#Steve harrington x Newby!reader

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Rapture

Where You Lead Masterlist

“Dad?” You call out when you enter the house. You can hear the radio playing from somewhere, so you follow it to the laundry room where your dad is folding towels. “Hey buddy. How was work?” he asked, setting down the last of the towels. 

“It was good,” you began, “there was a weird power outage, but that’s it.”

You quickly duck into room to change into sweats and a t-shirt, returning to your dad still talking,  “…wonder if it hit the whole town. Maybe it's from the lab?” 

“What could they be doing that would cause a town-wide blackout?” you ponder aloud.

You migrate to the kitchen, and he brings the radio with him. 

“I don’t know, ” he answers, then pauses and continues, “Maybe they’re testing windmill power?” 

You furrow your brow at that, “Does Hawkins even have windmills?”

“Thats probably why it didn’t work then,” he giggles, clearly pleased at his joke.

Summary: Y/n Newby works the closing shift at Benny's Burgers, accidentally gives someone a nosebleed, and meets a really weird kid

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Newby!reader, Blood, Minors smoking, Trashy romance novels, not proofread

Anastasia gripped Robert’s biceps, taking note of how firm and large they were under her petite hands. They stood at the cliff’s edge, surrounded by the British navy. “Oh Robert, what are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry my love, as long as we are together we can survive anything.”

With that, the pirate dipped her low and kis-

A large hand grabs the book from you, interrupting the passionate scene.

“A Pirate’s Love…really? What was it last week, A Ride to Remember? I think you might need an intervention at this point”

Looking up, you see Jonathan Byers grabbing the book to read the summary on the back.

“It was not A Ride to Remember,” you say, grabbing the book back from the boy, “It was Big Sky Country and it was very tasteful, thank you! God, you make it sound like all I read is bodice ripping filth.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrow, pointedly looking at the cover of your book, which features a woman’s bodice literally being ripped off her body by the handsome pirate. 

“Ok this is a bad example,” you defend, slightly pink in the face.

 “The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” He says, smirking. 

“The only problem I have is you.” 

Benny’s Burgers had been dead since 9 pm, save for the boy who’d come in just before 10.  Normally, Jonathan would have gone straight home, but after working a double he needed a pick-me-up in the form of a cheeseburger – and your company. 

You sit behind the counter, book back in your hands, while Benny is in the back, getting ready to close the kitchen. 

Jonathan sits on the other side, fiddling with the radio at the counter, changing the station to find something more aligned with his taste, so you take the opportunity to examine his worn out face. 

He was clearly weary after work, the constant eyebags looking even heavier than normal. His 5 o'clock shadow looks like it had been there for at least a day and he has the distinct smell of old popcorn oil that tells you he’d been stuck at the concessions stand for at least 5 hours. 

You clear your throat looking pointedly at him, “What do you want?”

He looks at you sheepishly, seemingly having forgotten that he still needed to order, “uh, a number 3.”

You nod at him, then yell through the window at Benny, “Drag a cow through Wisconsin and marry it!”

“Just say it normally!” you hear him call back. 

You giggle back at his annoyed response to your insistence at using the old fashioned diner lingo.

Turning back to Jonathan you ask, “what do you want to drink?”

His eyes flick to the milkshake machine, then he looks up at you grinning, “what’s new?”

You lean over the counter at him, matching grin on your face, “working on something new for the holidays: hot chocolate milkshake”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, “how is it different from regular chocolate?”

You scoff, as if it's obvious, “it has marshmallows”

“That's it?” he laughs and you scoff again, “No! It also has a candy cane.”

Not 10 minutes later, Jonathan is chewing through his burger ferociously, only breaking to sip on his milkshake. Glancing at your watch, you look up at the boy, still working his way through his meal. Sighing, you speak, “Mind if I close around you?”

He grunts his approval, clearly more interested in his burger. 

Going through your closing tasks, you’re mopping the floor when the lights flicker, then go out. “Hey, Benny?” you call out in the darkness, careful not to slip on the wet floor. 

“Yeah, I know…let me check the generator.”

The darkness only lasts 30 more seconds and suddenly the lights return. 

Jonathan never stopped eating his food. At 10:30, you finally kick him out. 

“I put the closed sign out like 15 minutes ago!”, you say as you push him out of the diner. 

“You’re the best, you know that,” he laughs as you close the door behind him. 

“Yeah, you’re just saying that cause I didn’t make you pay”

You lock the door and turn to the kitchen. Grabbing your coat and bag, you exit through the back door. The cool air hits your legs. Your uniform isn’t very forgiving to the early November air, but its not unbearable. You hoof it to your truck, parked next to Benny’s. 

“Can I get one of those?” you nod at the cigarette carton he holds. He rolls his eyes then hands you the pack of reds. 

After lighting his own stick, he passes the lighter to you, “Don’t tell your dad”

“Obviously,” you don’t even look up, taking a drag of the cigarette. 

You lean against his truck, next to him. As you smoke in silence, you find yourself humming a familiar tune. Benny huffs out a laugh and catches on

“...B-B-B-Bennie and the jets!”, you sing out the piano accompaniment as well. 

The pair of you dissolve into laughter and Benny puts his arm around you, pulling you into a tight side hug. He ruffles your hair and says, “alright buddy, get home safe.”

“See you tomorrow”

 –––––

“Dad?” You call out when you enter the house. You can hear the radio playing from somewhere, so you follow it to the laundry room where your dad is folding towels. “Hey buddy, how was work?” he asks, setting down the last of the towels. 

“It was good,” you begin, “there was a weird power outage, but that’s it.”

You quickly duck into your room to change into sweats and a t-shirt, returning to your dad still talking,  “…wonder if it hit the whole town? Maybe it's from the lab?” 

“What could they be doing that would cause a town-wide blackout?” you ponder aloud.

You migrate to the kitchen, and he brings the radio with him. 

“I don’t know, ” he answers, then pauses and continues, “Maybe they’re testing windmill power?” 

You furrow your brow at that, “Does Hawkins even have windmills?”

“Thats probably why it didn’t work then,” he giggles, clearly pleased at his joke.

You roll your eyes and pull some leftovers from the fridge then stick them in the microwave. Listening to the radio, your dad hums along to the music, some old country song. 

The next song plays and you smile as your dad holds out his hands to twirl you around the kitchen. Your dad sings along to Carole King as you laugh through the dizziness he inflicts on you. 

He finally relents and lets you catch your breath when the microwave finishes. You grab your plate and give him a quick on the cheek. “Night dad!” you call out from your doorway. 

“Sweat dreams, buddy!” you softly grin at his reply.

–––––

The next morning comes far too early for you. The alarm blares angrily while you blindly throw your hand to shut it off. Trudging into the kitchen, you start on making coffee for you and your dad. You usually get up before him, meaning you take care of breakfast and morning chores. 

Putting the last of the grinds into the machine, you make a mental note to get more after school. The soft glow of the kitchen light allows you to read as you wait for the coffee to brew.

The hiss of the coffee machine rouses you from your book and you pull two mugs from the cabinet, before pouring half the pot into yours. You make two lunches, put one into the fridge and leave for early morning practice. 

––––––

At the school, you are one of the first to show up in the locker room. Its nice to have the peace that comes with just you and a quiet few others. You duck down to reach your lower level locker, incidentally becoming invisible as a group of three girls from the cheer team also walk in, conversing rather loudly for 6 am. 

“I totally saw them making out in the boys bathroom last week,” the blonde exclaims while putting on her top, “like have some decency.”

“Ew! I don’t even know what he sees in her, she’s a sophomore,” the other replies in a nasally voice, “and not even a cool one, all she does is study!”

“Do you think he’s using her to get better grades,” the third asks airily, “she is really smart.”

“Whatever,” the blonde counters, “he’ll probably move on in like 2 seconds when he realizes what a priss she is”

You roll your eyes at that and stand up, alerting them to your presence. Silently, you walk past them and onto the field to start your run. 

You put your walkman in to listen to a Blondie album. As you run, your mind begins to wander.

