#Jim Hopper angst

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader • Jealousy, angst, posessive Hopper • Hopper has a corruption kink and some dark fantasies about reader

PART TWO

Chief Jim Hopper knew he had a problem; several, in fact. There was his moderate abuse of alcohol which bordered on severe, especially under times of heightened stress (which to be fair, seemed like most of the time these days). Then there was his pill addiction, the ones he found himself leaning on throughout the day when the effects of the previous night’s alcohol had worn off. But the problem Hopper had that bothered him the most, perhaps, was the one that involved YOU…

He was absolutely, unequivocally in lust with you. Every time Hopper saw you, the limited bit of feminism he’d learned over the years flew right out the window. He wanted you, and not in a pretty way, or any way that implied romance, flowers, dating, none of that. He wanted you carnally, in a way that almost frightened him because of the strength behind it.

Hopper knew he could control himself, at least physically. He wasn’t worried about that, wasn’t concerned that he’d hurt you. But mentally…he was out of control. The fantasies that filled his mind involving you were beyond pornographic; they were sinful. Everything sweet about you, everything pure, Hopper wanted to corrupt.

As the station’s new secretary, he saw you daily, heard your voice chatting on the phone and with your co-workers. And fuck, how he wanted you. He wanted to know if your pretty face would still look so sweet, so innocent, with his cum running down it? How distorted would your sweet voice sound with his cock rammed down your throat? Would you still be smiling if his hands were in your hair, yanking it backwards as he stretched your asshole beyond its capacity to take him?

Hopper knew he was sick. And sometimes, when he was alone and drunk, or high, he didn’t fucking care that he was sick. He didn’t mind being a monster, in those moments with his hand around his cock, lying on his back with his eyes closed, imagining your mouth around him instead. Servicing him, seducing him, your pretty eyes on his and only him.

He was your boss, after all. Your superior in every way. How Hopper wished he could take advantage of that superiority, to abuse his position of power as thoroughly as he longed to abuse your throat. It was all fantasy, of course, and therefore safe. A secret indulgence that Hopper took little pride in during sobriety, but that he found himself a slave to when intoxicated. Even at the station, he’d have no choice but to relieve himself in the privacy of his office.

Hearing your voice just outside his door, knowing what you were wearing as he’d seen you when he entered the station that morning, Hopper would lock his door and have his pants undone before he got back to his chair. He’d loosen the top buttons of his shirt, sit back and stroke himself to the sound of your voice beyond the door, hanging on your words, the gentle trill of your laughter. He’d imagine how pretty your moans would sound as he took you from behind, how sweetly you’d whimper as he pumped his cum inside you, then licked you clean.

Hopper would reach for whatever was nearby, usually his emptied coffee cup from that morning, and ejaculate into it. And what a poor substitute for your mouth it was, he’d think, breathless and leaning fully back in his chair, cock still leaking and twitching in his hand. He’d always toss the cup into the trash can and clean himself up, so no one suspected a thing. No one else at the station was aware of his perversions, and that’s how Hopper wanted it to be. He knew that if his secret got out, it would ruin his already faltering reputation within the community. Hawkins was his hometown, and had generally been sympathetic considering his past trauma and choice to return home after the death of his daughter. But this? Combined with the rumors of Hopper’s substance abuse, the fact that he was lusting after the new secretary at least ten years his junior would likely solidify his reputation as a degenerate and render him unfit for duty.

Hopper was lonely, very lonely. It had been months since he’d last had a woman, and even then, it was so casual and boring that it meant nothing to him. He hadn’t even wanted her, truthfully; she was just a wet, willing mouth to suck him off, parked behind The Hideaway bar downtown after they’d both indulged in far too many beers. She’d swallowed his cum, he’d fingered her in the front seat to climax, and that was the end of it. She’d left his car for her own, parked a few feet away, and they’d never seen each other since. She’d tried to get his attention in the weeks after, but Hopper wasn’t interested.

Because a week later, you’d come to work at the station, and Hopper’s world (at least, his internal world) had been flipped upside down. He’d never been more attracted to anyone in his life, never felt such an instinctive, primal yearning for a woman who he literally knew almost nothing about. But really, Hopper would ask himself, did he need to know more? He could see everything he wanted to take from you, from just one look in your direction. That body…those soft pink lips that would look even softer with his cum dripping out of them…Your eyes, beautiful eyes that he needed to see rolled back while gagging on his cock…

Hopper was reaching a breaking point, he feared. Although he knew he’d never hurt you, he needed to. He needed to know what you felt like around his dick, what sounds you’d make taking him. He wondered if you’d ever been with a man as big as him before? Hopper knew he was hung, at least three inches above the average man’s size. He was thick too, and he knew from experience that women appreciate a cock with not only length but girth as well. He knew he could pease you, could do things to your body that no other man ever had, if only you’d allow him. If only, if only, if only…

Hopper was drowning in ‘if only’s.’ One way or another, he would have you. The first step , he decided, was to approach you as a colleague. Not as your boss, necessarily, even though that’s what he was. He needed to be subtle about his approach, so as not to come across as abusing his position of power over you. This needed to go down smoothly, softly, a calculated plan of action that Hopper was dedicated to seeing through, from the beginning to where it ended with his cock buried inside you…

He planned to approach you at the station’s annual ‘Spring Fling,’ a community fundraising event for local charities held every year on the second Saturday in April. Hopper chose this event because it was outside of work, yet as an employee of the Hawkins P.D. you were sure to be there. The days leading up to the Spring Fling were the hardest for Hopper, both figuratively and literally. He’d never had to masturbate so often in his life, finding himself painfully hard through most of the work day just being near you. Thank god for the privacy of his office and the lock on its door. Hopper had begun taking extra coffee in the morning with the excuse that he was more tied than usual, with the actual intent of dumping the coffee out and using the empty cups to cum inside.

He groomed himself as usual the morning of the event, taking slightly longer to adjust himself in the mirror before leaving his trailer. Hopper had been a little self conscious about his weight in recent years, but he was tall and knew that his height worked as an advantage for him. Straightening in the mirror, pressing his shoulders back, he met his eyes in his reflection, their deep, intense blue. He was ready.

Hopper planned to make casual, friendly conversation with you, before inviting you to dinner. He’d control his body as best he could, force his eyes not to wander from your eyes to anywhere besides your lips, perhaps, and even then, for the briefest of moments. He needed to seal this deal, to secure your trust (although as Chief of Police and your employer, he was reasonably sure he already had it). No need to get ahead of himself, however, Hopper remembered. It was better to assume you had at least a neutral opinion of him before proceeding, rather than expect your automatic approval.

When he arrived at the Spring Fling, Hopper was surprised to see how just many people had turned out. The event usually drew a big crowd, but the majority of Hawkins seemed to be there this year. It was promising for the charities hoping to earn donations that day, but made Hopper’s effort to spot you in the crowd more difficult. He met up with officers Callahan and Powell, and lingered with them near the stage set up for music to be performed later, hoping that perhaps the trio of them would catch your eye and prompt you to say hello.

When Hopper did see you, he was awestruck. You were, to him, like something divine: an angel dressed in white, your long skirt moving gently in the light April breeze, the neckline low enough to display your breasts but modest enough to keep his mind actively wondering for more. Your hair was pinned up by bright yellow ribbons, tied together at the back of your head to create what looked to Hopper like the crown a princess in a fairytale might wear.

You were so effortlessly elegant, so perfectly innocent, moving through the crowd completely unaware of the effect you were having on Hopper, and likely most of the other men in attendance. Hopper opened his lips to speak as you approached, but was stopped short when he noticed the young man walking alongside you. Hopper hadn’t seen him before, had been so lost in the sight of you that anyone else near you had faded into the background of his vision, blurred by your presence.

The young man smiled and placed his arm around your waist, as if to claim you. Hopper’s jaw tightened; he’d seen this man before. Up close, he was barely a man at all, at least as Hopper perceived. This was a boy, in his early twenties Hopper assumed. Hopper wondered what this boy was doing for you, what he was doing to you, knowing full well that he could do it so much better, regardless of how good this boy was in bed-

“Chief!” you said brightly, pulling Hopper from his vindictive string of thoughts. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe this many people showed up today, isn’t it great?”

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m glad to see such a big turnout.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man with his arm around your waist. “You look beautiful, (y/n),” he said, and you smiled, cheeks going slightly pink. Because of course they did. Of course you blushed easily, because you were so sweet, so soft. And it made Hopper want to absolutely ruin you…

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone slightly sharper than he’d intended. You smiled and looked up at the (admittedly handsome, Hopper conceded) man beside you. “This is Steve, my boyfriend,” you replied, your cheeks going pinker. The young man extended his hand to Hopper for a friendly shake. “Steve Harrington,” he said, his big brown eyes full of a joy that Hopper had only dreamed of ever experiencing. “My mom runs one of the charities participating here today, right over-.” He pointed awkwardly past Hopper, who didn’t bother to look, chuckling slightly. “-Over there,” Steve continued, adding “it’s good to meet you, Chief.”

