#elmax angst

[itswhatyougive]

I wonder if El is miserable that she can't go and see Max like everyone else. Or is she secretly glad she has an excuse not to because she can't stand the guilt and pain of seeing her like that?

[foodiewithdahoodie]

for the fic prompt thing:

elmax, post s3 and it’s called “take care of u for me”

It takes place in between s3 and s4. Max and El send each other letters. They don’t call (cus the government or smth) and Max only really opens up to El about what she’s feeling. Not ever fully. I think it would be cool to explore how El feels about mike vs max and what she does because of those feelings. the same with max.

and at the end instead of getting together (like u would expect) they don’t. Max pulls away do to her depression and guilt. El is left with questions and feels abandoned. So instead of embracing her true self she runs back to mike.

so basically lesbian El and Bi Max + angst. (the perfect story tbh) u can change things if u want. I just think this would be rly cool!

take care of u for me (Elmax)

The First Letter

El isn't used to change. At least, not the big kinds of change. Like the ones that seem to pull the rug from under her feet, her balance completely lost, and suddenly she's in a never-ending freefall with her stomach in knots, anticipating for when she crash lands into the cold hard ground, flattened like a pancake, but it doesn't happen yet. She keeps falling and falling, waiting and waiting, dreading and dreading, and unlike the movies she's watched in the Wheeler basement where intense scenes can get paused, re-winded, or even skipped altogether, El Hopper's just trapped in this bleak loop of falling, where the beginning and ending don't matter, just her suffering does at the current moment. She hates it very much, how the more she learns, the more she knows nothing at all, the more confusion piles up in her head and heart, but the letters from Mike and Max keeps her going. Especially the ones from Max, those are a lifesaver.

Sweet Max, who decorates her letters in cheap fruit scented stickers and strategically placed glitter, and silly amateur doodles in the corners/margins of the paper. She knows how much El enjoys girly things. With each envelope from Max, El feels like she's opening up a precious gift handled with care, made with care. It's such a stark contrast to what Mike sends her. Ripped notebook paper with the fringed edges still tacked on, as if writing his girlfriend was a haphazard afterthought, a forgotten chore perhaps, and of course the most glaring offense when she's done reading his words; From, Mike. Stop comparing them - warns her inner voice.

El holds the two distinctly separate pieces of paper in her hands. Max's in her left. Mike's in her right. Her big brown eyes are soft and endearing at Max's, which she puts in a drawer for safekeeping, along with Dustin's and Lucas's randomly recorded updates on life in Hawkins. Turning her eyes onto Mike's, she squints suspiciously, disappointment blooming, a pout setting in. Still, despite all her feelings regarding her boyfriend's lack of delicacy, she remains a perfect girlfriend, and places his letter in the mini shrine she crafted with her bare hands (she'd spent a week tops making it flawless, more time on that than rearranging her room's furniture).

El has to mentally scold herself again as she re-folds Mike's messy, ugly letter - Don't compare them.

If she doesn't constantly remind, then she'll be thinking too much about Max again. A habit she can't afford to indulge because Max has Lucas and El has... SHE HAS... Mike. Yes, she has Mike, who loves her. He said so himself this past summer. He said it without her asking him to. Much better than in the movies. Right? She doesn't dwell on it for too long, why being told the three magic words sort of haunt her in an unpleasant way.

The Fifth Letter

El knows exactly what time the mailman runs in her Lenora Hills neighborhood. It's always 7:45 AM. The bulky square-shaped truck parks two lawns down the block from her unfamiliar West Coast home that pales to Hopper's cozy cabin. El's already up for the day, dressed for the day, and usually struggling to figure out what's trendy and what's not, so she can make friends at school easy. Particularly friends that are girls. If California's where Max is from, born and raised, and Max is super cool and kind, then El should have no problems connecting with her female peers if they're all like Max. They're not like Max. In fact, they're far from Max's open arms and warm smile. These girls are cutthroat and fake and devious. None of the sincerity that Max exudes. It throws El severely off her game when Angela singles her out as the next line of prey to hunt for sport. Within a few hours on her first day as a freshmen, El's labeled a pariah, and a main target of the popular girls that're stupidly pretty like Max but act manipulative just like Papa. It hugely perplexes and dismays her.

