smiles that wide, crinkly smile of his. “Think she’ll do mine?”

It nearly cracks her face in two, laughter bubbling in her chest that feels so welcome. “Maybe if you ask nicely,” she teases.

He walks further into the room, just to ruffle her hair.

She paws at his arm, shoving his heavy palm from her head — he gives her another pat. “I’m not so far removed from knowing what it’s like. To have no hair.”

His eyebrows lift. “You call ten years not long ago?”

El looks up at him through the mirror before picking up the pale pink brush in front of her. “It feels like yesterday.” Her fingers pluck at the bristles before she draws it through the length of her hair, scalp to sternum.

The time has seemed to pass in a whirlwind when she looks back at it, though in the moment it felt endless. She supposes it will always be like that, or so she hopes. Today is a day that will pass just as quickly.

He watches her brush the barely there waves indented in her hair. “It certainly feels like a lifetime to me. I’ve gotten enough grey hair to prove it.”

Her eyes roll, shoo-ing him with her hand. “Enough of you, old man. Let me get ready in peace. I have to make myself presentable.”

“You’re perfect just like this, Ellie bear.”

Her heart sings with familiarity, longing for the nickname that was always just hers.“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad, but — I have to do something.”

“I reckon Mike would agree with me, you know.”

“Well, I reckon Mike would say that even if I was covered in… in boils or something.” Her nose scrunches up and she shakes her head. “Minimal at best, something all the same.”

“Well, just be mindful of the rain. I’m not sure it’s going to stop.”

There is a long pause as she opens the containers of eyeshadow, pumps the tube of mascara.

“You sure this isn’t going to upset things?”

The question is double sided.

She thinks about the chairs they lined up in front of the weeping willow, just off the big curve on Mirkwood. And of the trunk of the tree that so long ago Mike had sloppily carved their initials into with the knife he’d taken from Jonathan’s desk. Of the caterer that Karen and Ted splurged on. Of the whispered words of promise that left both their lips that they would echo today. Of their friends.

She shakes her head. “It’ll be perfect.”

He doesn’t look as confident as her, wary as he turns toward the window. “If you say so. I’ll leave you to it. Joyce is comin’ down shortly. Said she’d be here by noon.”

“With the dress?”

He nods. “With the dress.”

“Perfect.”

Her smile is infectious and he returns it back to her before pulling the door shut on the way out.

Focusing on the mirror, she applies her makeup in light strokes. In hindsight, she doesn’t really expect it to last all day.

Rubbing under her nose unconsciously, she hears the plunk of the objects in the room settling back into place. Closing her eyes, the blackness fills the cracks and pores where her anxiety bleeds. Taking a breath, she opens her eyes and tosses her hair over her shoulders then takes her time with the brushes that still feel foreign in her hand. The sound of the rain calming the itch in her fingers and the buzz of her skin.

When the door opens sometime later, it’s a wonder she has finished anything at all. Mind so far away when all she wants to be with—

“El, sweetie?”

Joyce is hesitantly coming through the door, arms full with a garment bag and a case of hair rollers. Her own face done up in exactly the way El has always admired. Simple and elegant, a rare thing, but always a joy.

She giggles to herself, lips curving into a smile as she stands to welcome Joyce with a sideways hug. “You look really pretty.” Her finger twists around a curl hanging over the woman’s shoulder, before accepting the bag with the dress zipped inside. Fingers curling around the blue and white gingham seersucker, she turns to lay it across the single bed tucked into the corner of the room.

“Thank you, but you’re the pretty little thing today,” Joyce says somewhat bashfully, waving her off and setting the case of curlers onto the vanity. “Now, let’s get your hair set up.”

El abandons the dress with a forlorn look and slides back into the chair that creaks in mild protest.

“Are you ready for today?”

She watches Joyce unzip the clear plastic, removing a variety of rollers, clips, and a hair dryer. Her nails tap against her leg, smooth where she’d scrubbed and shaved that morning in the bath.

“Yes.”

A comforting smile reflects back at her, and it calms the fluttering storm of butterflies that she had seemingly swallowed.

“I think it’ll be really great. I just hope everyone brings their umbrellas.”

“They might need a boat, too.”

Joyce squeezes her shoulder before running a couple fingers through El’s hair as she sprays some water to wet the strands. “So do you want it all pulled back? All the curl will fall out anyway, but it might hold better.”

“Oh, well — I’d really like it mostly down. I don’t care about the rain.”

“You’re sure? Are you going to hold an umbrella?”

“I don’t think so.”

There a soft frown on Joyce’s face that she wants nothing more than to erase.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Just maybe — some strands from the front pulled back into a braided bun? Then the rest curled?” She pleads, chewing on her lip and already smearing the sticky gloss spread over them.

“Well — alright. If you’re really sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, let’s get to work then.” She smiles again, looking down at El as she begins again on her hair.

They roll her damp hair into the neon-orange curlers and it reminds her of all the times that they did this for school dances, year after year. Each one the test for something new that Mike would always be wowed by, as if he wouldn’t be if she just wore it like every other day.

The thought has her squeezing her eyes shut, wondering what Mike was doing. If he was being nagged by Karen about taking a thousand pictures before anything even began or busy tying the bow tie she’d sewn by hand or the more probable situation — Ted tying the bowtie and Mike whining about it.

The hot blast of air from the hair dryer as it waved back and forth over her head has her opening her eyes, Joyce’s soft humming of a familiar tune barely hitting her ears. But she recognizes the notes, heart clenching at the sound and filling with warmth that spreads out to her toes.