 You don’t know Nancy Wheeler well, as the two of you interact peripherally. You had shared a class once or twice, and you saw her in the hallways decently frequently. You know her brother hangs out with your next door neighbor, he and all his little friends bike around the block pretty frequently. She always seemed kind, saying hi when you crossed paths, but you didn’t actually know enough to determine if the blonde was right about her being a priss. 

However, you are sure they were right about Steve moving on in no time. Even you, who tries so desperately to keep your head down and away from the popular kids, knew about Steve Harringtion’s reputation. His intense popularity earned him the nickname  “King Steve''. You understand why, from a technical standpoint. He’s rich, good at sports, and is (in a completely objective way) attractive. 

Your mind continues to roam, and you briefly remembered the time you and Steve had partnered on a history project. It was right before you found out your mom had died

You shook that thought from your head and focused on running faster. In your ears, the nonsense rapping of Debbie Harry blared and you felt the sweat drip down your face, despite the November chill. The coach sounded the whistle and you ran towards the gym for your actual practice, tossing your walkman onto the bleachers inside. 

You’ve partnered with Anna for passing. The sting against your fingertips as you hit the volleyball feels good, like a physical reminder of how powerfully you are hitting the ball. The longer the drills go on, the more the thoughts from earlier creeping in.

Nancy, smiling and nodding at you in the halls.

Hit!

Steve sitting next to you in the library.

Smack!

Your mom’s funeral.

Thud!

You hear the coaches whistle before you realize you’ve hit the ball into the face of one of the JV girls. Blood gushes out of her nose onto the shiny gym floor. Her coach rushes her to the nurse while yours orders you to do 30 burpees and 3 laps.

The cold water of the locker room does nothing to ease the tension in your body. 

––––––

In 6th period English, Mrs. Fleming drones on about Of Mice and Men when you notice the seat behind you is empty. Jonathan’s seat. You glance up to make sure Mrs. Fleming isn’t looking before you pass a note to the girl next to you.

Do you know where Byers is?

It takes a moment but you receive the note back with new writing.

I heard something happened to his brother

Your mind runs wild at the thought of something bad happening to Will. It always warmed your heart to see the small boy with Jonathan, especially when the teen treats him to dinner at Benny’s. You make sure that he always gets extra whipped cream on his shakes as you hand them to him with a wink. 

The worry stays in your bones through the rest of the day. 

––––––

You begin your shift stressed, tying the small apron around your waist, finding it empty. 

“Benny, did you see where I put my pad?” you call out into the restaurant

“Uh, check the office,” his voice comes out from somewhere in the dining area. Earl and Henry are probably out there. 

It's right there on the desk. Of course it is.

You walk further into the building, so focused on putting your hair up that you almost collide with the small body hunched over the kitchen counters. 

“hey!”

A tiny face looks up at you, nearly feral with fear and begins to back up, right into Benny. He moves to grab the child, but it's faster and runs away, crashing into you. You instinctively wrap your arms around the small frame as it freezes. 

“Hey-hey,” you carefully lower yourself to eye-level trying to remain gentle without letting them go, “its ok…its ok” 

You’re finally able to get a good look. What you see angers you: A shaved head, bare feet, hospital gown and the kid is covered in dirt and grime. All signs point to some terrible reason for this child to be stealing fries from Benny’s. 

The kid seems to calm down, and doesn’t run when you move to only hold her hand. 

You look at Benny, unsure of where to go from here. 

“What d’you think about closing early?” he says, looking back at you with the same confusion. 

–––––

You’d helped the kid clean up and replace her hospital gown with an extra large t shirt from the restaurant. She’s so small that the shirt swallows her and your heart aches.

Benny has given her some food, which she scarfs down, even faster than Jonathan. You sit across from her, both you and Benny trying to get her to open up.

“Your parents forget to feed you?” Benny asks, “Is that why you ran away?”

The girl just keeps eating. 

“Were you hurt?” you question gently, “Why were you in the hospital?”

Still nothing

“You run away from the hospital?” Benny continues

At this the girl looks up briefly, then goes straight back to the burger. Frustrated, Benny pulls the burger away from her.

You smack her in the chest, scolding him “Hey man, you can’t just take food from a starving kid!”

“I’m not taking it away. She can have it back, and more, if she answers us. Maybe I'll throw in some ice cream too.” he looks back at the silent girl, “do we have a deal”

He takes her silence as agreement. 

“Ok, lets start with the easy stuff,” he begins, “I’m Benny. Benny Hammond.” he shows her how to shake hands. You hold out your hand and she gingerly takes it. You give her a smile, speaking softly, “I’m Y/n Newby. What's your name?” 

The girl looks confused and the silence remains. Benny glances down at her arm and your eyes follow his to a small marking��a tattoo of some kind. She yanks her arm back, but you catch the numbers before she hides them.

“Eleven? What does it mean? Can you tell us?” you ask

“No”, she says timidly.

Benny interjects, “Well I’ll be damned, she speaks.”

You send a glare his way, to which he rolls his eyes and addresses the girl, “‘no’ No, what?”

She goes back to holding her tongue. 

“Alright, fine. No more food then,” he gets up, taking the tray with him

You attempt to protest, but the child beats you to the punch, “Eleven”

You and Benny exchange glances before he sits back down and probes further, “yeah Eleven– what does that mean?”

She points at herself then repeats it, “Eleven.”

Benny returns the food to her and she chews voraciously. He leaves her with you while he calls social services from the kitchen. You stare at the little girl. She looks no older than 12. The color has returned to her cheeks since eating and she certainly looks better now that shes been mildly cleaned up. 

Eleven looks up at you through her eyelashes and pushes her now empty cup to you.

“You want some more?” you ask and she nods. 

You pop behind the counter, to the soda fountain and refill her cup with water. Walking back, you notice its quieter, but you can’t place why. Glancing around, you see the fan has stopped whirring. It had been annoying in the beginning when Benny got it, but eventually it became just another part of the background noise. 

You pay it no mind, continuing your path to the little girl currently wiping her nose. 

You set down her water and openly stare at her as she hoovers down her burger. She finishes, her face covered in grease and sauce. Grabbing some napkins, you hand them to her but she just stares at you blankly. “Here,” you reach for her cheek with another napkin and she leans away, “Its ok. I’m just gonna wipe your face. You got a little carried away there” 

She leans back toward you, blushing lightly, and you clear her face of the burger’s remains. 

“There,” you smile, staring at your handiwork, “clean as a whistle!”

The toothy smile she gives you warms your heart. You lean closer to her and faux whisper, “Have you ever had a milkshake?”

She shakes her head no and you smirk, “prepare to have your mind blown.”

Ten minutes later, you are both sat on the kitchen counters, giggling as Eleven tries her 3rd shake from the lineup you’ve created. 

“What do you think, kiddo?” you ask, and she thinks for a minute then places the chocolate shake in between the strawberry and vanilla.

“Ooh, strawberry remains number one?” you check and she grins and nods. 

With every minute you spend with her, you notice her opening up more and more. You don’t know how you’re going to be able to leave her at the end of the night. You’ve already stayed 30 minutes later than when your shift was supposed to end. 

As you’re contemplating, Benny walks in, finally off the phone. 

“Y/n” he says, jerking his head to the office. You look back at Eleven, apprehensive about leaving her alone, but she seems content sipping on her chocolate shake as she fishes for the cherry from the already done strawberry shake. 

You follow Benny into the office, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

You immediately question him, “what’d they say?”

He pulls his hand over his face, “they’re coming in the morning to get her…taking her up to Roane county offices. She’ll stay here tonight, I can set the cot out tonight for her.”

You glanced out to peek at Eleven, who’d moved onto her next shake. She was so small, and you’d heard of kids who’d gone into the system. Furrowing your brow, you asked Benny, “Do you need me to stay here tonight?” 

He shook his head, “It's okay buddy, you’ve got class tomorrow. You get home – I’ve got this.”

“Okay…” you responded, not sure why you were so disappointed.

–––––

After you hang up your apron, you approach Eleven, still sitting on the counter. “Hey kiddo,” you begin, “I have to head home.”

She looks up at you, her brown eyes swimming with uncertainty. If you weren’t so close at her, you wouldn’t have heard her say, “Leave?” “Yeah, Eleven, I’m leaving.” you reply.