She expects Joyce to hand her a letter from both Mike and Max once the mailman leaves their doorstep. Except, only Max's letter is delivered promptly. El's too busy eagerly unsealing it to notice that if she were to count correctly, in the last few weeks, Mike isn't consistently writing her as much as Max is. This is starting to become a pattern between El's boyfriend and best friend, where Max does maximum and Mike does minimum.

"Dear El, what's new?" She prefers to read Max's letters aloud to herself, unable to contain her ear-to-ear grin. El even mimics Max's tone of voice when she does it. As she continues reading, though, her grin falters and eventually, concern paints her face, eyes scanning the words on each line carefully.

Max and Lucas aren't talking.

El has mixed feelings about that tidbit of information. She doesn't understand why that excites and saddens her. According to the letter, it's Max who's wearing the pants here and calling the shots, she's the one distancing herself from Lucas to "think about stuff" and "take her time". It's purposely written to be vague. That's fine. El doesn't need the minute details. She's honored, actually, that Max even specifically told her because neither Mike, Lucas, or Dustin mentioned it in their letters. El would ask Will if he knew anything, but lately Will gets an eerie unreadable look in his eyes whenever she gets mail from the entire Party, while Will gets mail from everyone sans Mike.

Sitting down at her bedroom desk, El decides to divulge to Max some of her own truths about how Lenora's been. It doesn't occur to El that she's telling Max things Mike's never ever going to get out of her willingly. She isn't comfortable letting Mike know that part of her, where she's powerless to fend off teenage girls' scorn, when she used to close interdimensional gates with a simple gesture of her hand and break a bully's arm without strain. He just wouldn't get it, she reasons with a shrug. Max would get it, though - a devil on her shoulder whispers in her ear.

Soon El runs out paper and the ink in her pen has dried up. She realizes too late that she should edit some poignant events that expose a lot of her real troubles, stealing a fresh clean paper from Joyce's home office, and instead tastefully begging Max to give her advice on how to properly grieve the dead, Hopper's ghost plaguing her mind every time she blinks. Angela's mocking doesn't deserve any space in Max's mind, so she omits it completely. El doesn't want to worry Max with her dumb drama.

The Fourteenth Letter

Mike's letters keep saying From Mike. It's irritating El gravely. Max's letters are also cagey, less descriptive with shorter paragraphs. El doesn't know which one stings worse from the two closest people she's met in her life (that're still alive and not causalities). She reviews past letters sent from Max, how initially they were so immersive, imprinting on each wrinkle of her brain, rivaling the fun young adult novels stacked on El's desk that hooked her to reading loads, absorbing each sentence like scripture. Now, Max's letters were clearly getting more infrequent and spotty in expression. Oh, yeah, she isn't dating Lucas anymore.

El wishes she could use the phone and hear Max's lulling voice to get more facts. Ask her what's wrong. Why isn't she writing her like she used to? Why'd she "dumped his ass"? If Max hadn't moved from her old house to the trailer park before summer ended, then El would give her a ring in a heartbeat, and risk alerting the government just for her and her only. The Party must've suspected she'd do something reckless like that, so did Max it seems, because El doesn't know the new number of the Mayfield's. Neither Will or Joyce will tell her.

El writes lies to Mike. El writes half-truths to Max. To both Mike and Max, El tells the honest truth, that she misses them, wants to see them, and they should visit Lenora soon. She absentmindedly writes Love, El in both letters to her special people and gives pause, goes silent. She scratches out the Love and replaces it with From in Max's letter, even if it doesn't sit right with her spirit to do that. She feels like she loves Max just as much as she loves Mike, but, how would that work? El scrunches her face, anger sprouting. She's lying to herself, now?! That's what happens when one practices lying too much, one starts to believe them as real.

El doesn't love Max just as much as she loves Mike. She might love Max a tad more! That's normal, to favor the company of a best friend over the person one's dating. Mike does it to her with Will. Always bringing her "brother's" name up in letters without coaxing. Trying to get news about Will through her when Mike can just call the housephone if he wants to know so doggone bad. What's the difference if she does it back? Favor Max in the same way Mike favors Will?

No harm done, really.