They’ll dance to it later, her and Mike. She looks forward to twirling around in the school gymnasium one more time with their song playing overhead. It might be a little cheesy, but they were nothing if not romantic. Their friends certainly had a slew of names for it — though in jest. Mostly.

When her hair is dry and finger combed through, Joyce picks apart the strands to braid a few backwards for a dainty bun secured with bobby pins that shimmer at the ends. It looks elegant without being too formal which is exactly what she wanted.

El touches the base of her throat, where the little silver key rests just below her fingers and she runs her nail across the chain. “Thank you,” she says softly, too quiet. Turning to look up at her step mother, she reaches out to grab her ever busy hands — the nervous shake never quite hidden. “Thank you, Joyce. For this — the dress — for everything.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, lips pursing together before she shakes her head. “It’s my pleasure. When I was younger I always wanted a daughter — and I got the best one.”

El all but leaps from the chair, curling her arms around Joyce’s waist in a hug as she slots her chin into the crook of her neck. There are a million words stuck in her throat, not quite sure what else to say or how to say it. It’s something she still struggles with, to articulate the mess of feelings that fills her veins with each shade of the rainbow. So she breathes in. The scent of Rave clinging to Joyce’s curls making her a little dizzy as she squeezes her arms just a little tighter. “I love you.”

Joyce rubs across her back, soothingly, and it does wonders in getting her to relax. “I know. I know you do, and I love you, too. Your dad and I are so proud of you. You know that?” She pulls back to tilt El’s chin up and pat her cheek. “You and Mike are going to do great in Chicago.”

“Thanks,” she says, trying not to let her voice crack, arms folding around her middle while shuffling over to the bed. It’s a wonder she won’t have to redo her makeup, but she supposes that rivers run dry and so tear ducts.

“I’m going to go see if your dad needs any help.”

The sound of tip-taps against the hardwood as Joyce exits, and closes the door has her chewing on her lip. The strawberry lip gloss hits her tongue, but she doesn’t stop.

It’s always been scary. The future.

She spent her life, even this day, wondering if today was going to be the day that something or someone was going to come for her. To take everything away. To take her away.

Then, there was the matter of careers and normal lives, and growing older by the second. Long, tortuous years of school finished and jobs to be started. In different states and some, far far away from everything they’ve ever known.

El keeps those difficult thoughts in the back of her head, turning them over and over like a roasting marshmallow, clinging to ash that threatens to fall. She can smell the flame and fire, the salt and blood, and swipes her fingers under her nose as her mind suddenly begins to ache and scream as her limbs feel prickly and numb.

She freezes for a moment, listening to the rain and her parents in the next room fussing over each other. There is nothing else. No click of a gun, roll of big black tires, or unfamiliar footsteps.

Her stomach leaps to her throat, hair raising along her arms and neck as she dives for the bottom drawer of the nightstand. She yanks it open and finds the supercom resting atop a stack of notebooks, right where she left it.

Fumbling with the knobs, she clicks it on with hope that there is still some life left in it.

Immediately, there is a broken, crackly, “El?” that filters through and does little to settle her.

“Mike? Mike, is everything okay?”

She waits for a moment, sinking down to the floor and sitting with her back against the bed. There is a trepidation in her fingers as the com waves flutter.

“Yeah.”

Is his reply and she wants to believe it, but needs more than that. Always more than that.

“Everything’s fine, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Her eyes slip closed and she shakes her head. “I was scared, Mike. I got this really weird feeling.”

He audibly sighs and she can practically see him running a hand through his unruly hair.

She could close her eyes, concentrate, and take a peek if she really wanted. But there was a reason they were apart the last day.

“Sorry. I’ve been trying to get you on the comm for, like, 30 minutes. Forgot to tell you to turn it on yesterday morning.”

There’s a quietness for a moment as she lets herself calm back down. Because everything is okay. Mike is okay.

“Why didn’t you just… call? On the phone?” She raps her nails against her knee, fingers circling the bruise on the inside.

“Well, yeah, I guess I could have. But… this was cooler.”

El rolls her eyes, leaning her head back against the bed. “Mike.”

“Hey! It’s like old times, you know? When we would talk all night and then my mom would throw a fit when I kept asking for more batteries.”

She can imagine Karen’s face exactly, with that little scrunch between her eyebrows that she’s always trying to fix with creams and serums.

“She totally knew you weren’t sleeping at night.”

“Trust me, that’s the better version,” he pauses for a moment. “Do you think that she knows I started sneaking out and going over to your house instead?”

Something inside her twists in excitement, at the memory of the thrill of turning the lock with a tilt of her head and sneaking his tall frame through her small window. She’s smiling. “I really hope not. But she never said anything or tried to stop you. So who knows.”

There’s a quietness that crackles over the static in the channel.

“I love you,” Mike says softly, like he’s whispering into the com. “I missed you last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

Her head drops back against the single mattress behind her and she nods in agreement. “Me either. I didn’t think it would be so hard.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really think I’d miss your snoring, but I did.”

El picks her head up, glaring down at the com in her hands, hoping that he can feel it through the distance between them. She pressed down on the trigger harder than necessary. “I do not snore.”

His laughter is a throaty chuckle and it sends shivers down her spine. She aches to run her hands through the curls in his hair, softer than her own, and play connect the dots within the freckles that cover his skin. She crosses her ankles over one another, picking at the hem of her shorts. The clock on her nightstand ticks down to the next hour — to when they’ll see each other again.

“Just kidding. Maybe.”

She bristles, wondering if she really does snore.

“So… are you ready?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything else.