Hopper studied the boy a moment longer, committing to memory all of the details about him he’d have to pick apart and analyze later. “Likewise,” Hopper lied, taking Steve’s hand and squeezing harder than he needed. Steve’s eyebrows rose but his smile remained polite. “Well uh, (y/n) tells me a lot about her new job,” Steve said, his tone pleasant as ever. Hopper’s eyes shifted back to you. “Does she?” he asked, and you smiled up at Steve.

“I tell him what I can,” you teased. “But not all the details; I can’t give away too much information about everything that goes on at the station-.” You playfully patted Hopper’s arm, and he swallowed. “-You know,” you continued. “Official police business and all that…”

Hopper knew you only were being friendly, but his paranoia made him wonder exactly how much you knew about what went on at the station? Specifically, his daily masturbation when you were just outside his door? Hopper forced the possibility away, refusing to entertain it. If you knew about it, you probably wouldn’t be so friendly towards him right now, or anytime for that matter. You’d probably think your boss was a pervert (and that’s exactly what Hopper knew he was) never speaking to him again unless you had to. You were too sweet, too innocent, to ever condone such carnal, almost animalistic behavior from a man, surely. At least, that’s what Hopper had always assumed. It’s why he wanted to test how far he could soil such a pretty little flower, to pluck every petal and see what you were capable of underneath?

“Only good things,” Steve assured Hopper. He nodded politely. “Well that’s good to hear,” Hopper said, but he wasn’t looking at Steve; he was looking at you. “(Y/N) is a real asset to the station. We’re lucky to have her.”

Steve smiled down at you warmly. “Me too,” he murmured, and you leaned into each other for a quick kiss. Hopper felt his blood boiling.

You noticed the odd look on the Chief’s face, and felt slightly embarrassed. Even though you weren’t at work, and in a casual setting, you worried maybe it was still unprofessional to give your boyfriend a kiss in this situation? In front of your boss? You were still learning the proper decorum for working at the station, and you hoped your innocent display with Steve hadn’t rubbed Hopper the wrong way. The last thing you wanted to be was unprofessional.

To lighten the mood, you decided to attempt a joke. “I think,” you told Steve, glancing from him to Hopper. “The reason the Chief likes me is because I get him those extra cups of coffee right away every time he asks for them.”

Hopper couldn’t help it; his eyes widened slightly. You were giggling, probably oblivious to the actual weight of what you’d said, but…Hopper’s paranoia lurched in his stomach. What if…what if you did know? He scanned your eyes for any sign of hidden meaning, for any indication that you were on to his behavior behind the office door. But all Hopper saw in your eyes was, as usual, a beautiful innocence that lay waiting to be corrupted…

Steve chimed in with “I’ll bet you need every last drop too, huh Chief?”

Hopper frowned at him, not understanding for a moment before he realized Steve was talking about coffee. “With your job, being so stressful, I mean.”

Hopper nodded, realizing that his dislike of Steve Harrington was rapidly shifting to hatred. “Yeah, it’s a job alright,” Hopper muttered in Steve’s direction, still avoiding looking at him.

You noticed a friend of your and Steve’s a few feet away, and waved to them. Steve saw them as well, and you both took a step in their direction. “Gotta go, boss,” you smiled warmly at Hopper. “See you Monday morning.”

Hopper grinned tightly, glancing very briefly at Steve when the younger man took his hand again. “Pleasure to meet ya, Chief,” Steve told him. Hopper didn’t return the sentiment.

The rest of the event dragged on for Hopper monotonously. Although he tried his best to avoid seeking you out in the crowd, he still found himself looking for the yellow ribbons adorning your hair, and the white dress that drifted so gently in the breeze. It was a welcome distraction in a way, having so many people around, speaking to him even though he had no interest in them or their conversation. There was only one person in the crowd that he cared about; and now, he knew that having you would be more of a challenge than ever.

Hopper felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned. He was looking at a woman, and it took him a solid thirty seconds to recognize that she was the woman he’d fucked in his car months ago. “Hello there, Sherrif,” she said with an overly flirtatious drawl, her voice and demeanor reeking of desperation. She slid her hand down Hopper’s arm, and he watched it, noting the harsh, tacky shade of her nail polish. He knew that you would never wear such a color. You kept your nails neat and pretty, painted in soft pastels like the flowers in your hair.

Hopper hated this woman’s hand on him. He hated the way her neon pink lipstick had transferred onto her teeth as she smiled up at him, waiting for validation. Hopper wondered how long it would take to wash that disgusting pink lipstick off his dick later? He smiled back at the woman, watching her light up at his attention, that he remembered her. There was nothing in this for Hopper, he realized, besides a quick fix to a problem only your body, your mouth, could solve for him.

He looked past the woman briefly just in time to see you and Steve leaving the event together, hardly able to keep your hands off each other. It was all the motivation Hopper needed to make yet another bad decision; and so he took the woman’s hand in his, and asked her a question he already knew the answer to: “What’re you doing tonight?”

[ddejavvu]

Plain Old Man - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Jim can't figure out why you love him. After all, isn't he just a plain old man?

Contents/Warnings: hop's self-conscious :(, consensual + legal age gap, fem!reader

requested: hopper x younger really feminine reader. he think she’s the cutest thing ever and that she’s too good for him so he’s kind of upset, but she figures it out and sits on his lap and kissing all over his body </333 // slightly deviated from, but i hope you still enjoy it!

WC: 1.47K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You love Fridays, because when Jim swings by the pizza place for your dinner, he stops into the boutique next door, and always brings you something. Last week it was a pair of dangly earrings, shimmery and green in the shapes of fairy wings. The week before that it was a silver necklace with a pearl charm, to match a set of earrings he'd gotten before that.

You're buzzing with excitement as you hear his car pull up outside, and you bypass the hand he's balancing the pizza on to wrap your arms around his waist. They interlock behind him and you squeeze, wishing you could latch yourself onto him forever and hang off of him like a sloth.

"Hop!"

"Hey, sweetheart." You feel a kiss placed on the crown of your head, his mustache prickling the skin there, "Let's get inside, okay? Pizza's gonna get cold."

Your nose is, too, so you let him nudge you back inside before it starts to ache.

"I baked us muffins," You inform him, taking the box from his hands and watching him toe off his muddy work shoes by the door, "They're blueberry, but I added that topping over them that you liked last time on the banana ones. It's a little sticky, and kinda clumpy, but it tastes the same!"

He nods through your ramble, eyes lighting up at not only the prospect of muffins but of the special crumble you lay over top. He ushers you into the kitchen, but when you reach for the lid of the pizza box he sets a hand on your waist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he pats the breast pocket of his jacket, and you visibly brighten.

"Oh! Oh," You gush, reaching eagerly for the bag that he hands you, crinkly plastic and purple-tinted, "Thank you, honey."

Your nails pry at the tissue paper that's wrapping whatever present you've gotten, and when you rip the tape away it reveals two barrettes, one pink and one blue. they're beaded, shimmery under the light, and they'll look adorable tucked into your hair.

"Hop," You gush, surging forwards to face-plant into his chest, "I love them! I can use them to twist my hair back like I've been doing lately."

"I know," He nods, leaning forwards to bump his nose into your own, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, "That's why I bought them. I know the pins haven't been holding it."

You'd stolen two worn-out, dented bobby pins from Jim's nightstand, that you're fairly certain he'd used to pick locks with. It concerned you, but he hasn't asked for them back, so you're sure his lock-picking days are behind him.

"Put 'em in!" You urge him, unclipping the barrettes from the card they're on and dumping them into his large, rough hand, "You know how to do it, right?"

"I know how to pull your hair back," He scoffs, sticking one clip between his teeth so that his words muffle as he uses his hands to twist a chunk of your hair away from your face. He pulls it back and secures it with the clip, a snap letting you know it won't fall out.

"Perfect," He praises you (though you think it might be aimed at himself), and pops a kiss to the metal clip.

Your smile is infectious as he uses the other clip on the opposite side of your head, thick fingers twisting your delicate hair carefully. When it's pinned he kisses that side, too, and backs away to look at you head-on.

He smiles, but it's strange. It doesn't fade, per se, but the look in his eyes shifts, and your gut churns with nerves when they seem to be sad.

"Hop?" You tilt your head, watching him try and fail to focus on you instead of whatever's happening in his head, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, pressing a mediocre kiss to your cheek as he rushes for the pizza box behind you, "Yeah, sweetheart. You look real pretty. Let's eat, okay?"

He plates his pizza in silence, so you do too. But it's strange, because he always complains about the cheese not being gooey when he pulls slices apart, and there's not a peep out of him today. Just a downcast glance that tracks his feet all the way to the couch. He typically spreads out, eager to relax after a day of work, but he sits proper, plate on his lap and eyes on the tv.