“No,” she begins to hop off the counter, “stay”

You crouch to her height and hold arms softly

“Oh kiddo…I have to go home, but I’ll tell you what: I’ve had such a great time with you today. I’ll give you my number, and whenever you get where you’re going, you can give me a call, ok? You’ll tell me all about it?” you reach into your bag and tear a piece of paper from your notebook, writing your bedroom phone number on it. You pass it into Eleven’s hand before she pulls you into a tight hug. When she finally releases you from the embrace, you wipe a stray tear from her cheek. 

Rising, you lift her back onto the counter and pat her forehead. Loud enough for Benny to hear, you say, “Alright you two, don’t have too much fun. Eleven, keep an eye on him.”

You give her a wink and she giggles.

Walking out the door, you hear Benny call out to you, "bye buddy!"

Next Part

[officerrrfriendly]

The Taken, First Strike.

stranger things conjuring!AU, priest!steve harrington x demonologist/clairvoyant!fem reader.

With an abundance of reluctance, your feet found themselves taking brave steps one after another as they eventually met a birch-wood doorway. But it wasn't any ordinary doorway, inside sat her. The frail and misfortunate Maxine Mayfield, who you still referred to as such- out of a habit of profession- much despite her insistence on "just calling her max, she doesn't go by Maxine anymore."

And in that moment, all of your previous doubts from earlier flooded back into your brain, before you could give into them and turn back, she spoke out. She called your name, a glint of hope present in her tone with some desperation, too.

You sigh heavily to try and alleviate all the weight you suddenly feel pressing against your chest before you eventually reply.

"Hi, Maxine," you mutter, smiling softly before slowly approaching the vacant armchair beside her, full of funky patterns and colours. She sat timidly, her hands held onto one another whilst fingers from each hand wandered over freckles on the backs of her hands she had forgotten she had. Her hair was shorter now, bobbed and fell just below her ears but she was still so beautiful. You tried your hardest to avoid looking into the milky white orb of her left eye and the thick bandage that covered the gaping wound on her right.

If you thought about that night for any longer, you thought you would just about lose your mind- so you shook your head of protruding thoughts and focussed on the topic of importance here, which was the girl beside you.

She laughs, and this time it wasn't humourless or dry but it was real, amusing. "How many times have I told you to just call me Max, hm?" she pokes, she sits further up in her seat as you laugh along with her.

"If I had to guess...I'd say only about 100 million times," you say, with a sigh. Your answer makes her smile for a moment but then she sighs, something is clearly bothering her.

Unexpectedly, without needing encouragement to open up, she speaks. "No one's visited in a while, Lucas...he finds it hard coming here, seeing me like this. He's never said it- but..." she huffs, lowering her head down to the floor. "I know that every time he's here with me he's just stuck in that night, what happened to Billy...me. Even though I can't see him, I can sense it, he's terrified to be around me and I hate it. I hate it because I love him so much...do you have somebody like that?" As the forbidden question leaves her tongue it triggers thoughts you had wished to never think about again, you think of him- and how neither of you haven't seen or spoken to each other since that very night.

Your head shakes, wishing to be done with the thought of Father Steve, and how you've treated him since after the night of July 4th 1983...at the exorcism of Billy Hargrove.

"I'd rather not answer that question... Honey, tell me more about what's been going on with Lucas!"

.•.•.•

You wipe desperately at your tears as they fall on your way to your ocean-blue Austin Maestro car. Your fingers struggle to keep up with the vast amount that began to flood out of your tear ducts.

You harboured a considerably brave face - despite Max not being able to notice it- throughout the entire hour after Max had asked you that god-forsaken question to which you had no answer.

She had talked about Billy, her nightmares, PTSD, her love life and even her mom running off to the other side of the world with her new young boyfriend and a bottle of Jack...she lived a sad life, one you had hoped to someday be able to save her from. You wanted her to come and live in your miniature, yet cosy townhouse you had inherited from your late father Richie, god bless his soul.

Seeing her so frail and lonely, woke a sadness inside you that hadn't long gone away, however that sadness also carried a fuckton of guilt. The guilt of knowing that if you had actually, fully prepared for what you were getting into, perhaps you could have saved Billy Hargrove, Max's eyesight (and her sanity), along with her family.

CLONK, you pull on the door handle to the driver's side door and hop inside before taking one last pitiful glance at the hospice. "I'll be back for you...Max," you mutter.

You turn the rusty key into the ignition. The engine fires to life.

.•.•.•

Days had passed and now you were sitting, pondering in your office inside your humble abode. Max hadn't left your mind since your previous visit and you were thinking through the idea that has floated into your noggin and is actively refusing to leave.

A THUD snaps you out of your daydreams and you quickly glance up from your oak-stained desk to see the culprit who dropped four thick textbooks in front of you, stacked on top of one another. You groan when you realise that it's just Robin, the nosy librarian-now-assistant with a child-like grin on her face. 'Oh, she's up to something' you thought, rolling your eyes before asking- "What is it now, Roberto?" you ask, intrigued as you sit up in your seat.

"I think I may have a case for you, Psychic Sally." she grins smugly, pulling a picture of a young boy out of her pocket.

Now that caught your attention.

"Tell me everything."

And she does, she tells you about how a 'Joyce Byers' had called several times today whilst you were out buying groceries begging to speak with you, for your help and assistance as she believes something is gravely wrong with her 11-year-old boy Will and has been ever since they moved into their house two weeks ago with her fiance, Bob.

She claimed a fever, a change in behaviour, sickness and bruising randomly appearing all over his body seemingly coming from nowhere. OH! And not to mention whatever 'entity' is wreaking havoc among them is causing a putrid, rotten smell to linger throughout the entire house...and her dog suddenly died the first night living there after it refused to enter the home.

You were going to visit the Byers' residence...but not alone.

You had somebody to visit.

"Call Father Steve and tell him I need to speak with him immediately, please Robin," you demand, sighing nervously. as your right foot begins to shake uncontrollably under the table.

"Are you sure that's a...I...uhhh-yes! yes, I will go and do that for you right now, if that's...are you sure that's what you want to do because you know I can totally-" she rambles, her voice high-pitched and unsure.

You can't find words so you nod repeatedly, sporting a polite smile and motion at the door. She nervously laughs, gulping "Ha ha ha ha, well! I am just gonna - yep! Haha! Going," she begins to back out of the room pointing to the door, "going..." she reaches the handle before forcibly chuckling, "and gone!" she shuts the door and you can hear her scold "What the hell is wrong with you?...freak!! god...how do I still have this job?"

.•.•.•

"God...how do I still have this job?" Robin questions, huffing embarrassedly. She treks down the terracotta-painted hallway, full of plants and pictures of who Robin had learned to have been your late father. She had found that out accidentally on the first day of moving in with you when she asked, "Is that your husband?" which sparked a very awkward, tense conversation that you both had very quickly laughed off.

She had reached the coffee-coloured door with the cream handle and twisted it, opening the door to her room- filled with posters of Molly Ringwald, Phoebe Cates, Lisa Bonet, Madonna you name it and she had it!!

Full of purpose she sits on her side of the bed, cross-legged and grabs the telephone from her bedside table and dials Father Steve's number carefully before knawing on her lip and impending an answer.

The phone rings a good three times before there's an answer.

"Hello?"

A/N - Hi babies!! how was that?! I know it wasn't the longest but its just to give the story a good push before we really dive into the plot and have some fun. Poor Max :(( SHE DESERVES BETTER!! and poor Chester, such a sweet dog.

LMK how you found this chapter!!

current taglist: @stveharringtn

comment to be added loves :))

[hawkeified]

The Things that Lurk. Chapter One.

Slow burn Steve Harrington x Newby daughter.

Julie Newby was a normal girl. Attending School, worrying about Chemistry tests, working at the Hawk Theatre with her best friend. Until Will Byers disappeared, and everything changed. And her life would never be the same.

November 6th 1983

Julie Newby was a simple girl. In a simple town. Hawkins, Indiana was slow, quiet, and incredibly boring. Uneventful. Nothing ever happened.