Turning in her spot, she runs her nail across the fabric bows of the garment bag, old and time-faded. “Not all the way.”

“What are you wearing right now?”

She imagines the way his cheeks are probably dusted with pink, realizing just how that sounds and she holds in her laughter.

“Pajamas.”

“It’s almost time, you know.”

“Yes.” Her fingers tugging on the zipper of the bag until it reveals the cream lace hidden within. It’s soft under her touch. She hears rustling through the com, hears his soft breath and wonders if he’s just laid down on the bed. “Joyce’s dress is going to get wet.”

“Your dress is going to get wet.”

It’s a gift, one that her real mother wasn’t able to pass to her, but one that Joyce was more than happy to.

She slides the dress from the bag and spreads it across the bed. “It’s really pretty, Mike. Too pretty.”

“Nothing’s too pretty for you,” he says without a beat. “Don’t worry about the rain.”

El hums, hanging up the bag on the back of the door and then turning the dress over to reveal the back and the fabric buttons hidden in the lace. She picks up the com beside the dress, turns her back to it and looks back out the window. “I’m not worried. It’s good luck, you know? To be married in the rain.”

He seems surprised. “Really? Are you sure it’s not some terrible superstition that we’re doomed to be down on our luck for eternity and we have to live, like, with our parents or who knows — maybe with Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve, oh god that would be terrible — and we’re forced to endure some—”

“Mike.”

“—weird body horror nightmares or something straight out of a conspiracy theory—”

She thinks for moment, that they have already done that. Thrice, in fact.

“Mike.”

His ramblings quiet on the other end and she feels him close his eyes and breathe, as if he were right next to her.

“It’s almost exactly like the day we met.” She offers, the most prominent part of today — of their future — no matter what it held, would be exactly how they started.

Of course, she’s a little bit scared about everything changing so vastly, from their location to when and how often they would get to see their friends. But, there’s part of her that’s excited for new opportunities and experiences as well. And she’s excited that she gets to navigate these fresh waters with Mike. They have a lot of firsts together and more is always appealing.

“Well, not exactly the same. Hopefully. Because, I’m not sure I can go through Will disappearing again.” The line quiets and then he sounds a little bit faraway, “Will? ….Will!”

Her nose scrunches up in laughter, hearing the muffled voice of their friend, her step-brother, in the background. “Found him?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep an eye on that one, for sure. Whew. Crisis avoided.” She can hear his grin.

The clock edges closer to 4pm, ticking down the seconds until they’re together again. She’s nervous, despite the calmness that the rain washes her in.

“So…”

“So,” he echoes.

El fidgets with buttons on the dress, popping them open one by one down the back. “I have to get dressed.”

“By all means, go ahead.”

She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sets the com down on the bed, but not before asking, cheekily, “What are you wearing, over there?” and then chucks her sleep shorts and t-shirt atop her overnight bag.

There’s a lacy set of antique lace undergarments that she might have spent a sizeable amount of money on under the influence of Max, that makes its way onto her person.

“Oh, I’ve been ready for a while. It’s going to be a miracle if I don’t sweat through my suit jacket. And this bowtie — El, I love it, I do, but — it’s, like, suffocating me.”

She steps into the dress and brings the lace sleeves up about her arms. Her ankles stare up at her, and she wiggles her toes against the floorboards as she presses the com. “You’ll be fine. It’s only for a little while.”

The row of buttons going up the back have to wait for another set of hands, but she admires the view in the mirror anyway. It’s not often that she finds herself feeling particularly confident in her appearance, but today is a good day.

Mike loves her always, but he will really love this.

He has a thing for texture and the dress has a multitude. Silk, or maybe chiffon, with lace overtop that encompasses her shoulders and makes up the train. Then there’s velvet that cinches the dress in an empire waist, with pearls sewn into band.

She almost groans at the amount of PDA that will surely arise, but screw everyone else; it’stheir day.

“I’ll see you soon,” she whispers into the com.

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“O-kay. I love you, over and out.” He sounds like his knee is bouncing up and down a mile a minute.

“I love you, too, Mike. Over and out.”

She flips the switch on the com and places it back in the drawer, sliding it closed to rest for however long until the next time they needed them. It was few and far between now.

Stepping into the low heels, it elevates her frame a couple of inches and she trots over to the doorway after pulling her necklace out to lay overtop the dress.

When she opens the door, the stillness of a hurried conversation dying has her skin buzzing. “Dad? Could you button me up?”

The next five minutes pull more emotion from Hopper than she’s seen in a while. The look on his face as he tries not to cry have her tear ducts suddenly working overtime. Who ever said that weddings were happy? It seemed like people cried more than anything.

He hugs her for a long time, her head tucked into his chest and the smell of a rented tux along with the smell of smoke have her sighing.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you hitched. It’s about damn time.” He almost ruffles her hair until Joyce smacks him on the arm.

Despite the rain, the clouds have brightened and there are bits of sunshine peeking through. They pile out onto the porch, hurrying to the cars between the raindrops.

The old blazer looks past its prime next to Joyce’s new bonneville, shiny and new. She looks right at home as she pulls onto the road.

El slides into the front seat of the cruiser, clips the seat belt buckle across her lap and turns her head to the side as Hopper turns the ignition.

It isn’t a very far drive, but she admires it through the droplet covered window; scenery unfolding in breathtaking beauty through the steady drizzle. Splashes of marigold and dots of tangerine within the fading greens, wine splashed across the skyline as the sun begins to dip far sooner than she ever likes.

Then the car is stopping and her heart rate speeds up.

“Ready?” Hopper raises his eyebrows.