The Sevententh Letter

Max knows better. She knows what it's like being alone, and scared, and moving some place faraway with the world going against you. She knows she should write El more, stop avoiding Lucas, talk to her freaking guidance counselor. At first, when she sends off her letters to Will and El, she's relieved that the archaic form of communication is still relevant. Max's social meter is at an all time low. She hasn't been hanging out with the Party, actively ducking and dodging them whenever she sees the boys searching for her in the halls. She pockets the notes Lucas leaves in her locker, asking if she wants to go to the movies this weekend, and cranks the volume of Kate Bush's singing so high her Walkman drowns the white noise stalking her.

Max knows better. She quietly pines to be with the Party, misses Will, wishes El was in her bedroom dancing and flipping through magazines as they laugh about happy screams. Max can't find the strength, the energy to speak genuinely about how she's at her breaking point. Writing helps. Writing letters to Will and El are easy. Even though their absence is felt in Hawkins and the distance is torture, Will and El are far enough that Max feels safe about spilling some of her guts without fear of judgment. Out of the Party; Will, El, and Max, are the best at keeping secrets. Children formerly in the care of violent adults are pros at that sort of stuff, unfortunately.

Max's confident El can read between the lines. Read that Max is doing very unwell. She only confides in Will that she's sick of high school already, and they joke about how shitty the other's home state is ("Cali's too vapid/Indiana's too hillbilly"), in order to distract themselves from the the growing pains crushing them. With El, Max is more vulnerable, and baring her soul in ambiguous, almost poetic, scribbling. In turn, El also confesses to Max about her own grief about how things went down at Starcourt. It's comforting, to know that El's just like her, she's craving direction just like Max. To finally be seen and heard. Both girls are yelling for help, but no one notices. They're invisible to others, but not to each other.

The Twentieth Letter

She's broken up with Lucas and this time, Max doesn't think they'll be reconciling anytime soon. Popping ibuprofen like candy to stave off the incoming headaches, no doubt from lack of sleep, Max only cracks a big smile these days when getting mail from El. She clocks instantly that El's doodles of rainbows are getting more intricate at the bottom of the page. If she sniffs the envelope, Max can still smell the faint trace of El's citrusy perfume, the one Max recommended she get because of how potent and long-lasting it is.

This month, Max has only sent one letter to El, while El has sent her at least three, four pages long to boot! Max thumbs the weathered letter, debating if she's in too deep. El's read between the lines too well, and is asking about Max's... asking how Max is feeling. To be frank, Max doesn't really know how to respond. Besides the guidance counselor, neither Lucas nor Max's own mother, has checked in with her emotionally. It's effortless to ignore the guidance counselor. It's nearly impossible to ignore El. Key word: nearly.

Max stops writing El, cold turkey.

El doesn't get the memo, or doesn't care, because she's still writing Max like nothing's changed. Max read every single one, re-reads it to the point she can say it by heart, like she's been practicing a monologue for theater. El tells her about Joyce, Jonathan, and Will. Tells her how the Lenora girls aren't friendly (Max fills in the blanks and feels irrational protectiveness bathe her at El's unaddressed mistreatment). She even ended this letter with a Love, El and Max wrongfully assumes it's a mistake written in haste.

Perhaps, she's weak, because Max grabs a pen and gets to writing El with renewed vigor. Definitely not because of that Love, El. Nope. Though, it's been a while since someone close to Max has told her she's loved by them. Lucas is off with the jocks most of the time, and Max's mom is never sober or present mentally. She gets so caught up in replying to El's letter, that when she's done, Max folds it up prim and pristine and seals it with a kiss. Loud enough her lips make a smacking noise.

She freezes. On instinct, without second thought, Max subconsciously imagined kissing El and used the letter by proxy. That's an issue that strikes her core. Max shouldn't think of El like that. Not when Lucas has been leaving notes, and offering her free tickets to the basketball games, and shooting her pleading puppy dog eyes to talk to him. Max said she wanted space and Lucas was respecting that. He's still loyal to her when she can't return the same tenacity. Not in this state of guilt, of depression that swamps her personhood unforgivingly. It's unfair to both Lucas and El, that they're putting the work to maintain any semblance of a healthy relationship with her, and Max is hesitant to reciprocate even a fraction.