She was currently working a evening shift at the Hawk Theatre, busy serving fellow classmates. Her work colleague, and best friend, Robin Buckley, was actively chatting about her dream of seeing Europe, and what she dubbed operation croissant. Julie adored Robin with all her heart, and was grateful for a friend like her.

Julie stocked up the candy options, as Robin refilled the popcorn containers, so they were ready for the next day. Once everything had been tidied, and cleaned, the two friends clocked out, and headed outside the cinema.

Julie checked her watch, and sighed. 8:30pm.

‘See you tomorrow Rob.’ Julie hugged her friend, ‘Get home safe’ Julie squeezed her friend’s hands softly, before moving back towards her bike.

‘You ready for Mr Kapinsky’s test tomorrow?’ Robin asked. Julie groaned, causing Robin to laugh. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be’

Robin and Julie both cycled to work, as neither had their license yet, but both lived in opposite directions of Hawkins.

Robin lived on Mt Sinai Street, with her hippy parents, as an only child. Julie, on the other hand, lived next door to the Hendersons on Cornwallis. She often babysat Dustin to earn extra cash if needed, but Julie didn’t actually need the money because she adored that kid.

The bike ride home was long, and spooky. Something felt off. Unusual. Julie squinted, and noticed a small figure in the distance. The full moon in the sky shadowed the figure in darkness.

Will Byers passed Julie, and smiled at her. Will was a shy, soft little boy, who loved to colour and play games, such as dungeons and dragons.

Will peddled on, towards his home. Towards what he thought was safety. Julie heard a loud noise, and Will’s tiny whimper behind her, and Julie braked hard. She turned around, looking, but the road was completely empty.

‘Will?’ ‘Will?’ Julie called out. No reply. Just the November night breeze whistling.

Julie frowned concerned, but as the wind blew harder and colder, Julie decided to head home. She shivered against the cold wind, and gripped her bike handles tighter.

Finally, she managed to make it home to the two bed, two bath house, where she lived with her father Bob Newby.

Julie was the product of a short lived fling between the young unmarried couple. Her mother Mary Fredericks, was only 18 when she had Julie, and died in a car accident when Julie was 3. So her dad was all she had ever known. And she wouldn’t change it for the whole world.

‘dad. I’m home’ Julie called out, closing the front door.

‘hey pumpkin, how was school and work?’ her dad’s voice sounded from the kitchen. Julie smiled, as she placed her bike keys in the bowl by the front door.

‘It was good dad, same old same old. How was your day?’

Bob answered her question, and proceeded to give her a hug. ‘Goodnight pumpkin. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Night dad.’ Julie spoke as Bob entered into his bedroom.

Julie picked up the phone and called the Byers household. Ring, Ring… Ring, Ring… Ring, Ring… hi, you’ve reached the Byers family, we aren’t hear right now, please leave a message.’ Joyce’s sweet voice was transmitted through the speaker. Julie sighed, and hung up the phone. Will is fine. He’s fine. Julie thought. God I hope he’s fine.

Little did she know that he wasn’t. And this was just the beginning.

Julie Newby was a simple girl. In a simple town. Hawkins, Indiana was slow, quiet, and incredibly boring. Uneventful. Nothing ever happened. Until it did. And Julie’s life was forever changed, in both good and bad ways.

author notes:

thank you, thank you, for reading. this is my first time publishing my writing, and I���m excited to share Julie’s story, and how she interacts with the other characters. Any likes, re blogs and comments are greatly appreciated, thank you 🥰

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S2:E6; Chapter Six, The Spy - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

will's connection to a shadowy evil grows stronger, but no one's quite sure how to stop it. elsewhere, steve and dustin forge an unlikely bond.

WARNINGS: descriptions of v*miting, but it should only the very first paragraph here, and the flashback paragraphs designated under "DEC 1983" I believe.. Just in case you feel it best you need to skip!

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Dr. Owens peaks his head in the door uneasily, where, inside, Hopper sits on the edge of the bench hunched over a bucket. He is still in the gown the lab had provided, his new pair of scrubs still sitting folded and untouched to his left on the bench. Another retch is torn from his strained throat as his insides empty into the bucket. Owens fights a grimace and clears his throat announcing his presence.

"All right, cowboy, good news." He steps inside, his assistant behind him. "We're giving you the green light. How're you feeling?"

Hopper, still shaky and weak from his night in the tunnels and the full hose down from the medical team, turns to give the doctor an exaggerated grin.

"Never better." Says Hopper through gritted teeth.

"All right, well, we got a present for ya," Owens says, letting the sarcasm roll off his back.

The assistant steps forward, a folded hazmat suit in his hands. Hopper attempts no such efforts to hide his grimace at the sight.

"The hell is that?"

"Uh, something you should see."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The heart monitor beats steadily as Will sleeps, color has begun to return to his cheeks but it is scarce. Mike is tucked under a blanket, fast asleep in the bedside chair while Joyce and Bob speak in hushed whispers in the corner. Joyce had, for the most part, filled in Bob on the events of the past year.

"They made me sign, like, a thousand documents. I mean... we all had to. We had to! I mean, I lost track at a certain point. They're gonna make you do the same. I'm sure."

Bob nods, his eyes returning to Joyce after lingering worriedly on Will.

"Yeah. Well, hey, whatever."

There's a brief pause as Joyce gauges his reaction suspiciously, surprised by his shockingly relaxed demeanor. Finally, Bob speaks.

"What kind of documents?"

"Uh, confidentiality, and there were these official forms saying, like, nothing ever happened, which is why..."

Bob steps towards Will's bed, clarity written on his face.

"...Will got lost in the woods."

"Yeah."

Bob shakes his head, the wave of shock finally crashing over him in full.

"Man, I always thought stuff like this happened in movies and comic books. Certainly not in Hawkins," He returns to Joyce's side. "and certainly not to someone like you."

Joyce nudges Bob. "Or you."

"Yeah," he chuckles, quirking a brow. "Bob Newby, superhero."

The pair share a smile, but it does not last long before it fizzles out in the unresolved tension in the air. Joyce notes the shivers shaking Bob's body and throws him a concerned glance.

"You cold?"

"Just a little jitters, I guess." He says, drawing the blanket around his shoulders closer. "Hey, don't you start worrying about me. Okay? I'm fine. I'm fine."

Joyce nods in understanding, though she can't quite seem to shake the worry.

"It's not like you didn't warn me. 'This is not a normal family.' Isn't that what you said?"

The ends of her lips curl into a weak smile, a deflated chuckle escaping her. Bob soon joins in, gesturing to Will.

"You weren't kidding."

There's another thick pause, and Bob takes a silent breath before returning to a familiar subject.

"It kinda makes my idea of moving to Maine sound a little less crazy, right?"

"Oh, it... it's not crazy at all." She reassures.

A warm smile tugs at his lips and Joyce can feel the effects of his contagious charm, a smirk coming onto her face as well. But the moment quickly slips away at the sound of a familiar voice stirring from the bed.

"Mom?"

The couple is quick to join his side, and Bob enters the hall in a beat calling for the doctor. Joyce reaches him in no time, her palm reaching out for her son to stroke his cold cheek.

"Sweetie, how are you feeling? You okay?"

Bob steps back into the room, leaving the door ajar and Mike stirs awake at the small commotion.

"Okay, they're on their way," Bob says, joining Joyce's side, and gives Will a warm smile. "Hey."

Will frowns at his mother, gesturing to Bob.

"Who is that?"

Joyce chuckles nervously, and worry quickly settles into everyone's chest.

"What?" Joyce asks.

"It's me, big guy. It's Bob."

His palm extends to meet Will's, to give him a reassuring tap on the arm but Will pulls away reluctantly. There is suspicion and fear in his eyes as he inspects the man for what looks to be the first time.

"Are you a... doctor?"

The tension in the air rises, but Bob tries to push through it. Joyce and Mike only watch the exchange with great worry.

"No. No, it's just me. Just... just Bob."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Lucas coasts down Old Cherry Road, his heart rate climbing steadily. As he approaches, his ears perk up at the muffled rock music blasting from inside one of the many houses. He knows this is the one he has been looking for when he recognizes the car Max had climbed into many times. And more importantly, the one that nearly ran him and his friends over.