“Definitely.” She slides her feet from her heels, and pulls the door handle to step out into the wet grass with bare toes.

There’s a small incline to hike up and she lifts the hem of her dress, hoping that she isn’t soiling it beyond the point of a dry cleaning. But as she digs her toes into the ground, chilly and wet, she lets the fabric fall down and hooks an arm around Hopper’s elbow.

With a bouquet of aster and chrysanthemums, El walks toward Mike.

He’s already crying. Rubbing the back of his hand under his eye as their friends flank either side of the tree, waiting for her.

A droplet of rain (or is that a tear?) slides down to the tip of her nose as she smiles.

Hopper kisses her forehead sweetly and places her hand in Mike’s slightly damp palm.

She squeezes him. “Hi.”

His shoulders relax the second she touched him, slumping forward to hide his height and then he’s sloping down to kiss her cheek, ignoring a huff from the minister.

“Hi, yourself. You look… really, really beautiful.”

El beams then makes a little humming sound under her breath. “Look who’s talking.” She has the urge to reach up and tweak his bowtie sitting crooked at his neck, but let’s it slide. The dinosaur print seems to wink at her, though it makes her fingers ache in painstaking remembrance.

They can’t quite stop staring at each other, which isn’t so different than normal. But today feels just like the first day they met, goosebumps rising along her skin as she blinks through the raindrops and stares up at him.

The view might have changed a bit, but it feels familiar and right. Their love for each other is interlaced between every moment and it steals her breath to think of beginning her new life with Mike in the rain, just like all those years ago.

#mileven #milevenweek2018 #mike wheeler #el hopper #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mileven fanfiction #jane hopper #eleven x mike #mike wheeler x eleven #michael wheeler #just a cute little oneshot #older mileven #lilibugcreates

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urdearestmom · 6 years

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in the rain (mileven week)

It’s raining heavily outside, so much so that Mike can’t even see out the windows. Everybody’s converged at the Byers-Hopper place, just like before (except before it had just been the Byers place. Now it’s a new house with a bigger family), and everything is going to shit. The Mind Flayer is back and worse than ever, worse even than the summer of ‘85. Everyone in Hawkins has been in hiding for the last week, and it’s been torrentially raining the whole time.

Finally, El decides that her last resort is going to have to happen: she’s going to have to go back to the lab. Everyone seems resigned to the fact; they’ve done everything they could but it’s looking like there’s no other choice. Her boyfriend, however, is absolutely not having it.

She’s doing it again. She’s trying to leave him behind. He can’t believe it.

When she announces her plan to have Hopper take her there, Mike has to go sit in another room for a few minutes and try not to scream. He can’t just let her go back there- not to the hellhole she grew up in and that might very well be the last place she stands alive.

“No,” he tells himself. “You’re not allowed to think like that.” A few seconds later he groans and hides his face in his hands. “Who am I kidding…”

Mike doesn’t want to think like that, of course he doesn’t, but if he’s being realistic… He stands up angrily and pushes himself back into the front room where everyone is huddled. El eyes him in worry, looking him over. He’s pretty sure he looked like he was going to puke when he left the room, so that’s probably it.

“I’m coming with you,” he states.

Her face pales and it’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Their friends are silent as if holding their breaths, waiting for the explosive fight they all know is on their hands. Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose and groans.

“Kid, no, it’s too dangerous,” says Hopper.

Mike’s hands ball up into fists. “I don’t care! You’re not separating me from El again. I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re sixteen!”

The teen glares, eyebrows coming together in the middle angrily. “I don’t care.”

Hopper closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, then mutters a goodbye and walks out the door.

Mike turns to El. “I’m coming.” He starts shrugging on the nearest jacket he finds.

El’s shaking her head repeatedly. “No, no you’re not.”

“I am,” Mike refutes her, fumbling with the zipper.

“Absolutely not,” El answers, her voice quickly becoming cold. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t care, El! You’re not leaving me behind again,” he says, voice filled with heated anger. They’re like fire and ice in this moment; polar opposites clashing violently.

El looks at him for one more moment before she wrenches open the front door and stalks outside. Mike follows with a, “See you later, guys,” thrown over his shoulder.

Hopper’s already inside the Blazer, but El stops walking when she hears the door slam behind her.

“I told you no!” She screams, whipping around.

“And I told you I don’t care!” Mike screams back. They’re both shaking. He’s not sure whether it’s anger, fear, cold, or a mixture of all three.

El’s jaw sets as he walks towards her, her eyes glimmering with tears. “I can’t let you come. I won’t be able to help you if something happens,” she says. She’s yelling to be heard over the rain they’re standing in.

And it’s this that does it- Mike understands her concern, he really does- but it makes him feel even more useless than he already does on a daily basis.

“I don’t need your help, I can help myself! I’m not the twelve-year-old who jumped off a cliff anymore, El! For fuck’s sake, take me seriously!”

“I do take you seriously!” She sobs. “I can’t let anything happen to you! You’re the most important person in my life, do you understand that?!”

“You’re the most important one in mine, do you understand?!” He roars.

She punches him. It’s unexpected, but then she keeps going. She slams her fists against his chest repeatedly, howling.

“I hate you! I hate you so much! Go away!”

He can’t tell if she’s crying or not, there’s too much water pouring out of the sky, but she probably is. He is, anyway. He pushes her away.

“Punching me isn’t going to make me go back inside!” He yells. “I’m coming whether you want me to or not! I won’t let you leave me here again!”

“I don’t want to leave you, I have to!”