You reach down to flick it on when you pass, and you sit closer to his side than you normally would. You feel his thigh tense up against your own, and you frown, glancing over at him.

"Jim," You croon, setting your hand cautiously against his thigh, "Are you okay? The truth this time, please."

"Yeah, honey, I.. I don't know." He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly and sighing, "It's fine, really. I like your clips, sweetheart, they look good."

He goes to take another bite of pizza, but you pull it out of his hands just before he can. It means that his teeth clack together instead of meeting the bread, and he looks bewilderedly at you, hand still outstretched.

"Hey," He frowns, "That's my pizza."

"I know it's your pizza," You plop it back onto the plate, setting it on the coffee table and taking its place in his lap, "It'll still be your pizza when you tell me what's bothering you."

He sighs again, and this time you feel it where your hands are braced on his belly. You smooth your hands over it, tracing your thumbs from the dip of his navel out to his sides.

"Tell me, Jim," You plead, "I'm worried about you."

He looks at you for a moment, head-on, eye to eye and face to face, and breaks. He murmurs a gruff 'fuck,' under his breath, head drooping down so that his chin meets his chest.

"Jim," You whine, tucking your fingers under his chin and lifting it so that he can't avoid your eyes, "Just tell me, honey. I need to know."

"You are.." He pauses, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly at you, "Gorgeous. You know that?"

"You tell me all the time," You promise him, shimmying your hips slightly to press your tummy further into his, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I think you're too gorgeous for me. And sweet, and nice, and perfect. I'm a plain old man," He gestures to himself, his beige uniform and scruffy stubble, "That's it."

"You're not a plain old man," You chide him, pinching at the pudge of his belly, "You're the man I love. You know that, don't you? That I love you."

"I'd like to think so," His smile stays sad, "I just can't think of a reason you would."

"Well because- because you're.. you! Jim," Your brows furrow and you lean closer, nose-to-nose, "I love you because of who you are. Not because of any one specific reason, the reason is just you. I love you, Jim Hopper."

His hand cups the back of your neck and pushes you forwards. It's not a kiss, but your lips meet, as do your foreheads as your noses smush together.

"You're too good to me," He murmurs, his voice slightly raspy.

"No," You protest, pecking his lower lip in a sweet smooch, "I could never be too good to you. 'Cause you deserve the best."

"You are cheesy today," He chuckles, but you know it's not an insult as much as it is an observation, "Did those muffins have extra sugar in them? Something's got you all sweet."

"It's you," You grin, knocking your nose into his once more and digging your hands into the soft chub of his belly, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you all day, I wanted to call you a bunch but I didn't wanna bother you."

"You wouldn't bother me," He promises, smoothing a hand down your back, "But it's probably not good to hold up the line at the police station."

"Yeah," You hum sadly, and lean down to tuck your face over his shoulder in a much-needed hug, "It's better when El's here. She keeps me company."

"Speaking of," He glances at the clock, patting your back gently, "We need to go get her soon. Max's mom said she can't stay another night, she's got chores to do."

"Finish your pizza," You clamber off of his lap and rush for your own plate, "Because before she comes back, you're going to make me happy scream."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughs as you settle yourself back against him on the couch, attention finally turned to the television, "We should brush our teeth first, then. I'm not kissing pizza breath."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[parkert01]

Crush - Jim Hopper

You pull up to Hawkins library with Jim, slamming the car door behind you as you rush up the stairs into Hawkins library. Jim is following closely behind you, you walk up to the front desk, she doesn't look at you, her eyes stay focused on Jim as he slowly approaches with an awkward smile on his face. 

"Hey Marissa, how you doing?"

"You got a lot of nerve showing up here"

"What?"

"You could have at least called and said Marissa hey its not going to work out, sorry I wasted your time, I'm a dick"

You laugh as a attempt to cut the tense atmosphere. It doesn't work so you resort to slowly walking away and leaving those two to their conversation "I'm going to find the newspapers and leave you two" you say as you walk away chuckling. 

Jim finds you hunched over a newspaper in the furthest corner of the library. He places his hand on your shoulder but you dont look up at him or smile at him, which you would have normally done, it confused Jim but he ignored it thinking you were just concentrating.

You got up and walked to the bookcases where the newspaper were leaving Jim shocked that you would just ignore him.  He decided to follow you and confront you about it. He spun you around and trapped you, you back firmly against the bookcase and his arms planted firmly by your face, preventing your escape. 

"What's wrong"

"Nothing is wrong Jim"

"Tell me"

You shook your head and asking him "Why did you date her". He was confused by your question and asked "What do you mean".

"Well am I that bad you cant see me? I've liked you for a long time but I've had to watch you date women who dont look anything like me".

"Darling - " 

"I understand Jim. I'm not your type which hurts but I've accepted that I'm not your type. Just give me some time and I will get over you and we can go back to what we used to be".

"I dont want to

You looked at him confused and whispered "what?"

"I said I didn't want that. I dont want you to get over me" he replied while slowly leaning down.

You took that as a cue to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down, meeting his lips, one of his hands goes to you waist while the other goes to your cheek, pulling you incredibly close. 

[little-annie]

Some Hopper Whump anyone?

Five needles piercing into your skin a thousand times a minute doesn't hurt so much when you're numb.

Not numb from creams or lotions or sprays, but from loss.

From watching one little girl succumb to an illness you caused. Brought on to her by your own personal neglect and negligence.

A tactic of war.

Agent Orange didn't sound so bad in the 70s. Boots on the ground and jungle brush around him.

He was told then that's what had to be done. The Jim Hopper of 18 years old.

Now though, he knows many families have faced the same fate as his own.

Loss.

Loneliness.

Regret and numbness.

In the sterile vinyl chair at a random tattoo shop one state over, he thinks too of second chances.

And how he enviably failed that one all on his own.

They'll have laid El to rest one day past tomorrow.

Tucked her into a casket, letters and photos of those she loved around her, Sunflowers and Daisies above.

Flowers the same as he set upon hers and Sarah's graves no more than three hours ago.

He'll never forget them. His girls, and the parts of his heart and soul that they carry.

[vilentia]

Finding Love at the Diner

Jim Hopper x reader

Summary: Can Jim overcome his past trauma and insecurities to pursue a new relationship, or will his fear of vulnerability hold him back?

***

Jim Hopper and you have known each other for a while, often seeing each other at the diner and exchanging pleasantries. However, tonight is different. Jim walks into the diner after a stressful day at work and locks eyes with you, feeling a strong connection that he's never felt before.

Despite his attraction, Jim hesitates to approach you, feeling insecure about his past and unsure of how to express his feelings. He's been hurt before and doesn't want to put himself in a vulnerable position again. Jim worries that his past trauma will prevent him from having a healthy relationship and that he's not good enough for you.

You see Jim looking hesitant, standing by the door, and invite him over to sit at your booth.

"Hey Jim, what's up? You look like you've had a long day," you say, giving Jim a friendly smile.

Jim feels relieved that you've noticed him and welcomed him over, and he relaxes into the booth. "Yeah, it's been a rough one. Thanks for noticing," he replies, feeling grateful for the invitation.

The two of you start chatting and laughing, and Jim can feel his guard slowly coming down. He finds himself opening up to you, sharing things he's never told anyone before.

"I used to come to this diner a lot with my daughter before she passed away. It's tough being here without her, but something about this place always makes me feel a little better," Jim shares, feeling a little emotional.

You listen with empathy, and you share your own stories of loss and grief. Jim feels a deep connection to you, and as the night goes on, you start talking about your dreams for the future.

"You know, I've always wanted to take a road trip across the country. Just me and someone I care about, seeing all the sights and having new experiences," Jim says, looking wistful.

You nod, feeling the same way. "I've always wanted to try skydiving. I know it's scary, but I think it would be exhilarating," you reply, smiling.

As the night comes to a close, Jim musters up the courage to ask you out on a date. "Hey, would you want to grab dinner with me sometime? I know a great little diner a few towns over. It's nothing fancy, but the milkshakes are out of this world," he says, feeling a little nervous.

You smile and nod, "I would love to, Jim. It sounds like a great time."

The night of the date arrives, and Jim is a bundle of nerves as he picks you up at your house. He's gone all out to make the night special, dressed in his best clothes and bought a small bouquet of flowers.

"Hey, you look beautiful," Jim says, his voice low and warm as he takes in the sight of you.

You blush, feeling shy yet excited. "Thanks, you look great too," you reply, taking in Jim's handsome appearance.

You drive to the cozy diner Jim had mentioned, and as soon as you walk in, Jim feels the tension release from his body. The diner is small and cozy, with a jukebox playing oldies tunes and a menu full of classic American fare.