Inside, Billy hardly fights the anger rising in his chest at the doorbell that keeps ringing. He continues his set, his fuse shortening when it goes unanswered. With an angered grunt, he drops the bar and grabs his cigarette from his lips.

"Max, are you getting that or what?" He roars.

An impressive huff escaped her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head briefly in disdain.

"Okay!" She snaps, chucking her half-taped board on her mattress before standing.

The doorbell rings once more, and not a second later Billy continues to berate her.

"I swear to God, Max!"

She stomps down the hall in a fury, making an effort to glare menacingly at her stepbrother in a last act of defiance. She moves swiftly around his equipment, hair flying behind her as her speed increases with every frantic ring of the doorbell. She rips the door open, expecting to deal with another noise complaint from Billy's music that would somehow get her in trouble. To her surprise, it wasn't. The sight Max finds on her front porch is much worse.

To her horror, Lucas, flashing her a tiny, sheepish smile. And completely unsuspecting of her brother and his malicious, bigoted ways only a few feet away. It sinks Max's heart right into her stomach. She knows if he is caught here, there was no telling what Billy would do to him. Her head whips around to the living room, grateful Billy has his back turned. Quickly, she steps outside closing the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses.

Her voice is urgent and hushed, and oh how she hates that Billy holds this power over her. The power to make her feel unsafe in her own home, the power to make her fear for other people's safety no matter where she is.

"I have proof," Lucas says, not without a trace of excitement.

"What?"

"Proof that what I told you was real. But we have to hurry."

"What kind of proof? Y/n proof, or something-I'm-gonna-regret-seeing-later proof?"

Lucas winced.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

With a half-hearted grunt, Billy places the weights back on the rack and sits up. He takes one long drag of his cigarette before exhaling, his attention returning to the front door. He realizes he hasn't heard any conversation and when he sees he is alone-no sign of the nuisance he called a step-sister, and a closed front door-he knows Max is up to no good. In his eyes, she isn't. He rises from the bench and stalks forward towards the door, taking a swig from his beer can and placing it on the mantle just as the door swings open.

Max slips inside through the small gap she created in the doorway, quick to close the door the moment she was inside. As if on autopilot, she stomps through the living room-not very far-before she halts suddenly in her tracks. Billy is blocking off the entryway, his shoulders squared and a fixed glare on her-clearly unafraid of reminding her the many physical advantages he had over her. She jumps, not expecting his presence but she does well to hide it.

"Who the hell were you talking to?" He asks with venom.

Max collects herself, her eyes struggle not to dart around the room and he notes the uneasy twitch in her brow line.

"Mormons."

A sick smile tugs at his lips, a smirk made of a mix of disgust and triumph. He can almost laugh at her pathetic lie. Almost.

"Mormons?"

She nods, a rising sense of confidence in her tone that makes it harder for him to confront her.

"Talkative ones."

With that, she slips past him and makes a swift exit to her room. He stares after her, the gears turning in his head but he can't quite pin anything on her yet, much to his chagrin. He heads for the door, ripping it open as she did moments ago and steps onto the empty porch. His eyes scan the street but he sees no sign of anyone, just an empty lawn and others like them up and down the road. His jaw clenches, his anger flickering inside him more but he shoves it away for now, and heads back inside.

Meanwhile, Max reaches her room, closing her door behind her and making her way to her window. She's gets it open in record time-and perfect silence. Just as she had instructed, Lucas awaits outside her window, his movements urgent as he beckons her down.

"Come on, hop on!"

Max quickly climbs through the window, her feet planting on the small landing just below and jumps onto the grass. She quickly takes a seat behind Lucas, grabbing his shoulders she leans around him to speak.

"This better be good, stalker."

In a matter of moments, the pair is off. Silently, they slip around the back of the house and disappear down the road.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The yellow beam of light shifts from eye to eye and Will does his best to ignore the flash of negatives his brain sees. He is surrounded by somewhat familiar faces. He does not understand the fuss being made, his mother and friend he recognizes but now there was a strange man in scrubs that stayed behind. Bob. He wasn't sure why he was being treated like this.

"Do you know your name?" The doctor asks.

"Will."

"Your full name?" He asks, tucking the flashlight into his breast pocket.

"William Byers." He says simply.

"Do you know... Do you know who I am?"

Will thinks for a moment, the question obvious and unnecessary.

"A doctor."

Will tries to ignore the fact that he is surrounded by a medical team that watches him studiously. He does all he can to focus his attention on the doctor before him, and answer his questions but he can't help but start to doubt his own sanity. Or at least the sanity of everyone around him. Was he supposed to have known everyone circling him now?

"Have we met before?" The doctor asks.

Will's brow fell into a crease, he shakes his head simply.

"I don't remember."

"Hmm."

Elsewhere, a large team of staff assigned to the Byers case watches the feed with intrigue. The live footage from Byers' room is displayed on one of many monitors and they watch, paying close attention to the quizzical and unexpected turn the boy has taken.

"You don't remember me?" They hear Owens ask.

They see the boy shake his head, and Owens nods.

"Okay," he extends an arm and points in Mike's direction. "How about, uh... How about this guy here?"

Mike shifts uneasily, his heart pounding against his chest as his best friend slowly turns to look at him. Nervously, he retracts one hand from his pocket and waves weakly before returning to the comfort of the is pocket. He suddenly felt silly for it, but the fear quickly won out. His fingers fumble anxiously with the loose thread from the shoddy stitching as he waits for answer.

Will does not answer immediately, his eyes are darker and his gaze is distant and detached.

"That's okay, take your time," Owens assures.

The look in his eyes bothers Mike, and the longer Will neglects to speak the longer eternity seems to stretch on. Never, not even once has Mike seen this look on Will. He is not himself, and he fears the worst. The ghost of their conversation at the Byers house being shoved to the back of his mind as it creeps up. Not himself. He isn't frowning, like Will usually does when he is stumped. His brow isn't furrowed, and there is no sign that he is frustrated by his stump. He just... stares. All emotions devoid from his features and he is much too calm. Finally, he speaks.

"That's my friend." He says slowly. "Mike."

Mike doesn't fight the breath of relief, but he can't help but think that their troubles were far from over.

The next person to speak is the tallest man in the room, Will notes. He had joined them not long ago and had stuck by his mother's side. He smiles weakly, but he can tell that for the man, it is genuine.

"What about me, kid? You remember me?"

His attention slowly shifts to the tall man, and he searches his brain, what's left of the foggy memories that have only grown clouded and dark in the past few hours. But he sees nothing, nothing about this tall, bearded man and he shakes his head. He recognizes the look of disappointment and worry, but he quickly tries to bury it.

"They tell me you helped save me last night. You remember that?"

Will shakes his head once more. His attention is once again shifted to the doctor at his bedside.

"Do you remember anything about last night? About what happened?"

Will feels a twinge of anger, and the ghost of the pain from the previous night ignites his memory.

"I remember they hurt me."

《•••》

Will collapsed to the ground in agony. Mike dropped to the ground quickly after him, grasping his friend trying to get him to calm. But it was no use. Will was now lying on the grass, his entire body felt like it was on fire. His vision was as white as the white-hot searing pain running through his veins.

《•••》

Joyce winces at the memory, her stomach turning and her palm reaches to her face, her fingers massaging her temples. She feels Bob's hand reach her back and pat her soothingly in an attempt to calm her.

"You mean the doctors?" Owens asks.

His eyes still dark and blank-his composure flat and calculated-he shakes his head.

"No," he says, his tiny voice as dark as his eyes. No one had seen the boy so still. "The soldiers."

《•••》

The figure, who had been properly equipped, aimed his device and a violent spurt of fire erupted from the end. The vines writhed and shrieked violently as they shriveled up.

《•••》

"The soldiers hurt you?"

Will blinks slowly, the first he has in a while and his voice grows hoarse and angered. He is enraged-betrayed-the darkness clouding his usual hazel green eyes and now they seem almost black. His tone only sends spikes of fear into the hearts of those who are closest to Will. And it only reminds Mike of the previous day, when Will had forced Y/n away.