“You don’t have to anything! I’m my own person, I can make own decisions, goddammit!” His throat is raw already from screaming. “I’m not a baby! Respect me!”

El looks at him like he’s just slapped her. “I do!” She yells furiously. “You’re the one not respecting me! I don’t want you there, you’re a distraction!”

Mike stands, dumbstruck at her words. He laughs humourlessly. “I’m a distraction?! That’s all I am to you?!”

“No!” She shrieks. “I just- fucking hell, Mike!”

As she stands there in the rain, hair plastered to her head and clothes soaked through, brokenly staring at him, something in Mike cracks. He reaches out quickly and pulls her face towards his in a swift motion, latching onto her lips almost like a leech.

It’s cold, and he’s angry and desperate and soaking wet, and all of that pours into their kiss. It’s not the best kiss they’ve ever had as it’s under terrible circumstances, but something about it is oddly fitting of their relationship. They met in the rain on a night full of danger just like this one; it’s only right that they should share what could potentially be their last kiss in the rain, too.

El steps away from him before jumping back and hugging him tightly, and Mike presses his face into her wet hair. He can feel her trembling against him, and as much as he wishes he could be strong and dependable in this situation, he knows he would never be able to. Not when it comes to her.

“I love you entirely, El Hopper,” says Mike, loud to be heard over the tempest around them. “I’ll fucking walk if I have to but I am not staying here.”

A moment later, El steps back again and starts walking toward the Blazer. “Come on,” she calls, “Hopper’s waiting!”

Once inside, she grasps Mike’s hand and locks their fingers. “We have a job to do.”

That’s right, you bastard, thinks Mike. We’re coming for you. The Mind Flayer won’t stand a chance.

#MilevenWeek2018 #mileven week #mileven #mileven fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mike wheeler #eleven #jane hopper #el hopper

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formerlyjannafaye · 6 years

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Mileven Week 2018 ~ Long Distance

love letters / mixed tapes / marathon phone calls / polaroids / long hello and goodbye kisses / hidden notes left in sweater pockets and suitcases / promises that this isn’t forever / promises that they will one day be together

#MilevenWeek2018 #moodboard #mileven #sorry i didn't write a fic #this is as creative as it gets these days #i cannot headcanon these two apart it makes me SAD

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lovelysheree · 6 years

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Moving in Together

One-shot for Mileven Week 2018 prompt of the day! (No summary, sorry. But I mean, it’s literally one click away so...)

Read on AO3.org or ff.net

#milevenweek2018 #mileven #mike wheeler #el hopper #eleven #el #Jane el hopper #Jane hopper #jopper

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dcbicki · 6 years

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#MilevenWeek2018, Day 4: Genderbend ♡ “Michaela ‘Mikey’ Wheeler & Elliott ‘El’ Ives”

Middle child and total tomboy Michaela Wheeler finds her world turned upside down after her childhood friend Will suddenly goes missing. While searching for him out in the woods with her friends, she instead encounters a strange, quiet kid with no name and an ‘011′ tattoo on his left arm. And he's kind of... well, gifted.

#mileven #milevenweek #milevenweek2018 #stranger things #stranger things au #strangerthingsedit #edit*#milevenau #ship: mike x el #**i don't like it but i made it a while ago and i don't wanna remake anything so i'm just gonna post it #q

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fatechica · 6 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler Characters: Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Joyce Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Idiots in Love, It's a Multi-Part Epilogue Everyone!, Inspired by the prompts for Mileven Week Series: Part 2 of together, you and i, the extended edition Summary:

Glimpses of a life lived happily ever after....

Or, Mike and El over the first 18 months of their relationship.

I did a thing! Enjoy!!

God bless Mileven Week, y’all...

#stranger things #mileven #milevenweek2018 #honestly wrote this over two hours

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milevenappreciationweek · 6 years

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Reminder: M I L E V E N W E E K (Nov 6th-12th) Get ready, everyone: Mileven Week starts tomorrow!

We are just ONE DAY away from some really exciting events in the Stranger Things fandom: not only is tomorrow, November 6th, the official Stranger Things day (fingers crossed for a teaser trailer or something!), but it is also the start of Mileven Week, a full 7-day-long celebration of our love for Mike and Eleven and their adorable relationship!

You can start getting your fanworks ready to post for the first Mileven Week theme (”Long Distance”) and subsequent themes. Your work can be anything, from fanfiction, to fanart, edits, fan videos, cosplay, headcanons, or even essays. It’s all welcome! And you can use any possible interpretation of the themes. Just post your work (or a link to it) on Tumblr using the tag #MilevenWeek2018 on the assigned day for its respective theme, and one of the admins will reblog them to the official @mileven-week blog so that more people get the chance to see them.

If you still have any doubts or questions about how this event is going to work, be sure to check our About and Frequently Asked Questions pages, or feel free to ask the admins directly. We’re hoping to get lots of entries so that we can all rejoice in the love of our favorite ship, so be sure to get your works ready for posting! We can’t wait to see them.

#stranger things #mileven #mike x eleven #mileven week #mike wheeler #eleven #jane hopper #mileven week 2018 #milevenweek #milevenweek2018 #admin

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michael-hearteyes-wheeler · 6 years

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In Between

Almost two years have gone by since the infamous closing of the gate. Almost two years of relative peace in Hawkins. Almost two years with no monsters, no hiding, and no signs of activity in Hawkins Lab. The Party is older now, and most of the damage done in 84′ is long healed over, with only a few scars remaining.