As the night goes on, you both relax and open up to each other, talking about your past and your hopes for the future. Jim shares his fears and insecurities about his past and his worries about being in a relationship again.

"I don't want to hurt you or be hurt again, you know? I feel like I'm damaged goods sometimes," Jim admits, feeling vulnerable.

You listen with empathy, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I understand, Jim. We've all been hurt before, but that doesn't mean we can't try again. I believe in second chances," you reply, looking into Jim's eyes.

Jim feels a warmth spreading through his chest, and he leans in for a sweet kiss. You both feel the spark of something new and exciting between you, and as you part, Jim feels happy and hopeful for what's to come.

The night ends with you both walking to the car, hand in hand, and sharing one more tender kiss. You both know that this is just the beginning, and you feel excited for what's to come.

Over the next few weeks, Jim and your relationship blossoms, and you start dating more frequently, often going to the diner you had your first date. You continue to share your stories and dreams, building a deep connection.

Jim still struggles with his past trauma, but you are patient and supportive, always there to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on. You enjoy many fun and romantic dates, such as stargazing, picnics, and even a weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods.

One day, Jim and you are sitting at the diner when Jim suddenly looks up at you with a shy yet determined look on his face. "Hey, I know we've only been dating for a few weeks, but I just have to say this... I love you," Jim says, feeling his heart in his throat.

Your face lights up with happiness, and you reply, "I love you too, Jim. I've been wanting to say it for a while."

You share a sweet kiss, knowing that you're both ready for the next step in your relationship. You start to make plans for the future, like moving in together and even talking about marriage.

Months later, Jim and you are living together, happy and in love. You have built a life together, filled with love and laughter. Jim's insecurities have faded away, and he finally feels like he's found his place in the world with you by his side.

As you lay in bed, cuddled up together, Jim looks over at you and takes your hand. "I know I've said it before, but I just have to say it again... I love you," Jim says, his voice filled with emotion.

You smile and squeeze his hand, "I love you too, Jim. Always."

[queen-of-hawkins-why-ler]

It’s that Byers family rizz. That kind of quirky, offbeat, maybe a little out there charm??? That underdog and low-key-kind-of-a-loser vibe??? The niche taste in music, thrifted clothes, shaggy haircut, and having to convince others that they’re not crazy energy??? Absolutely irresistible. It’s so funny that the Byers are canonically a weird and bullied, socially outcast family but that they all canonically have rizz 😭😭 Bc why is Jonathan pulling Nancy Wheeler??? Why does every girl who looks at Will want to kiss him??? Why is someone always talking Joyce on a date??? When you’re in a rizz competition and your opponent is the Byers family.

[liyliths]

HAPPY STRANGER THINGS DAY NERDS‼️ its been 41 years since will byers went missing

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Hop & Joyce don't really like or trust Steve & he knows it. He can tell by their behavior towards him. Post spring break from Hell, Steve tears into them both after they insinuate that it's his fault for the kids being hurt. Steve YELLING at them in front of the party bc he is injured more grievously than the kids & he once again protected them, to the detriment of himself.

Joyce & Hop are forced to acknowledge that their behavior was cruel. And they have to apologize but Steve doesn't accept their apology straight away.

I am usually such a sucker for Hopper adopting Steve and treating him as his own that this was really difficult. Like, maybe top 5 most difficult things I have ever written. It's kind of short, but I wanted more of the focus to be on people standing up for Steve and Steve standing up for himself than the actual angsty part. My darling, I hope it lives up to expectations! -Mickala ❤️

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

“I guess I just don’t understand how Max ended up like this if Steve was supposed to be protecting them all.”

Joyce’s words echoed in Steve’s head.

She was whispering to Hopper in the waiting room, but it was surprisingly quiet, and easy to hear just about anything.

The kids were asleep on the couches, waiting for any news on Max or Eddie, but the nurses told them it could be hours. Hours were a long time to wait when someone was bleeding out and the other someone had multiple broken bones and was unconscious.

Steve felt untethered, his connection to the earth cut the moment he saw what happened to Eddie, pushed into a dangerous orbit when he saw what happened to Max.

“He’s never really let me down like this. Did you hear Dustin say he thinks he was distracted by Eddie?” Hopper asked quietly.

“What did he mean by that?” Joyce paused. “Oh. Do you think so?” Steve couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t see the way they were having a silent conversation within a conversation. “It wouldn’t be the first time Steve let his romantic feelings get in the way of their safety.”

And that really wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair because he always put these kids who weren’t even his first whenever he could. It wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his job to be perfect. It wasn’t fair because they were the adults who should have been here to help and they weren’t.

He could feel tears building up, his vision getting just blurry enough that he knew he needed to walk away or he would start actually crying, and he couldn’t let anyone see that.

Especially not Joyce and Hopper.

Apparently, they already thought so little of him, he couldn’t possibly show them that he was struggling now.

“I think we’ll have to have a talk with the kids about trusted adults. They seem to rely on him for a lot and maybe if we just explain to them that Steve can’t handle it-”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hopper?” A nurse, thankfully, interrupted them.

Steve turned to see a young nurse, probably barely older than him, standing in the entranceway to the waiting room.

Hopper walked over to her, actually whispering this time, as if what was being said right now was a secret, but not the way he felt about Steve.

He glanced over at Steve, then nodded to the nurse. He called Joyce over to them, whispered something, then they both looked at Steve.

He hated what was happening. He was used to being a disappointment to adults, but in a silent way. His parents weren’t really ever around long enough to show their disappointment for long. Seeing it now, on the faces of people he respected and wanted to impress, hurt.

Hopper started walking over to him, his face serious.

“They have Max stable. She may not wake up from the coma, but they’re hoping she makes a turn for the better soon. Eddie woke up a few minutes ago while they were trying to stitch him up and he kept yelling for you. He isn’t quite stable yet. He passed back out as they were trying to put him on oxygen.”

“But they’re both alive?”

“For now.”

“Can I see Max?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea right now. They’re trying to reach her mom, but the phone lines keep going down. I’m standing in as the adult responsible until she can be contacted.”

“So now you want to be the adult responsible? Not any other time when we needed you?” Erica said from behind them.

She’d been asleep with Lucas and El only a minute ago.

“Erica, it’s fine. I’ll just wait with you guys.”

“No, Steve, it’s not fine.” Erica put her hands on her hips, scowled up at Hopper and Joyce, who had just joined them. “Steve looks out for us every day. Even when the world isn’t trying to end. He drives us to school or from school or to the arcade, he pays for our food at the diner all the time, probably spends all his paychecks on us. And where are the parents? They don’t even know where we are most of the time.”

“But-” Joyce started to interrupt until Erica held up her hand.

“You left your kids to fly to Russia when you knew something weird was going on. You could have died, and then what? You know who would have stepped in? Steve. Because that’s what he does for us. Do you know one of his worst concussions was because he was protecting Lucas and Max from Billy? You know he drove Max everywhere she needed to go all year because she didn’t wanna be around anyone else? How about the fact that without him, we wouldn’t have even been able to get Eddie back here? But sure, blame him for this. It totally makes sense to point the finger at the one person who has protected us over and over again.”

Steve was crying.

The other kids were starting to wake up from her voice getting louder as she spoke, and it didn’t take long for them to realize what was happening.

El and Dustin surrounded Steve, cuddling into his sides to comfort him. He needed it, and he was always willing to accept love from the kids. They so rarely gave it, not because they didn’t love him, but because they were at that age where they didn’t want to.

These kids were his in almost every way that mattered, and he was just grateful that they weren’t hesitating when he needed them most.

“You kids could have died. Steve should have never allowed most of this to happen. He’s the adult, and he let you all go into this without even considering you could die.”

“You think we were just gonna sit around and wait for the adults to handle it? When have we ever done that?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“It’s what you should have done. Steve knows that.”

“Mr. Harrington?” A different nurse was standing in the doorway now, older, definitely less nervous.

“Yes?” Steve responded, wiping his tears away quickly.

“Mr. Munson is in a recovery room. He’s woken up a few times for a minute and each time he’s asked for you. Are you family?”

He was pretty certain hospital policy meant only family could go back, especially during natural disasters, so he lied.

“Yes, he’s my cousin. I can’t reach anyone else yet.”

The nurse smiled, though she probably didn’t quite believe him.

“Right this way, then.”

Dustin tugged on his arm.

“Can I come with you?”

“Sorry,” Steve shook his head. “Not yet. Let me check on him, and I’ll come right back out for you.”

“See? This is what I meant about letting his feelings get in the way! What if we weren’t here? Would you just leave the kids to sit out here alone?”

This time, El spoke up.

“Steve is always putting us first. He can put himself first sometimes. That is allowed.”

Steve wanted to hug her again, but the nurse looked like she was going to walk away, and if he didn’t follow her, he wouldn’t see Eddie.