She rewrites the letter. Tells El they shouldn't do this anymore. It's just a lot going on and they should focus on surviving freshmen year. Very formally, Max lists off generic tips of self-care, the same ones the guidance counselor sterilely advised her; eat plenty vegetables, drink water, sleep 8 hours. Hypocrite, she thinks, because the redhead has never once practiced what she's preaching to El in written word. Max doesn't send her anymore letters. El slowly stops sending them too, getting the message, finally.

"It's fine." Max tries to reassure herself. "I'd just drag them down anyways. It's fine." She recites like a mantra, in a shaky voice with watery eyes, two piles of paper on either side of her, begging to get replies. The unanswered notes from Lucas and the semi-answered letters from El.

Kate Bush is on repeat. She's running out of ibuprofen. Her nose is bleeding again. She replays this past summer memories in her head, the good and bad. Max can't stand how lonely she is, but she's strongly deluded herself. Her thoughts an echo chamber.

She knows better, but she doesn't feel like she deserves better. She knows better, knows she's the worst.

The Last Letter

El clenches the letter in her hands, knuckles white, veins popping. She stomps out of her room to barge into Will's.

"Did you get a letter from Max?" She bluntly questions, biting down the urge to cry.

Will curls a brow, sketching on hold. "No. We don't send letters anymore." That placates El's bursting frustration. "She said it'd be best if we just talk on the phone once a week, instead." And there it is, abandonment rearing its ugly head to shatter any stability El has fostered.

"Oh." She returns to her room, locking her door, and blubbers while crouching to the floor, a hand pressed to her aching heart.

Max knows she's not allowed to use the phone. Max knows El can only get-by with letters. She doesn't have the privilege like Will does to get weekly calls. El was banking on these letters from Max, along with the ones from Mike, to cope with all the stress. She thought they're best friends. Max is the first friend El ever made without Mike's involvement. Max accepted her despite El not being nice to her during first impressions. So, what is this then? What are they if they can't send letters? Did El spook her off somehow?

She should've lied to Max like she does with Mike. She knew this would happen. When you tell the truth, even half-truths, people leave and reject. El quiets her tears, regards her Mike-shrine, and concentrates on the Valentine's Day card, the photos of them at Snowball, and the supposed love letters from her boyfriend. Her pupils are blown, feral in appearance, and she feels a shift in her brain as she goes into a trance. The shift ticks until it ultimately clicks in place.

El had forgotten herself. She has to go back to her roots. When things were simple and made sense. Before Max ruined her life with knowledge and imagination. She couldn't go too far back because Papa and Hopper and Benny were gone for good. The Byers, bless them, can't satisfy the hole in her chest, fill the emptiness Max left (unintentionally or not). El needs something reliable and secure and unchanging. Mike checks off all the boxes.

She stops writing Dustin and Lucas. She only focuses on writing Mike. El stops wearing the citrusy perfume Max suggested for her. She tries not to think about Max's wellbeing or ask Will what they talk about on the phone.

She just waits for the mailman at 7:45 AM and pretends the fringed edges of Mike's letters are charming. She doesn't wonder if the Love, El (last thing she wrote Max) was what drove her best friend away.

Despite it all, El wishes Max well, forever and always, with love.

____

Thanks for letting me post my first try at an elmax fic! I usually keep my writing for them to myself, but hope you liked it 🥰

[elevenmayfieldz]

little wip of 'sorry i miss you too much' (this is all i have written i want to write the bad part so bad but i CANT) (prompt by @elmaxjunkie)

Max hadn't responded to El's calls.

It had been two weeks and there was only silence from Max. El didn't know what she was supposed to think. She'd always hated being avoided.

El stood against the wall, waiting for Will to come out of the kitchen. She felt like crying. When Will walked out and asked her what was wrong, she could barely hold it together. Tears fell from her eyes as she sobbed, sliding down the wall, fully breaking down.

"El, what's going on?" Will asked, putting an arm around her and trying to get her to calm down.

"It's Max… I don't think she loves me anymore."

[spring-picnics]

Max confronting Angela • elmax

Max beating someone up and then El and Max living their best life. (Au where they aren’t living their worst lives)

300 words

Eleven has never seen Max angrier.