When Will spoke, Mike felt a familiar chill run down his spine. And only now does he recognize the tone in Will's voice. How it held no emotion and he seemed so distant. And cold.

Not himself.

Mike felt as if he was reliving that moment over, but the only difference was the person who hurt him. Or something inside him.

"They shouldn't have done that." Says Will, darkly. His pale face slowly slips into a scowl, a threatening glance anyone would be unsettled by and his voice grew more venomous.

"It upset him."

The blood was pounding in Mike's ears by now, and on instinct he finds himself looking to Mrs. Byers. But all she can focus on is her son. Or rather, what looked like her son. What used to be. Mike had to shake the dark thoughts from his mind, but he couldn't help but blame himself. He had already slipped into this state before, why hadn't he done more? Talked to Mrs. Byers? Tell him how he changed so briefly but drastically right before his eyes? At least he managed to break free from it last time. But now... now things were different.

All he can manage to do for now is watch as Owens takes a photograph from a file folder that sits on the bed, he hands it to Will who takes it.

"You say, "Upset him." Is that him?"

Will's darkened eyes trail up from the picture and meet the man's eyes. He merely nods, and even though no words are spoken aloud, the room is hit with another dreadful chill. Owens takes the photograph back and sets it on the folder as he looks around the room.

"Okay, I want to try something." He instructs. "It's gonna seem a little odd at first, but I think it's really gonna help us understand what's going on."

He gently places a hand on Will's shoulder, sending a reassuring look to the boy as best as he could manage.

Will's eyes flicker to the hand on his shoulder. He tries to ignore the small but uncomfortable body heat from his palm, and he tries even harder to stifle the anger. It reminds him of the boy-the threat-and what he did, how he hurt Will. He pushes the memory aside and looks to the man, nodding.

"Okay."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The steel cart jostles as it crosses the bumpy threshold of the room, a glass case with no lid sits on top. Inside, a loose tentacle collected from the tunnels. Hopper quickly recognized the thing, and he felt his insides twist in knots, alarms going off in his head. He had only just been shown the lab's secret, he couldn't say he was surprised but Owens and his team had just taken them underground. Where they had their very own, private access to the tunnels he had previously been trapped in.

He had been assured they were monitoring it, but it all felt like a load of crap to him. He shifts on his feet as he watches it all unfold.

"Now, Will," Owens begins. "I want you to just let us know if you feel anything. Okay?"

He nods once more, and Owens gives the assistant the all-clear. The blowtorch in his hands flick on, a steady hiss emanates from the strong flame and the man slowly lowers it inside the case. Will stares wide-eyed as the blue flame is lowered, his breathing hitches and speeds up. Short and ragged, and his face has already begun to pale.

The creature begins to hiss. Its dark violet body begins to write against the steel, leaving behind strings of slime. It shrinks back, clearly in pain. The others watch, their attention breaking from Will to the heart monitor he is hooked up to. Beeping increases as his heartbeat picks up.

"Do you feel anything?"

Will's breath hitches, his face twitching in pain. He begins to stammer as he fidgets.

"Little sting."

"It stings. Where?"

The flame lowers further and Will shifts on the mattress, his left hand suddenly clutching his heart. His face contorts in pain, and his cold demeanor has begun to melt into pain.

"My chest." He whimpers.

"Okay, son." He mumbles, patting his arm but he makes no effort to stop.

Joyce reaches out and places a gentle hand on his leg from the end of the bed and begins to mumble encouraging thoughts and showing her concern and support. After a determined and swift nod from the man, the assistant nods and lowers the flame. Everything immediately intensifies, the heart monitor beeps faster, the creature squeals turn to shrieks and Will begins to writhe, clutching desperately at his chest.

"How about now?" He asks urgently.

Will begins to choke on air, he is desperately trying to speak through the pain but he can barely manage the words.

"It... It burns."

Dr. Owens only grows more intense, he leans forward in the slightest as his bushy brows furrow. The flame lowers further and it nearly touches the creature. It cries in agony and so does Will.

"Ah! It burns!"

"Where?"

Another screech and Will gasps for breath, he chokes on his words but he manages a scream that tears through his scalding chest.

"Everywhere!"

The flames lick at its slimy, moist and sizzling skin and it ignites a deafening, agonizing scream from Will. Joyce's face hardens and she begins to shout.

"That's enough. That's enough!"

Will's cries climb higher and louder and within moments it's just as he was when they brought him in. The assistant does nothing and the flame continues to burn the flesh of the creature. Will shifts feverishly on the bed, his head rolling back as he shrieks at the sky. His agonizing cries pierce Joyce's ears and stab at her heart. She continues to try and stop their efforts but her voice is drowned out in Will's screams and even then they ignore her. Hopper jumps in, separating Will from Owens and throws his arms out and he roars at them viciously.

"Stop! You heard her! That's enough!"

The flame retracts and the man shrinks back as the creature does. Patches of its skin are burned away, showing pinkish and inflamed skin, and Will gasps for breath. Hopper stands over the boy protectively and himself as Joyce sends deadly stares to every staff member.

"That's it! We're done!" Hopper barks.

The rooms falls silent and every staff member squirms uncomfortably. Joyce sets aside her fury and redirects her attention to her boy. Soothingly, she pats his leg-the only place she can reach from the end of the bed-and whispers encouraging words.

"Sweetie... Sweetie. It's okay."

Will visibly relaxes, his breathing is still harsh and spotty. He pants heavily, and the heart monitor gradually slows. The creature's wails die down to a ragged hiss and everyone looks around the room.

Owens ushers Joyce and Hopper outside to the hall where they now speak in hushed whispers.

"Our best guess right now is it's some kind of virus which is causing this neurological disorder." The man explains. "Now, when... when a typical virus attaches itself to the host..."

《•••》

── DEC. 1983 ──

Will grips the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white as he feels a gag shake his body. He lurches forward over the sink as nausea coils tightly around his stomach. He can feel movement traveling up his throat, and something tells him it's not vomit. A disgusting salty taste travels across his tongue and he watches in horror and disgust as a thick slug-like creature hits the bottom of the sink with a shuddering 'plop'.

Will manages to keep his coughs stifled, hopefully his mother and brother do not hear him from the dining room table. His stomach plummets, not only in disgust that this thing was living inside him but also fear. It slithers towards the drain, leaving a trail of paled green slime in its tracks.

《•••》

"...it duplicates, right? It spreads, essentially hijacking the host."

Joyce winces at the man's words, and once more do her fingers reach her temples and rub fixed circles as he continues.

"A virus is alive. It has an intelligence."

《•••》

Will was panting heavily, but he slowly turned around coming face to face with the monster. It towered over the school, looking directly at Will.

《•••》

"That's not... That's not unusual." Owens pauses with a frown, gesturing down the hall. "What is so unusual here, this virus... the infected hosts seem to be communicating."

《•••》

The figure, who had been properly equipped, aimed his device and a violent spurt of fire erupted from the end. The vines writhed and shrieked violently as they shriveled up.

At that exact moment, Will-who had been waiting worriedly outside as the army of men surrounded and descended after his mother and Bob-collapsed to the ground.

•••

Will convulsed uncontrollably, his limbs on fire, spreading as rapidly as the flames in the hub below. As the vines screamed in agony, Will screamed too. He was now on his back, screaming violently into the night. Mike jumped back startled, watching helplessly in horror as his best friend writhed in the grass, his mouth wide open and his eyes rolled back into his head as he shrieked in agony.

《•••》

"It has some sort of hive intelligence, and it's connecting all the hosts."

《•••》

The monster bellowed, and one large tentacle began twirling down onto the ground, the size of a small tornado. The swirling gust of black fog engulfed Will.

•••

Dart looked up from his meal and faced a horrified Dustin, his long slimy tail flicking back and forth. He roared, causing his head to open up, hundreds of bloodied teeth showing as any other Demogorgon would.

•••

The flame lowers further and it nearly touches the creature, it cries in agony and so does Will.

《•••》

"The good news is a virus can be cured. We... We're gonna continue to run tests. We're gonna see what we find."

Joyce shakes her head in disbelief and fights back her tears as she speaks.