“Go see him, we’ll be here,” Lucas said from next to Erica.

He nodded at them all, giving them a smile before he followed the nurse without looking back at Hopper or Joyce.

Eddie was asleep when they entered the room, so the nurse whispered to him at the door.

“He’s on a lot of morphine, and he’s still receiving a blood transfusion. He may wake up off and on, but he probably won’t make much sense until they lower the dose. Just be here for him,” she smiled before leaving the room.

Steve turned to Eddie and couldn’t hold back more tears.

He’d let him down. He’d let all of them down.

He was supposed to be the hero, despite the jokes about it all, they all knew he was.

But not this time.

Eddie almost died. Max almost died.

He could feel the bat bite on his stomach burning and itching, like it was already getting infected, but he ignored it.

He could wait.

He sat down on the side of the bed, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Eddie up.

But Eddie’s eyes fluttered open once, then twice, then a third time before they managed to stay open enough to see Steve.

“Stevie?” His voice rasped out, a small smile hidden under his oxygen mask. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Eds.”

He had to be strong, but his brain was so focused on everything he’d done wrong and if he’d just been faster or got out of the vines quicker, Eddie probably wouldn’t be here and Max would be awake and-

“Stop.”

“Hm? Stop what?”

“Bein’ mean.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even said anything else, had he? Was he so exhausted that he was actually talking without realizing it now?

“I’m not even saying anything.”

Maybe it was Eddie hearing things. He knew morphine was pretty intense.

“To yourself.”

“What?”

“Bein’ mean to yourself. In your head.”

“I-”

“��S okay. Me too sometimes. Just gotta stop.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s eyes kept drooping closed as he spoke. He would probably fall back asleep any second.

“I’ll be nice. You get some sleep.”

“You rest?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

Steve couldn’t really rest until he knew everyone was home, safe, and sleeping off some of the worst of their injuries.

“Yes yet.”

Steve snorted. Eddie was so high. He knew it was better than whatever pain he would feel when they eased him off of everything, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember all this.

“Sleep,” Eddie said, his hand managing to find Steve’s and tugging weakly on it.

“I can’t sleep here, Eds. This is your bed.”

“Our bed.”

Steve’s cheeks were hot, he knew if he touched them, they’d feel like fire. Eddie just had that way of completely rendering Steve speechless. He’d done it so many times over the last couple of days, Steve lost count.

“I’ll stay right here until your uncle gets here, okay?”

“And after?”

It probably wasn’t smart. It would look weird for him to stay in general, but he also had to get the kids home, try to patch himself up at home, maybe shower before he did some rounds and made sure everyone was taken care of.

“I have to take care of the kids.”

“But they have parents.”

“Yeah, well.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Hopper walked in, face as serious as Steve had ever seen it.

“I was able to contact your uncle, Eddie. You can go now, Steve.”

But Eddie gripped his hand harder, frowning at Hopper. He seemed more awake all of a sudden, but with the way his eyes kept trying to close, Steve could see it was a challenge.

“I want him here.”

“Eds, it’s fine. He’s not too happy with me right now, so-”

“What? Why? You helped save the world.”

Eddie was looking between Steve and Hopper like an answer would suddenly make itself known, but Hopper was just staring at Eddie, and Steve was just staring at his feet.

He didn’t want to get Eddie involved in this. He just wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe try to look Hopper in the eye again someday, and apologize to Joyce for not keeping the kids as safe as he could have.

But Eddie apparently took the “no running” thing very seriously now.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just. I kinda let them down, didn’t keep everyone safe.”

Steve shrugged it off, but he knew he wasn’t very convincing, or really even shrugging it off. He still felt the ache of disappointing people in his chest.

“Hold the fuck up. You’re serious?”

Eddie sounded as outraged as someone high on morphine could. His voice was barely distorted by the oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were nearly at their normal size.

Steve couldn’t look at either of them.

“Steve is trusted by all these parents to keep their kids out of danger, and he brought them headfirst into it. It just made Joyce and I wonder how often they were doing stupid things,” Hopper explained, though he didn’t even sound convinced he believed his own words.

Joyce was walking in just as Eddie was about to speak.

“Steve, I think you should bring Dustin home. Claudia is going to get worried.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Eddie was glaring at Joyce and Hopper.

“Let me get this straight. Steve provides free rides, and babysitting services, and meals, and fun for your kids damn near every day. He protects them during this shit every time it happens, literally puts his body on the line to keep them alive. Tried to somehow keep them as safe as possible when it seemed like the world was ending this time, did keep them alive, and you’re still finding reasons to blame him?”

They both had the decency to at least look like they regretted it.

But they still didn’t say anything.

“Fuck this. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything about your little Upside Down Club, but I’m in it now. None of us wanna be here, but we are. Steve’s been doing his best for years, since he was a kid, and all you can do is complain that your sweet angels aren’t completely unscathed? This is a team effort, you know that. They volunteered. Steve would have had to lock them in a prison cell for them not to help.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, watched as he started to lose the fire that had overtaken him temporarily, his eyes dulling as the morphine dripped into his veins and flushed through his system.

“Best damn babysitter…” Eddie mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

Steve watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he suddenly woke up again. When he didn’t, he stood up slowly, didn’t want to risk him feeling the bed move, and made his way to the door.

But something hurt in his chest, something he knew wouldn’t go away unless he said something.

He turned to see Hopper and Joyce staring at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I’m used to disappointing people. I’ve been disappointing my parents my whole life. Disappointed friends, Nancy, bosses. But I have never let those kids down. I do my best with them. I try to be there for them the way I wish someone had been there for me. I make sure they’re kids because life handed them a shitty card or whatever and they deserve to still be kids. You can be mad at me if you want, but I know I did my best. They know I did my best.”

He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to hear them say anything else about how wrong his decisions were.

But Joyce stopped him from leaving the room, hand on his arm.

“Steve, wait. Honey, I’m sorry. I think…I think we got caught up in the moment and just needed someone to blame.”

“You do the best you can. We know you do a lot for them.”

It was nice to hear, but he couldn’t get over the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he deserved more than that.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can accept the apology right now.” And then the anger really set in. It came over him so fast, he could feel his hands shaking. “A lot of things are out of our control. We all wanna blame someone for this stuff, but it just boils down to the same people over and over. Max is in a coma because of Henry Creel, not me. Eddie is in the hospital because of demon bats, not me. Eleven and Will are connected to the Upside Down because of the government, not me. I’m just trying to be whatever they need, and that’s better than I can say for either of you at this point.” Steve left this time, Joyce dropping her hand from his arm halfway through his loud speech.

Okay, he was yelling.

But Eddie slept through it, and it felt good to get all of that out.

He made his way to the waiting room, hoping everyone would still be there so he could check in.

Everything felt too fresh, too much like Vecna could show back up and take any of them at any moment.

But the waiting room was empty, not even Dustin remained.

Steve did his best not to panic. Their parents had all been contacted, so they most likely had just been picked up and brought home.

“They’ve all been picked up, sugar,” an older nurse said from the front desk.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“They left you a note, though.”

He recognized her as the woman who had been here the whole night, handling phone calls and people walking in like she’d been doing this for decades. Maybe she had been.

He walked over and grabbed it from her, giving her a small smile in thanks.

He walked outside before he opened it, not sure why he was suddenly nervous.

But as he read, he felt tears in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Steve- Go home and sleep. We’ll be okay for a day while you rest. You don’t ever do that. We don’t agree with Joyce and Hopper, and we hope you know you’re the best damn babysitter ever. Love, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, El, Will, Mike, and Max (if she could)

He folded up the note, put it in his pocket, and walked to his car.

He ignored the blood in the backseat, rolled his windows down to ignore the stench of iron.

Knew he would be spending most of his day tomorrow trying to clean the stains out, but figured it would be a good mindless task.

He thought about Eddie, about how quick he was to defend him. About how he’d gripped his hand like it was a lifeline.

It felt that way to Steve.

He hadn’t let Eddie down. He’d saved Eddie.

If he didn’t do anything else right, he’d done that, and nothing Joyce or Hopper said could take that away.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients. 

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously.  “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes.  Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind.  He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk.  “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving.  And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends.  Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes.  “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her.  Christ, she was relentless.  Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends.  That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair.  She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret?  I need to know all the facts first.  Especially if I have to keep it from my brother.  And Steve.  And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose.  She was right.  Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly.  “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention.  And truth be told?  Harrington needs a break.  So does my niece.  And your friends?  They need some time with mom and dad.  You do, too.  But right now?  You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them.  And quite frankly?  I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them.  Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding.  She pursed her lips, considering this.  Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.  Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him.  Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams.  There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast.  She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe. 

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve. 

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up. 

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world. 

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom. 

Hopper and Murray were out of the question. 

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it. 

And Argyle?  Well, he’d said about as much as he could say.  Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.  