El Hopper knows its a bad idea to let her guard down, but things are so good now. What could there possibly be to worry over? Her friends are all safe, Hopper is safe, Mike is safe, and she is happy. So why have the nightmares started again? And why is she seeing things that cant possibly be real? Visions of darkness, of sterile hallways, of a small girl with dark hair. And that voice, the one she could never forget.

She might not know whats coming, but, at least this time, she isn't going in alone.

Its 1986, and the other shoe is finally about to drop.

A Stranger Things Fanfic about all that’s happened, and what comes next.

(AO3 Link coming soon!)

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fangirlingstrangerthings · 6 years

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I am SO excited about today and this whole week! 😍 @mileven-week

#strangerthingsday #milevenweek2018 #mileven #stranger things fandom #strangerthings #stranger things fan #mike wheeler #el hopper #mike and eleven #mileven fan fic #mileven fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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lilibug--xx · 6 years

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mileven week → day two: fate

Ever since the day he'd plowered into her, running through the arcade and knocking her flat on her back, things had been different.

It was as if there was a tangible thread that she might reach out and pluck between her fingers, always stretched painfully tight whenever he was far.

Hawkins was a small town and she was a nobody. Always invisible unless she wanted to be seen.

But he saw her.

Read her like an open book from that very first day where he'd dusted off the worn-in knees of his jeans and thrust out his hand to help her up, rambling an apology.

He had caught her hook, line, and sinker.

#milevenweek2018 #mileven #mike wheeler #jane hopper #stranger things #el hopper #eleven #mike x eleven #mike wheeler x eleven #strangerthingsedit #milevenedit #stranger things aesthetic #mileven aesthetic #fate au #lilibugcreates

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urdearestmom · 6 years

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long distance (mileven week)

February 1990, Hawkins, IN

Jane “El” Hopper is the last one out of the library tonight. At first, Marissa had been reluctant to give her the job given she was Hopper’s kid and Marissa didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of the town’s chief, but she took a chance and El is quickly proving herself worthy. She loves being in the library, surrounded by words. She didn’t have them for so long that being somewhere full of words is still a wondrous thing. It probably always will be.

Anyhow, she’s got to lock up before she heads home for dinner, and even though it’s only just after six o’clock, it’s already dark out. It’s as cold as a Midwestern winter usually is, which is to say very cold. El wonders if it’s as cold where Mike is.

She almost drops her keys in the snow as she goes to open the Blazer she’d inherited from Hopper after the station bought a new one (Hopper had helped her repaint it a nice blue so she didn’t have to drive around in a truck with “HAWKINS POLICE” emblazoned across the sides), but she fumbles and catches them. The radio’s playing that one Phil Collins song as she pulls away from the library in the direction of her house.

Hopper’s not coming home until late, El knows he isn’t, but it doesn’t help to make her feel less lonely when she pulls up outside the dark house. It really sucks not having any of her friends in town. They’ve all spread out across the country: Max went back to San Diego, Will and Dustin to New York, Lucas to Seattle, and Mike to Connecticut. God, did it really have to be so far? Sometimes the only thing that keeps her from plunging into “the depths of despair”, as Dustin used to call it, is the fact that she’s going to see him soon.

Max and Lucas are the farthest away, but El has a totally different relationship with them than she does with Mike. Her need to see them and be with them is so much less pressing. That’s why, with Hopper’s help planning, El’s been saving money to take a trip to Connecticut. The thing is, Mike doesn’t know about it. And although it’s very hard to keep a secret from him, El promised herself she wouldn’t give it away.

She’s about to start washing dishes when the phone rings, and she knows exactly who it is. Mike always calls around this time. They usually only speak over the phone once a week because long distance calls are expensive, and even though El could just talk to her boyfriend over the psychic link she can create, she doesn’t like doing that. It’s draining.

They mostly send each other letters but Mike insists he’ll go insane if he can’t listen to her voice, so he calls once every Wednesday.

“Hello?”

El keeps the cordless phone Hopper bought recently hovering by her ear as she starts to wash her plate.

“Hey, El.”

“Hi, Mike.”

“What are you doing?”

El sighs. “Washing dishes. I’m home alone tonight.”

“That sucks. Hopper’s late again?”

“It’s winter. Lots of accidents.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike agrees. “I miss you,” he adds somberly.

El scrubs harshly at a stain on the plate. “Me too. I’m lonely all the time.”

“Valentine’s is next week. I wish I could be there with you, it’ll be our first one we haven’t spent together.”

Mike sounds upset, and it’s this kind of thing that makes El just want to spill her secret surprise plans. She’s going to get there on Valentine’s Day, which is the Wednesday, but she’s got to leave on the Friday because Yale only allows guests for three days.

Which is better than nothing, El supposes, but she wishes it didn’t have to be like this at all.

She hears another voice in the background ask an unintelligible question, to which Mike responds, “My girlfriend, dumbass. I call her every week, you should know this by now.”

The voice laughs and says something else. Mike sighs. “I am so done with you. Can you believe my roommate still doesn’t think you’re real, El?”

El snorts. “You’re on the phone with me, how am I not real?”

“I mean he doesn’t believe the person I’m talking to is my girlfriend. He doesn’t think I could get one. Lack of faith, if you ask me!” He says the last part louder, clearly directed at the other person in the room with him.

El wants to laugh. He’ll be proven wrong next week. “Mike, I think we gotta go. Long distance, remember?”

“Right, right,” he says. “I just posted my letter this afternoon, so hopefully you’ll get it soon. I love you.”

“Love you too. Have a good night.”

There’s a click and Mike is gone. El sighs again and focuses on her dishes. Long distance sucks.