"What happens when he can't remember anything? W-When there's nothing else there?" She steps forward towards the man, who once again grows uneasy. "What happens when my boy is gone?"

The man stands dumbfounded and without an answer. Joyce brings a trembling hand to her quivering lip, choking back sobs at the horrendous thought. She feels helpless like there's nothing she can do. And she loathes it.

[ebaylee422]

Requests are still open until i get some interaction with followers. We're gonna do a weekly poll! I have a birthday Eddie munson smut posting on April 2nd but what would you like on Monday?!

[keerysfreckles]

homesick — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve drives to y/n's house after an alley fight with jonathan byers

warnings: s1 steve, some cursing, not proofread!

a/n: this is for aly and aly only if you're not aly pls look away rn ! @keerysbrowneyes (also ignore the date the song came out at the end i just wanted to use it)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

to say y/n had a long day would be putting it lightly. her job at radioshack started off smoothly two weeks ago, but now almost every customer has been pissing her off.

she's tried to be a good employee, wanting to empress her boss bob newby. but when every person she's dealt with does nothing but complain to her, and tell her how she should do her job, y/n started thinking about putting in her two weeks notice.

every day this week y/n's gone home to an empty house at 4 pm. her parents were visiting her relatives in california, but y/n said missing two weeks of school and work would be complete hell. which explains why she's been home alone for 5 days.

her daily routine was finishing normally as she pulled into her driveway, throwing her radioshack nametag in her glove compartment, before grabbing her backpack.

she sighed stepping into the quiet house. it was just her, her mother and her father, so it was normal the house was quiet. but knowing no one was there to greet her put a damper in her mood.

after throwing her backpack somewhere in the living room, y/n managed to find two slices of pizza from god knows where.

a car pulling up in her driveway took her focus away from the microwave. her parents weren't supposed to be home till next week, so who could be the mystery driver?

a familiar red bmw was crookedly parked in front of y/n's house.

y/n opened the door just as the driver went to knock, his curled hand frozen in the air.

"steve?"

y/n looks up at her old friend, bruised and beaten. blood dried around his eye, nose and lips, his eyebrows are furrowed in what she could only guess was hurt and anger.

y/n and steve haven't gotten along the best ever since he stopped being her friend. he'd rather hang out with tommy hagan and carol perkins. it was more than a stab in the heart to y/n when he ditched her on the first day of their sophomore year, over a year ago.

"what are- shit are you okay?" y/n leans forward to hold his head in her hands, examining the damage done to his skin.

"i didn't know where else to go," his voice sounds as fragile as a glass bottle. it could break any moment and he was worried no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

y/n noticed the waver in his words, causing the girl to bring him into a tight hug.

her arms wrapped around his neck, embracing him as he held her waist. he shoved his face into her neck, muffling the light cries falling from his eyes.

"you're okay, you're okay steve," y/n mumbles into the air, as she runs her fingers over the hair at the base of his neck.

steve shook softly in her arms. y/n does nothing but hold him closer.

she doesn't care that her front door is open. she doesn't care if people from her neighborhood are staring. she doesn't care if she has to stay like this all night.

all she wanted was for steve to be okay.

after minutes, steve let go of y/n. he wiped he eyes, before remembering one of them was severely injured. he hisses at the pain his touch causes.

y/n lets him inside, shutting the door behind the pair.

"you go ahead and shower. wash some of the blood out of your hair, okay?" y/n's voice is calm as steve nods.

he knows her house like the back of his hand. after being here so many times in the past, he walks down the hall to the last room on the right, immediately turning on the shower.

y/n's quick to grab a towel before walking to her room. she pulls open the all too familiar drawer.

the drawer filled with steve's clothes.

ever since freshman year, whenever steve stayed over he always ended up leaving an article of clothing almost every time he left. so over the span of two years, there were about five and a half different outfits in the bottom drawer of y/n's grey dresser.

she grabbed a pair of sweatpants and old gym tshirt, hoping they'd fit him.

hearing the water still running, she quietly opens the door, placing both the towel and clean clothes onto the counter.

minutes pass before steve turns off the water. his heart warms at the sight of clean clothes on the counter, and he notices his dirty clothes were gone off the floor.

he's extra careful when drying off his hair, and makes sure to be gentle around his face.

a knock makes him jump slightly.

"are you alright?" y/n asks, "i uh- found some medical supplies from my parents room. i think i can help with your cuts."

steve opens the door, and he swears his heart melts again at the sight of y/n. she's holding a small container filled with medical supplies just like she said. she had a certain look in her eyes, one steve couldn't quite recognize.

"do you-" steve let his question trail off as he pointed from the bathroom then towards her room.

"bathroom's fine," she replies, watching as he sits down on the closed toilet.

she starts sifting through the box of supplies, hoping to find at least one thing that could help with steve's injuries.

"so what did you do to get yourself all beat up?" y/n finally asks.

steve doesn't look at her, instead focusing on the tiled floor beneath his feet.

"i said shit that made jonathan pissed," steve doesn't even have to look at y/n to know she's sending him a scolding look. "if i could take back what i said i would."

y/n starts taking a wipe to get off any dried blood steve missed in the shower. she holds his face, making him look up at her.

"would you take it back if he never heard it? or would you just take it back since you told him?"

steve's silence is the only answer y/n needs to prove her point.

she hears small sounds coming from steve as she finishes wiping the blood. she continues apologizing, not wanting to hurt him more fhan he already is.

"why are you being so nice to me?"

his question catches y/n off gaurd. her movements pause as her hand hovers over his face with a bandaid for his nose.

"you came to me when you were hurting. is it so bad i want to help you?"

y/n continues working to patch up steve's face, while his silence gives her the answer she needs once more.

just as she places the last bandaid on his chin, steve speaks up.

"thank you, really. i don't know anyone else who would help me with this."

"of course steve," she sends him a soft smile. she checks one last time over his face, making sure she didn't miss anything.

y/n throws any trash on the counter away, letting steve stand and inspect her work in the mirror.

as y/n walks back to the bathroom, she pokes her head in the doorframe. she studies his face for a moment. watching his fingers trace over the fresh bandaids. she watched as his hair slightly moved with every turn of his head.

steve notices the girl standing behind him, making a switch flip in her head, suddenly reminding her what she was going to ask.

"do you want to stay for a little? i could try and find an ice pack for your eye."

steve nods, making y/n lead him towards the living room. he's quick to sit in the couch, finally feeling the stress and worry leave his shoulders.

he starts picking at his fingernails, looking around the all too familiar living room. there were still pictures up of y/n as a baby. even a few more pictures were added as she went through high school.

"okay i don't have any ice packs, but i found this," steve turns his head, chuckling at the bright red coca cola can in her hands.

steve lets his eyes stay on y/n. he notices her hairs gotten slightly darker in the past year. her freckles are less prominent. her eyes seem more dull.

he looks up at her hoping she can notice he wants to be saved. wants to be saved by her. saved from the assholes he hangs out with now. saved from the stress of high school. saved from it all.

as steve hasn't taken the can, y/n sits beside him on the couch and holds it gently over the bandaid around his eye.

a small blush creeps its way onto steve's cheeks. y/n notices.

the two sit in a comfortable silence, as y/n turns the can from time to time so the coldest part is always on steve's bruised face.

"i think you kind of deserved it."

steve's eyebrows furrow as he turns to look at y/n. her monotone expression only confuses him more.

"what?"

"losing the fight to jonathan."

"i never said i lost–"

y/n simply ignores him, "maybe his punches finally knocked some sense into you."

steve might consider himself an idiot sometimes, but he knew what y/n meant. he curses at himself every day for why he ditched the girl sitting next to him.

"i don't even know why i did it."

y/n's silence made him continue.

"i guess i hated feeling so small in school. so i started talking to the people i thought were cool. it's dumb believe me, i know," steve leans forward to run his hand through his hair.

it's a nervous tick steve picked up over the years. one y/n recognized.

she simply reached her other hand to his own, rubbing her thumb over his palm.

"you're still the same steve i know," y/n's voice is quiet. "you may have a bigger ego and be an asshole sometimes. but you're still the boy who danced with me at the snow ball when no one else would."