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket.  Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly.  “It’s uhh, yeah.  Plagued at this point.  Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk.  “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, Vecna.  Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see.  She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything.  After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it.  And the way she and Robin had started off?  Not great.  Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck.  Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house.  But they weren’t exactly best friends.  Friends for sure.  But not like Nancy and Barb had been.  Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused.  “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there.  Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained.  “You two were thick as thieves.  She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness.  “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled.  “Always.  Saved them on little flashcards and everything.  She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’  Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that.  She shook her head, grinning widely.  “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip.  Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time.  As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted.  “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly.  “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.  

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky.  “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know?  Not just to tell her how sorry I am.  For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off.  Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook.  “So many questions, like…like the way we used to.  As best friends.  About — everything.  Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know.  Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter.  Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state.  Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington.  Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant.  The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life.  However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.  

Barb had been that for Nancy.  But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked.  She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip.  “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to.  Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant.  She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together.  It just…just...worked.  Clicked, made sense.  Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real.  Really real.  Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy.  But I didn’t really.  Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for.  Ever.  Not once.  He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him.  Not the other way around.  All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight.  But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept.  And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly.  “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone.  And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was.  The way that I still am.  But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”  

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it.  H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him.  Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.  

Robin knew she meant Barb.  She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry.  For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone.  All the time.  And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside.  Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice.  “He loves her, and s-she loves him back.  S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him.  And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…?  Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with?  I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her.  “It’s not selfish.  It’s human.  Steve is amazing.  But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now.  She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes.  They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset.  “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it.  “You’re right, I did.  We did.  Me and Eddie.  But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically.  Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers.  “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey.  You had each other.  Steve?  Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman.  Because back then, he didn’t know yet.  He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly.  “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly.  “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once.  Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do.  On his own.  Dustin was the first to reach out to him.  Well, he basically forced himself on Steve.  And Steve needed that.  He’s an only child.  He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him.  You have Mike.  Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued.  “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults.  He got left behind to watch the kids with her.  They went through…a lot of shit that night.  You did, too.  But so did they.  They fought off Billy Hargrove.  They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels.  They survived the night together.  You know what that feels like.  You and Jonathan bonded that way.  Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing.  Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids.  And that was great.  Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth.  Like, some sort of femme tomboy.  Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way.  At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze.  “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright?  You know you’re beautiful.  You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years.  That’s not even a question.”  

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.  

“...but Steve had to move on.  Or…find ways to convince himself that he could.  And Bauman?  She was there for that.  She was around, during all his growth.  And trust me – it was ugly.  You have nothing to envy there.  God, the way that they argued?  The way Steve talked to her, honestly?  Honestly.  You would’ve slapped him.  I sure as hell did a few times.  Mostly verbal slapping.  But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie.  You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth.  You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it.  She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now.  And she owned up to her shit, too.  It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault.  But hey, she took the hits.  Many times.  And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over.  Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture.  Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it.  But still, they got through shit together.  They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians?  She and Steve honestly kept me so sane.  And they kept us safe, too.  Me, Dustin and Erica.  They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world?  They did.  They didn’t even think twice.  Steve grew into a way better person because of her.  And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids.  She didn’t grow up with siblings either.  That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression.  Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot.  But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone.  Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it.  Shit, we didn’t know it either.  That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray.  Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed.  “I know that.”

“Of course you do.  We all do.  He does, too.  Especially now.  Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that.  She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast.  “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him.  Or him.  I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up.  Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her.  “Because who he was then, is not who he is now.  And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised.  “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently.  “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive.  “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused.  “But…what about after he got back?  What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.  She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started.  “...we just…moved past it.  We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly.  “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped.  “I’m so sick of it.  I always have to push him to tell me things.  He just — shuts me out.  Clams up, retreats.  He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods.  “That’s definitely on him.  But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.  

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers.  “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens.  “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles.  “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.  

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair.  “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did.  That he would.  That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms.  They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle.  Nancy has said enough for now.  It would all unravel itself more over time. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.  

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica.  They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.  

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying.  She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier.  Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin.  He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool.  “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected.  She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while.  It terrified him, making his anxiety spike.  Had he lost her?  Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table.  Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable.  So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water.  Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in.  Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle. 

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin. 

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously. 

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone.  Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that.  Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden.  Out of sight.  Quiet.  On high alert.  It’s a gamble.  Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread.  He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there.  And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold. 

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering. 

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against.  We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there.  Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look.  They knew this wasn’t going to go well.  At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick.  This also meant leaving Will behind.  “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly.  “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time.  El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back.  She can’t.  I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes.  “But as far as the rest of you kids go?  No more.  It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here.  But if this is how it’s gotta go down?  You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense. 

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit.  He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low.  “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce.  And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side.  Those kids are going to raise hell.  All of them are.  And this plan is not changing.  It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot.  Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is.  Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table.  “I’m counting on you.  I know that’s not fair, but I am.  You’re tough as nails.  You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends.  Your friends.  You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him.  I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it.  Whatever you have to say?  Say it.  And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me.  Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression.  But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said.  “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence.  Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us.  She can’t be now.  And Steve cannot hang back.  He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle.  And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it.  She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce.  “Tell me.  If she tries pulling a fast one?  You tell me.  Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.  Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son.  “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically.  “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms.  “We’ll have to be scarce about it.  Selective.  Nowhere is safe.  It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety.  Leaving you behind?  The kids?  Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you.  He was an extension of you.  The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked?  Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?  

Was there actually an end to this nightmare?  A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe.  Yes.  Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing.  It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered.  Every little girl does.  In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination.  The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want.  The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after.  The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl.  How could you not?  It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much.  You’d been made to grow up from a very young age.  Your grandmother had been there for you enough.  She kept a roof over your head.  Food on the table.  A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work.  You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely.  You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so.  She was gone a lot.  She wasn’t very old.  Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time.  A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant."  You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it.  She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support.  Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted.  You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city.  It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife.  It was cool, for the most part.  But it definitely meant being able to hold your own.  She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far.  He was home a lot.  Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much.  He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that.  It meant consistency.  His spare room basically became your room.  It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over.  You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it.  The two of you got along effortlessly.  His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray.  That’s where you got it from.  But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his.  He was all over the place.  You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often.  Your uncle was definitely an oddball.  But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied.  You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world.  It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself.  It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start.  A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time.  Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one.  There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.  

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin.  Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds.  But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love.  In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them.  But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together.  It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again.  Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon.  He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright.  Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch.  As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody.  Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards.  Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her.  He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max?  Always.  

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear.  He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve.  Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together.  Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.  

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.  

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh.  “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected.  “I got a better idea.  Tell your most embarrassing story.  One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering.  “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy.  “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed.  “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink.  “Trust me.  She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand.  “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn.  “One time?  I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand.  “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him.  “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time.  El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled.  “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard.  It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high.  All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too.  Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk.  All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy.  It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots.  Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright.  You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving.  And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end.  Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group.  Technically, Erica was too.  But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space.  She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door.  That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him.  After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you.  His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be.  But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses.  Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you.  “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it.  The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have.  But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out?  All of them wanted this. The two of you together.  They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable.  “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot?  It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively. 

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered. 

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready.  Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.  

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts. 

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas. 

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered. 

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. 

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?” 

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper. 

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party.  (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends.  Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.”  (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way.  It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe.  In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other.  He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago.  Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving.  You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.”  Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing.  You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress.  It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you.  Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined.  There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets.  And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once.  Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit.  He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head.  Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts.  And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them.  Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world.  Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him.  All of you were there.  Will was there, next to all his friends.  You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper.  Even your Uncle Murray.  

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique. 

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her.  She was alive, as were the rest of you.  Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.  

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together.  You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you.  It's been light.  Hopeful. 

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift.  It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling.  You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you.  A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze.  He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room.  Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully.  “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent.  He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye.  “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes.  He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind.  You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin.  The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.  

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar.  But you could really get used to it.  It’s new.  And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well.  Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him.  Likely because of Hopper.  Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn.  Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil.  Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind.  Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug.  She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand.  You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy.  Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost.  But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see.  She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room.  For Nancy, that had been…hard.  Necessary, but hard.  For multiple reasons.  For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting.  Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong.  But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night.  Not yet.  Not after everything that had unfolded.  So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart.  But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed.  Just what the doctor ordered.  Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist.  Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon.  But he was the much simpler kind.  Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting.  Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed.  A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends.  Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy.  Robin was very different from Barb.  However, her heart was just as loving.  She loved hard, and it showed.  She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return.  And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him.  And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve.  And she even began to feel some happiness for you.  Not completely.  Not yet.  She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time.  A very long time.  But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.  

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions.  Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast.  And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet.  The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household.  Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens.  It wasn’t like all the other times.  This was different.  Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them.  Comfortable.  It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others.  And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks.  Their faces were somber, a bit grim.  Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands.  Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous.  Maybe even afraid. 