Wednesday morning dawns bright and early. It’s Valentine’s Day and there’ve been paper hearts and lovey-dovey shit stuck everywhere in the buildings on campus for the last few days. They make Mike feel like a middle schooler with no one to be his Valentine again. The only person he’d want to be his Valentine anyway is about 850 miles away, so he’s kind of screwed on that front. He just really misses her. He saw El at Christmas, but it’s been way too long already. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive the rest of college with her so far away.

His roommate, Eric, wakes him with a pillow to the face, poking fun at him for not having anyone to go to the off-campus party with later. Mike wasn’t going to go anyway, considering it’s Wednesday, but whatever.

“Where’s your girlfriend now, huh Wheeler?” He teases.

Mike almost wants to punch him in the face. Today’s already going to be shitty, he doesn’t need this. “I told you she’s at home. Can you stop?”

Eric grins. “What was her name again? Eleven?”

Mike groans. “Yes, but she doesn’t like it. We don’t call her that.”

“You totally made that up! Who the fuck names their kid Eleven?” Eric has sat down on his bed again, kicking his feet up into the air.

“It’s a long story that I’m never going to tell you.”

“Yeah, because it doesn’t exist!”

Mike turns over and buries his face in his pillow. “Eric, I swear to god. Just because I only have, like, one picture of her doesn’t mean she’s fake.”

Eric snorts. “The girl’s obviously real, I just don’t think she’s your girlfriend. Girls like that don’t date guys like you, man.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can you leave me alone now?”

“You probably write those letters to yourself, don’t you?”

“Why would I go to all the effort of doing that just to convince you that I have a girlfriend? I don’t care that much about your opinion, you know,” Mike retorts, turning his head to allow himself to breathe and glare at his roommate.

Eric was an okay guy at the beginning of first semester, but Mike had quickly gotten tired of being teased about his apparent singleness. Eric absolutely refused to believe that his nerdy roommate (who also wasn’t exactly conventionally attractive) could possibly be dating someone. Even after being shown the picture of her that Mike always kept in his wallet, and being witness to phone calls between them on more than one occasion, and seeing Mike writing letters, Eric could not and would not be convinced that El was really Mike’s girlfriend.

Mike thinks it might be because the fact that they’ve been dating since they were thirteen is kind of surreal, even to him sometimes. Especially to someone like Eric, who goes through girls like nobody’s business. Mike has seen him “date” five girls since they started school in September.

Eric narrows his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen people do the weirdest shit just because they’re embarrassed about something. You know, I haven’t wanted to say this, but I suspected it from the beginning. You just don’t want to admit you came to college a virgin, right? ‘Cause I’d be embarrassed if I were you.”

And he’s crossed the line. “Eric,” Mike says, finally sitting up, looking crazed with his hair sticking up every which way, “I literally could not give less of a fuck what you think about my virginity. It’s not any of your business, nor is it anyone else’s.”

Eric’s still looking at Mike as he gets out of bed. He shoves on the first shirt he sees and aggressively pulls on a pair of socks, not changing out of his pyjama pants. He only has one class today anyway, and he’ll have time to come back and change before he goes to work.

“Listen, man, I’m sorry if that offended you, I just think you might be going a little too far with this whole charade,” says Eric quickly. And wow, Mike just loves when Eric pretends to be concerned about him. He can’t fucking wait for next year so he can get a new roommate who is hopefully better than this one.

He can feel the anger rising and has to take several deep breaths in order to not blow up. Come on, Mike, you’re better than this… Mike grabs his key and shoves it in his backpack along with his wallet and the binder he needs for his class before rounding on the meathead behind him. “At least I’m not going around messing with girls the way you do. That’s what’s going too far. You treat them like shit and then you just dump them like they’re nothing. They’re people, asshole, and so am I. Watch what you say.”

He wrenches the door open and, noting that there’s no one currently in the hall, turns back to his dumbass roommate. “And for the record, not that it matters, but I’m not a virgin. Thanks for the concern, though.”

Mike makes sure to close the door as threateningly as he can without slamming it too hard. That ought to get the message through.

El decides that if she ever does this again, she’s flying. Driving from Hawkins to New Haven has been so tiring it’s ridiculous. The trip itself takes about thirteen hours, but she stopped every three for breaks, so she’s actually been on the road for closer to about fifteen hours and she’s hated every minute of it since hour four. She left at five in the morning, six in the time zone Connecticut is in, and it’s nearing nine at night. The sole thing that has kept her going all day is that at the end of it all, she’s going to get to surprise Mike.

El knows he works at a bookstore on campus, so she’s going straight there, hoping to arrive before he locks up and leaves. The store closes at nine, after all. But there’s traffic.

After much deliberation and the passage of the nine o’clock hour, El changes course and heads to the residence buildings instead. She doesn’t know which one Mike lives in, or what floor, or which room, but she has something almost like an inner compass that always leads her to him. He’s the magnetic north to her Earth. God, we’re such nerds.

It’s like an actual game of hot and cold, but instead of hot and cold it’s more of a pull. The pull is stronger when she’s close to Mike and weaker the further away she is, but it’s always there if she chooses to pay attention to it. They discovered it playing hide and seek when they were fourteen and have occasionally made use of it since, like now. El follows the pull to an old-looking building and sits inside the Blazer contemplating it before killing the engine.

Inside is much warmer, the yellow lighting casting a cozy glow over the stairwell. There’s a door on the other side leading to the ground floor, but El’s instincts are telling her upstairs is the right way to go. She stops in the third-floor hallway for a second before going left. A door opens and shuts behind her and she hears footsteps make their way to the main door and disappear down the stairs.