When El called her about Angela, she only heard one version of her girlfriend: sweet, calm and understanding. When El is forced to introduce Max to Angela, she sees a version of her girlfriend that is truly frightening to everyone except for her.

For the first time in months, all of Max’s hair is tied up. Her eyes aren’t the usual calm blue sea that El knows, but are instead icy and cold. Max is putting her sleeves and calmly walking over to Angela and her group.

Eleven can see Max sarcastically laugh and say something to Angela, before launching her fist straight into Angela’s face. Angela has fallen on the ground and is reaching up for her (broken) nose while trying not to cry, while the rest of her friends either try to console her or are trying to win against Max.

When Will and Mike finally get Max to stop, she is shouting at the group. Most of them are crying and a few bystanders are confused as to how she managed to take all of them down.

“I swear to god, if any of you assholes lay a finger on her, I will fucking come for you. Do you understand?”

There is blood on her knuckles and Jonathan and Argyle are dragging her back into the van.

The car ride is mostly silent, except for El wiping Max’s knuckles and taking care of her. When they finally get back to the byer’s residence, Max and El decide to spend the rest of the day watching some of El’s favourite movies and eating the snacks that Max packed in her suitcase.

The bullies never come up again, except for right before Max and El go to sleep; “Thanks Max, for being someone to trust,” El whispers with a soft smile.

@spring-picnics

[bimaxmayfield]

I trust you {Elmax}

Summary: Max and Eleven go over some scars they have over their bodies

Warnings: (Heavy) Mentions of self-harm and people hurting El. Bad writing and a lot of dialogue

A/N: please note my first language isn’t English so there could be spelling mistakes

------------

“Where did you get this?”

“Oh I got it when I fell out of a tree when I was younger,” Max said as if it was nothing. Eleven inspected the scar on Max’s shoulder.

“Looks like it hurt a lot,” she said.

“Oh it did,” Max said, “My mom and I had to go to the hospital.”

Max and Eleven had talked many times about the fact that they had scars, Max mostly from doing stupid stuff as a child, Eleven from the lab, but they had never actually talked about it. So know they were in Eleven’s room inspecting all the scars they had and sharing the stories behind them.

“I think I have one on my back from falling from my skateboard,” Max said and she lifted her shirt a little just enough for Eleven to see it. It wasn’t a big one, but it was visible.

“How many do you have from falling?”  Eleven asked.

“Too many,” Max said and she turned around again, “Okay now you.”

Eleven lifted her shirt to show a few tiny scars on her lower arm. “They did this to me at the lab when I didn’t do something good,” She explained, “But these were mild, I have worse ones.”

“Jesus, El,” Max said, “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone,” Eleven said, “But I trust you.” Max felt tears in her eyes as she went over her girlfriend's arm and felt the little bumps. She had always assumed El had hurt herself, not that they had hurt her.

“This was a bad idea,” Eleven then says and Max looks at her, “I’m sorry, I should have never told.”

“I have them too,” Max then says and Eleven looks at her, “Billy used to hurt me with words so I hurt myself.”

“Max,” Eleven says quietly.

“I trust you El,” Max says, “I trust you to know that I used too, I don’t anymore. Because you and Lucas, Dustin, Will, and Mike showed me that I didn’t need to. Billy’s words weren’t true.” The two girls stayed silent for a while before Eleven reached over and hugged Max tightly.

“Promise me that you’ll never do it again,” She says, “Promise me.”

“I promise”

[elevenmayfieldz]

hi !! i just posted 'sorry i miss you too much' so go check it out here! (prompt by @elmaxjunkie)

[elevenmayfieldz]

little wip from 'sorry i miss you too much!!' (this is part of the bad part i hope you all cry (affectionate)) (prompt by @elmaxjunkie)

"I love you too." Max said, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall. "But I can't keep hurting you."

El didn't hear the rest of the sentence because she was already gone, bolting from Max's room out into the rain. She didn't look where she was going, just ran because she had to get out of there.

El was the monster. She hurt Max and she made Max leave her and she was so annoying. No wonder Max broke up with her.

"El, wait!" Max called.

[elevenmayfieldz]

hi! i just posted 'almost losing you' so go check it out here! leave a comment/reblog if you liked it :) prompt by @elmaxjunkie !