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed.  And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got.  Tension spread around the room.  It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound.  They hadn’t uttered a single word.  Not one of them.  The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards.  They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines.  The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils. 

One list of names would be hiding out here.  The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk.  Both teams could die.  Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat.  His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish.  His mind races, but his lips don’t move.  Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards.  The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him.  And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened.  Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now.  You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group.  With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did.  He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control.  He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards.  Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud.  He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica.  Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue.  He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother.  He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance.  Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated.  He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride.  But even so, he looked conflicted.  Really conflicted.  

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie.  She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it.  You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards.  Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs.  While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently.  As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious.  Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy.  Did they know this was coming?  Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them.  The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly.  “Truthfully, it’s not owed.  I know that.  Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me.  Not those guys out there.  Hence why I’m here.  And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things.  Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned.  Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense.  He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before.  There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were.  “If it were up to me?  None of you would be out there.  I’d be out there on the frontlines.  But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here.  Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect.  The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this.  We’ll be surrounded from all angles.  No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.  

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman.  I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction.  It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear.  He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self.  He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught?  What do we do?  Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward.  “We’ve thought about that.  Right now, there’s only 2 options.  But they’re solid.  The best we’ve got right now.  One more than the other.  See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up.  And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life.  His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed.  Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter.  They had him beat, and he knew it.  He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen.  It was so unexpected that he did as she said.  But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion.  As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t.  Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend.  Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense.  That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike.  Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement.  Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop.  “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled.  “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”  

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown.  Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him.  Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them.  All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this.  After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes. 

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack.  He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand.  Please Steve, please, let me go with you.  Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug.  The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time.  Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley.  She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf.  You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well.  His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.  

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end.  She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame.  “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs.  Jonathan watched her go, panicking.  He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading.  You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated.  You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side.  Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.  

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life.  Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest.  He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them.  He couldn’t.  If he did, he’d failed them.  But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway.  He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them.  For them. 

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed.  The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him.  He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.  

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first.  Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul. 

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him.  I understand.  I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand. 

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language.  I love you and I hate this.  But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast.  He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain. 

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.  

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El.  They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.  

This plan was not open for discussion.  

This plan was not open for debate.  

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

[honeii-puff]

Something that kinda pisses me off is the angst erasure of Steve Harrington.

Not just by most of the fandom, but also by the show.

My guy was a normal teenager with a shitty family at the start, and yeah, he became less of a jerk, but his life became a lot worse.

He has almost died several times.

He was tortured by the Russians.

He got strangled by demobats.

He's seemingly beaten up every season.

Yet none of the characters (or the show) bring that up after it happens.

I just want one scene in s5 where he gets to talk about his trauma with somebody for a while.

Where he isn't the babysitter, or the guardian, or the protector.

Where he's just Steve.

A teenager that got thrown into this mess and had no time to cope with all the shitty things that followed due to his innate need to take care of the kids in the way that nobody took care of him.

The way still nobody takes care of him.

I want him to be able to heal.

Even if it's just him and Hop having a drink and talking.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x Reader | angsty smut | includes infidelity, Reader is married to a different public servant of Hawkins (can you guess who, @umnitsa ? 😉) Hopper is married as well, death of Hopper’s daughter mentioned, Hopper is a real ass here, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, ANGST ANGST ANGST…

@mrshopper84 @travelingtwentysomething @beefrobeefcal @braincell-pingpong @skye-44 @midwest-princess @riotrhythm

──────────────────────

“This isn’t right.”

At first, Hopper didn’t hear you speak. He was too distracted by the taste of your soft skin on his tongue, his mouth pressed to your neck in an open kiss. When your words did register in his mind, he disregarded them. Who gave a fuck whether what the two of you were doing was right or wrong? Hadn’t you both earned some happiness? You, with a husband too absorbed in his work to pay you any attention, and Hopper, whose wife had grown so cold and distant after the death of their daughter that she barely let him touch her anymore?

“This isn’t right, Hopper,” you repeated, insistent this time. His grip on your hips tightened, almost hurting. You were sitting on his lap in his office, after hours at the station. In the darkness, just the two of you, just how you liked it. How you needed it to be, to avoid a scandal that would turn the small town of Hawkins upside down...

You became frustrated at Hopper’s disregard for your words, pulling back from him. His jaw tightened, his lips a thin, hard line. “And what makes you think I fuckin’ care if it’s right or wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and impatient. “I want you.” Hopper bounced his knee under you, making you gasp as your cunt settled against the thick outline of his cock. Hopper exhaled as you shifted on top of the erection painfully straining against his uniform. “I want you,” he reiterated, speaking through grit teeth. “I want you and that asshole you’re married to doesn’t.” Hopper’s words stung already, but they were about to get worse.

“That new secretary he just hired? Remember her?” You braced yourself for what you already knew was coming. “He’s fucking her, did y’know that?” Hopper didn’t waste time softening the blow of his words with pretty euphemisms. Why should he? You’d come this far, let him touch you already. You were straddling Hopper’s lap for fucks sake. You wanted this as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he let you pretend to have grown a conscience between the time you straddled his lap and now…

Hopper knew you were a smart woman. You must have known your husband was having an affair, that he’d been unfaithful for as long as the two of you had been married. “Mrs. Kline,” Hopper uttered your name through a cruel smirk. He reached for the strand of hair spilling down your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as Hopper’s thumb grazed your earlobe, his skin warm. “Don’t let this time we have go to waste,” Hopper told you. “We both know things aren’t going to change anytime soon, for either one of us.”

You shifted a little on top of his thighs, Hopper’s cock pulsing against your cunt in response. You’d already soaked through your panties, a wet patch leaking through onto Hopper’s pants. He’d have to wash those himself, later. Couldn’t risk his wife finding them in the laundry and asking questions. But a bit of deception was a small price to pay if it meant finally getting inside you.

“Larry is-,” you began, but Hopper bucked you on his knee again, silencing you.

“Mm-mm,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Don’t say the bastard’s name. Not when you’re with me.”

Hopper swallowed any words you may have had left in a kiss. His tongue licked back the apprehension sitting on the edge of yours, the things you knew you should say, but didn’t want to. Mainly, the word “no.” You didn’t want to tell Hopper no.

His large hands held you down against his lap, thumbs finding purchase in the space where your hips and thighs met. Being the mayor’s wife, you’d interacted with the Chief of Police several times over the years. But never like this. The time you’d spent together had been social, limited to local events. Always public, always within the gaze of the people of Hawkins. The eyes of the public on you had forced both you and Hopper to keep your desire for one another a secret. But now, years later, you’d both grown weary of pretending, of keeping things professional. His hand slipped between your legs, gliding under the waist of your panties. You gasped as Hopper inserted two of his thick, calloused fingers inside you without warning. A cocky little grin pulled at his lips. “Just warming you up, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently, adding “Christ you’re fuckin’ tight…Might send you back to Lare a little broken, y’know…?”

You moaned into Hopper’s chest as he fingered you, humping against his palm. No matter how fucking good his fingers felt inside you, he was still Jim Hopper. The same man who’d developed a reputation for drinking and drug use while on the job. The same man whose wife was presumably sleeping soundly right now, at the home she shared with Hopper, having bought the lie he’d sold her about needing to stay late at the station for ‘work.’ He was working, but not the way he’d implied. Hopper’s fingers working inside you were an altogether different kind of work, the way he manipulated your cunt yet another form of manipulation he was very skilled at, in addition to lying to his wife.

“You’re so close,” Hopper gloated at your ear in a low, smug voice. The fact that he was getting you off with nothing but his fingers was stroking Hopper’s ego, just like his fingers were stroking your insides. He held a misplaced sense of pride in being able to do for you what your husband couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It was something Hopper could accomplish, something he could succeed at, in contrast with his crumbling marriage. Maybe instead of thrusting his fingers up another woman’s cunt, he should have been at home with his wife, working on repairing his marriage. But Hopper wasn’t interested in what he should be doing. All he wanted to do, was you.

The sound of Hopper’s chair creaked loudly in the small office at the impact of you grinding on his lap. He smacked your ass with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, then carefully removed the one that was. You whimpered at being suddenly empty, pouting up at Hopper in frustration. He didn’t deny you for long, quickly working his belt and pants undone, his cock springing free and smacking thick and wet against your cunt with an audible slap. Hopper lifted you by your hips, guiding you onto his plump, leaking tip and letting you sink onto him at your own pace.

Hungry, greedy, your cunt swallowed Hopper with minimal difficulty. You managed to take him whole, your clit pressed against the coarse dark hair above Hopper’s cock. He growled behind grit teeth, as the sensation of being consumed by you overtook him. It had been years since Hopper had been with a woman besides his wife. The grip of fresh pussy moving up and down his shaft caused Hopper’s brain to temporarily glaze over. He was lurched back into awareness by the harsh ring of the telephone sitting on his desk.