Two doors down from the end of the hall, El comes across a door with the names Eric & Mike written on the chalkboard hanging on it and she knows it’s the right one. She can hear muffled voices from inside, but she’s too excited to wait for them to stop talking. The door swings open almost immediately after she knocks, revealing a young man who is decidedly not El’s boyfriend. This must be Eric.

He gives her a sleazy grin. “Hello, pretty lady,” he says, raising an eyebrow in what El’s sure he thinks is an attractive way. In all honesty, it probably would be if El wasn’t strictly Mike-sexual. “What brings you here?”

El doesn’t have time to respond before she hears the most beautiful voice in the world speak instead. “Can you take her to the party with you? Don’t stay here.”

Even when his words are sharp, Mike’s voice is calming. It washes over her like a warm bath, steadying her nerves. She still has a hard time speaking to people she’s not familiar with. El just wishes Mike had already seen her standing there, but he’s rooting around in the closet space by his bed.

She clears her throat lightly and smiles. “I’m actually looking for my boyfriend,” she says, and she sees Mike pause.

Eric shoots a look at his roommate. “You won’t find him here,” he answers, followed by a derisive snort.

El smiles again. “I think I might. Mike?”

At this, Mike removes his head from his closet and turns around, and the look on his face is priceless. He looks so shocked that El almost wants to laugh at him, but she’s also so happy to see him herself that all she can do is allow her face to mold itself into an ear-splitting grin.

“El?” And it’s almost like that night all over again, except without the overwhelming stress of the situation they’d all been in the time. But all the same, El can feel tears build in her eyes and spill down her cheeks as the stupidly huge amount of love she feels for this boy threatens to have her implode on the spot.

She laughs wetly and holds her arms out. “Surprise?”

“Oh my god,” he says, tripping over himself to get to her. When he does, he envelops her in a hug so tight she almost can’t breathe. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

El wraps her arms around Mike just below his shoulders and buries her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of the detergent his mom uses (that he’s taken the habit of using as well to college with him). It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to have him close and be able to hug him like this. Hearing his voice over 850 miles of cables and hearing it in person are two very different things.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Mike asks breathlessly, pulling out of the hug but keeping his hands on her waist. They’re in their own world now, Eric forgotten in the corner.

“I wanted to surprise you for Valentine’s Day,” El replies, and she smiles.

Mike moves his hands to cup her face before he kisses her, and she’s melting. She hasn’t kissed him in two months and it’s like a thirsty man finding water in the desert. She needs this. She needs to be able to touch him and feel that he’s there, to know that he will be there when she needs him, just like she wants to be there when he needs her. That’s what their relationship has been since day one; being there for each other is the basis of how they care for one another.

El pulls away when she’s out of breath, her lips aching to be back against Mike’s, but she remembers that someone else is in the room. Eric is standing awkwardly behind Mike with wide eyes.

El smirks. “Do you believe him yet?”

Eric’s mouth works but words don’t come out. Must be quite a shock, then.

Mike wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the room, falling back onto his bed with a thump. “You can leave now, Eric. Have fun at the party,” he says, and then he does a sarcastic little wave and Eric quickly walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

A sigh escapes Mike. “Fuck him, ugh,” he remarks. “This morning he accused me of making you up because I didn’t want to admit that I’m a virgin. Which I haven’t even been in like, over a year, but okay, I guess.”

El wrinkles her nose and cuddles up to Mike’s side. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, Eric’s just a fuckwad who doesn’t understand when things don’t go the way he thinks they should.”

Mike leaves a feather-light kiss on the tip of El’s nose and smiles lovingly when he looks at her again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here. How long are you staying?”

A yawn forces its way out of her. “Friday, ‘cause you said if I ever visited it could only be three days. My stuff is in the Blazer, I was trying to get to the bookstore before you finished work but there was traffic so I just came here instead.”

“Well,” says Mike, a yawn escaping him as well, “I need to go take a shower, but you can just stay here, you’re probably dead tired.”

El nods. “Driving all day.”

He kisses her again, more intimate than by the door because Eric had still been in the room, but still just so simple and beautifully amazing that El can’t help but sigh and chase after his face with her own when he moves away. She doesn’t catch him, though, because he gets up.

“Where’re your keys?” Mike asks. “I’ll go out to the truck and get your stuff when I’m done showering.”

“Here,” she answers, pulling them out of her back pocket and throwing them for him to catch as she sits up and removes her coat.

“Okay,” says Mike, sweeping his stuff and her keys into a towel and wrapping it all up, “I’ll be back soon. You can go to sleep.”

He’s about to go into the hall when El calls him back.

“What?”

“...can I just have one more kiss?”

Mike rolls his eyes but walks back over to her and grants her wish. The press of his warm and familiar lips against her own is gratifying after so long without it. “I love you so much,” he says. “But I need to shower and you need to sleep.”

El pouts. “Okay.”

Mike frowns. “Don’t give me that face, it’s making me want to kiss you more.”

She grins. “I’m not complaining.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. Go to sleep. ”

“Fine, dad.”

El lies down and tucks herself under the covers of his bed, watching as he waits to make sure she’s alright before flipping the light switch and heading out.

“I love you,” she whispers through the dark.

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back.

“Love you more.”

“Oh my god, El, not this again!”

“But it’s true!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“We love each other equally!”

“Do we, though?”

“You know what? This isn’t happening. Good night.”

#MilevenWeek2018 #mileven #mileven fanfiction #mileven week #long distance #mike wheeler #eleven #jane hopper #el hopper #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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