“Ignore it,” Hopper panted, speaking to himself as much as you. A moment later, the phone ceased ringing. When the shrill sound began again less than a minute later, Hopper pulled his lips from your throat and cursed. He knew there was only one person who would be trying to reach him here at this time of night. Hopper reached for the phone, gently lifting it from the receiver. He brought his index finger against his lips, instructing you to remain quiet. Forcing his voice as steady as possible, considering you were grinding up and down on his cock, Hopper spoke: “Diane?” You nuzzled your face into Hopper’s neck, muffling your own sounds into his shirt. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line spoke, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to keep riding Hopper, moving closer and closer to your peak.

“I can’t-I uh-,” Hopper stammered, swallowing. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the sweat blooming beneath the hair peeking out from his shirt collar. “I’m gonna be a little longer, sweetheart,” Hopper managed, clearing his throat. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remove the image of your breasts bouncing in front of him with every descent you made on his cock. His wife’s voice chattered away on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes,” Hopper said, and inwardly, you grimaced. You wanted all night with him, but under the circumstances, both your options and Hopper’s were limited.

“Yeah,” Hopper grunted, followed by a rushed “love you too,” before he quickly replaced the phone on top of the receiver. You paused, meeting his eyes in the dim light of his office. “Is that true?” you asked tentatively, your voice breathless. Hopper’s hands were all over you again, as if the phone call had never happened. His expression conveyed annoyance as he sorted out what you were asking him, his response a confused “what?”

“She said I love you,” you explained. “Your wife. And you said it back.” Hopper’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s your point?”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, despising how pitiful and small you sounded in this moment. Hopper exhaled, the cruel smirk returning to his lips. “How is that any of your fucking business?” he asked through a humorless chuckle. His smile evaporated as a darker look replaced it. “Now you listen to me, because here’s how this is gonna work-.” His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing a little too hard. “-You’re gonna keep these legs spread till I come in between them and then we’re gonna part ways like this never fuckin’ happened, understand?” You nodded, forcing the tears behind your eyes not to fall. You wouldn’t give Hopper the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you anymore than he already had.

Hopper nodded, satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he said, without any sentiment behind his words. Hopper’s arms crushed you against him as he bucked up into you. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightening. Hopper’s grunts of exertion grew sharper, till his body stilled tight against yours, his cum spilling inside you. With his forehead pressed to your shoulder, Hopper panted hot and labored against your chest.

The absence of sound in the office, apart from Hopper’s breath, was far from quiet. A sick tension hung in the air, his cold words repeating back in your mind on a loop. After a moment, Hopper patted your ass and instructed you to “get up.” He held onto the base of his cock as you slid off it, a thick trail of semen gushing out and landing on his thigh. Hopper cursed, almost as if implying the mess was your fault. He turned his back to you, lighting a cigarette. Feeling unsatisfied and worse, ashamed, your voice was trembling when you quietly asked, “should I…go?”

Hopper’s shoulders moved in small chuckle, and he turned to face you. His cock was still hanging out, as if he was in no hurry to put it away. You, by contrast, had already begun to dress. Hopper sucked a long drag out of his cigarette, exhaling as he informed you flatly, “yeah, we’re done here.” He reached for his coat and made his way to the door. Even though you were fully dressed by now, you felt more exposed than ever. He waved his hand ahead of him, ushering you out the front door of the station. “See yourself out,” Hopper directed. The hurt inside you was beginning to boil over into rage. You’d never felt more used in your life, even after being humiliated by your husband’s affairs for years. “Fuck you, Jim,” you spat at him, your saliva landing on his cheek. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted in a look of amusement. “Well that already happened,” he taunted.

The cold night air was oddly welcoming as you burst through the station door and out into the parking lot. You found your vehicle and quickly got inside, your hands squeezing the steering wheel till your fingers cracked. You left the station and made your way home to your husband, while another man’s cum slowly leaked out of you onto the driver’s seat the whole way home.

[harrywavycurly]

I just know Eddie told Wayne and Wayne told his bff Jim about this “date” and I just really would love to hear Jim and Reader talking about it💕

Hiii lovey!! I love the idea of Wayne and Jim just being two gossiping besties😂 so I hope you enjoy this convo between Reader and Jim💖

*reminder I never mention what Jim’s relationship is to you in this series he can be your dad or just someone you grew up with and love like a father or he can just be whatever you want/need him to be*

-find all things Trouble Next Door here✨

“So…anything new going on with you?” “Not really…can I snag a beer?” “Yeah yeah help yourself….so..really there’s nothing going on with you that…you wanna talk about?” “If you want to know something just ask…you’re horrible at playing dumb.” “Wayne told me Eddie asked you on a date.” “It’s not a real date.” “Not a real date? What does that even mean?” “It means it’s like…he wants it to be a practice date.” “Do…you…want it to be a practice date?” “Jim be real…it’s Eddie.” “So? I mean…you’ve known him pretty much your whole life…I’m shocked you two haven’t-” “he’s my bestfriend in the entire world…I can’t ever risk losing him…it would…I just can’t.” “Can’t lose him or can’t picture yourself dating him?” “Uhm…both?” “Really?…huh…well you know I just want you to be happy.” “I know…I’ve just…i don’t know? I’ve never thought about Eddie in any other way than just…my other half?” “That’s a term usually used by people in love…” “I love him.” “Yeah but just as friends right?…you’re not in love with him?” “I…why are you asking me this? I just…no…I don’t…I don’t know.” “Hey hey…it’s okay I’m sorry…let’s just sit on the couch and watch shitty television and have a few beers okay?” “Yeah…that sounds good…can we order pizza?” “Whatever you want kid…but is it okay if I just say something really quick?” “Sure…” “Eddie is a good guy…I’ve seen how he looks at you…your happiness comes first…always…so ya know I uhm…I’d approve of you…dating him.” “Thanks Jim…”

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice. 

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out. 

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle. 

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked. 

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear. 

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her. 

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed. 

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.” 

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall. 

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush. 

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it. 

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find. 

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose. 

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you. 

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress. 

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads. 

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. 

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me. 

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back. 

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t. 

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go. 

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work. 

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around. 

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising. 

Happy. 

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave. 

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out. 

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror. 

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light. 

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again. 

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl. 

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there. 

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere. 

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home. 

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners. 

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You. 

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh. 

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to. 

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face. 

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive. 

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand. 

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first. 

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed. 

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about. 

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her. 

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?” 

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time. 

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies. 

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup. 

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan. 

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut. 

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.” 

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this. 

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous. 

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work. 

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him. 

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you. 

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance. 

“Can I take a picture?” you ask. 

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too. 

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in. 

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there. 

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said. 

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this. 

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay. 

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[little-annie]

A bit of ☹️ for you to write!

@whumptober | Tattoo Gun | WIP | TW Death of a Child

●●●

Five needles piercing into your skin a thousand times a minute doesn't hurt so much when you're numb.

Not numb from creams or lotions or sprays, but from loss.

From watching one little girl succumb to an illness you caused. Brought on to her by your own personal neglect and negligence.

A tactic of war.

Agent Orange didn't sound so bad in the 70s. Boots on the ground and jungle brush around him. 

He was told then that's what had to be done. The Jim Hopper of 18 years old.

Now though, he knows many families have faced the same fate as his own.

Loss.

Loneliness.

Regret and numbness.

In the sterile vinyl chair at a random tattoo shop one state over, he thinks too of second chances.

And how he enviably failed that one all on his own.

They'll have laid El to rest one day past tomorrow.

Tucked her into a casket, letters and photos of those she loved around her, Sunflowers and daisies above.

Flowers the same as he set upon hers and Sarah's graves no more than three hours ago.

He'll never forget them. His girls, and the parts of his heart and soul that they carry.

Today's for them, as is the blue hair tie that'll forever rest just above his right hand.

●●●

Come make me write

[vilentia]

One Shot

Finding Love at the Diner

[steddieunderdogfics]

i was hitting my marks ('cause i can do it with a broken heart) by captainboomeraangs

@stevestark

Rating: Teen and Up

9,794 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Chose Not to Use

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Mix Tapes as A Love Language, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Touch-Starved Steve Harrington, steve harrington gets Vecna'd

Summary:

Steve makes his first mix tape after Nancy calls him bullshit. He's sick of always being kicked around or tossed aside, and he's especially sick of the way it makes him feel. So, he turns on the radio and starts recording any song that makes him feel good. He grabs a marker, some tape, and names it his Rainy Day Mix. After that, he can't seem to stop making mix tapes; it becomes a form of therapy for him, and, in the end, it's the best thing he ever did.

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