"you know," steve's voice seemed brighter as an idea popped into his head. "i still owe you a full dance."

"what do you mean?" y/n laughed, "you already danced with me. at the snow ball."

"not for the whole thing. if i can recall i swooped in to save the day probably halfway through the song."

y/n can only laugh again while watching steve start searching through the limited record selection in the living room.

"what are you even looking for?"

steve holds out his pointer finger, before running towards y/n's room, not satisfied with any choices from the living room.

seconds pass until steve's back in the living room, with a record in hand.

y/n tries peering over his arm to see which one he grabbed, before he slid the disc out and put it into the record player.

the familiar beginning to our last summer by abba began playing.

"steve, this isn't even a slow dance type of song," y/n tries to argue, but steve only grabs her hands to pull her up off the couch.

"i don't care, i still owe you a dance," he then places both hands on her hips. "plus i know this is one of your favorite songs."

y/n smiles up at him while holding onto his shoulders as the two sway side to side.

"you remember that?"

steve nods, "of course. i could never forget anything about you."

y/n feels the blush brushing her cheeks now as she looks down at her feet, trying to hide her nerves.

as the song progressed, steve and y/n continued swaying slowly. after seconds of internally debating to herself, y/n leans forward to press her head against his chest.

she lets all the anger and hurt for steve seep out of her. each sway the boy creates, a pound of regret leaves y/n's body.

she swears she can hear his heartbeat pick up at their close contact, but she doesn't mention this, only smiling to herself.

steve's breath quickens for a split second as y/n's head rests on him. he reaches his hand up to hold the back of her head, rubbing his thumb slightly. he kisses the top of her head, only making y/n wish it was humanly possible to become closer to steve.

"y/n," steve's voice is low a rough, he worries she didn't hear it.

she removes her head from his chest to look up at him. his hand stays on the back of her head, pushing only slightly, giving her the reason to back up if she pleases.

she doesn't back up. in fact she leans foward whether it be because of steve's touch or not. she doesn't want to back up.

in a matter of seconds steve's lip press against y/n's. the cut on his bottom lip stings slightly, but he couldn't care less about the pain. if kissing y/n made his lip sting, he would still kiss her a thousand times.

y/n's hands grip his shoulders tighter, trying to push him closer as they both deepen the kiss.

y/n begins to pull back, needing a second to regain her lost breath that was stolen by steve. however the brunette doesn't allow it, pulling the girl back in for another kiss.

her hands move to his neck. her fingers begin pulling at the hair, eliciting a small breathy moan from steve.

it caught y/n off gaurd, making her pull away again.

the two silently share eye contact. their panted breaths are mingling with each others.

steve leans forward to kiss her again. his way of telling y/n he wants nothing more than her.

he can only guess she gets the idea, when she giggles at the feeling of steve picking her up off the ground to carry her to her own room.

y/n laugh is cut off by steve slamming her bedroom door behind the two, "you know no one's here right? you didn't have to close the door."

steve simply shrugs as he lays down on the bed above y/n.

their fourth kiss of many for the night begin to become more and more passionate.

y/n would be lying if she said she didn't want to sleep with steve. and steve vice versa with y/n. but they weren't about to admit that tonight.

[fairyysoup]

matters of taste

part one (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Not all trainees are great on the job. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson in a bakery, however? Absolutely unmatched.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, threesome - f/m/m, semi-public sex, workplace sex, car sex, handjobs, oral (f+m receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, spitroast, fluids play, dumbification, praise, degradation, implied masochism, mention of housewife kink, steve harrington has a big dick, enemies to lovers-ish but they're all crazy about each other let's be real\

a/n: this is my second time trying to repost this!! let's not talk about how ugly it looks ok i think the header is implying that reader is a sentient pie and honestly... yeah

It’s… you know what. It’s whatever. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

You pause midway through frosting some cinnamon rolls to watch one of the newbies wheeling a cart of mislabelled muffins past your decorating table. You strategically keep your voice void of inflection as you say, “Price stickers, Harrington.”

“FUCK!”

You watch Steve dramatically jostle the cart back around to wheel it toward the rack that contains the multitudes of different flavor and price stickers used in the bakery, swearing like a sailor the whole time. He collides with another cart, and slams it directly into your other trainee, Eddie Munson. 

“Shitshitshitshit shit-” Eddie curses and stumbles into a rolling rack of donuts. He grabs the rack before it can topple over, and succeeds in catching four trays of donuts when they fall out of their slots and into his arms. 

You roll your eyes at the spectacle the two of them create, which is quickly becoming the norm, and go back to stroking globs of cream cheese frosting across the cinnamon rolls in front of you. 

It’s not like they’re the world’s worst trainees or anything. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, or that they purposefully goes out of their way to make your job unnecessarily difficult or anything. It’s not like, together, they create the most chaotic and hazardous environment possible.

No, sir. Nothing to see here. No problems to be had. 

“‘You didn’t put the price stickers on, Steve-’” you hear Steve mocking you in a purposefully insulting falsetto, and give him a side-eye that you know he can’t see. “Mehmehmeh- ‘You didn’t put the bagels in properly. You didn’t frost the bundt cakes just right.’”

“‘You didn’t circumcise the bread bags,’” Eddie adds as he shoves the trays of smushed donuts back onto the rack and grabs a rag to wipe icing from his apron.

“Fucking what?” You turn to look at them fully, holding your frosting covered hands out in front of you.

“I don’t know!” Steve whirls around to sneer at you. His bubblegum pink uniform shirt is just about the same color as his face, rosy and flushed with the heat from the ovens and probably his climbing heart rate. “Why’s everything gotta be packaged differently? It’s just bread!”

“I don’t make the rules! Don’t argue with me and just do it!” That’s another thing. Steve’s just so argumentative, about everything. How you package things, how you wash the dishes, how you clean the floors at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Eddie won’t argue with you per-se, but the day he does something correctly will be the day pigs fly. It’s the most annoying fucking thing you’ve had to deal with at this job, and you’re stuck training them. 

It’s not a particularly hard job. You’re just clerks at Mimi’s Bakery, nothing is out of the realm of doability- it’s more of a stamina sport. You’re all closers, so that means a lot of packaging and a lot of cleaning, interspersed with helping some late afternoon and evening customers, within an eight hour shift. It isn’t very busy anymore, either; summer’s over, and you still have about a month until the holiday rushes start. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for them, but they’ve both been here for two weeks and still act like they were born yesterday.

Steve spends an extraordinarily long time putting the price tags on the packages of muffins- and putting them on crooked, anyway, so that the entire pile looks janky and rushed despite his slow pace. Eddie’s too busy wiping chocolate icing from his arms to notice Steve’s haphazard labeling. 

Your eyes trail the wet rag that Eddie drags across his skin, leaving behind only the ink from his tattoos for you to scrutinize. During the lull, the bakery’s PA system comically offsets the tension in the room with a generic old jazz standard. Your boss, Mimi Callaghan, has an enthusiasm for novelties from her youth- hence the confectionary shop-style pink pinstriped uniform dress you wear, and your clashing forest green apron just oozing with sex appeal. Steve looks like a knockoff Ken doll in his similar blouse and khakis, but he confessed to you on his first day that he used to work at the Scoops Ahoy in the old Hawkins Mall, so you assume he isn’t too phased by it. You’re not about to tell him that he makes it work. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like someone picked him up at the Local Smokes down the street and thrust him into the uniform against his will, like he’s not really supposed to be here. You hate that you find the weird juxtaposition of his tattoos to the pink and green uniform kind of hot.

“Don’t forget to face the shelves when you put them out,” you tell Steve as he pushes the cart past you again. 

Steve’s ears glow bright red. “I’ll put out something-”

“Suck my fucking nuts, Harrington, you wanna do the job right or not?”

Eddie cackles loudly as Steve turns around, but instead of glaring at you he just looks mildly amused, like Eddie’s hysterical laughter rubbed off on him. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh?”

“What?” You splutter, gloved hands flexing in the air and squishing frosting between your fingers. “Why- why’re you so fucking difficult? Put the goddamn muffins out, we don’t have all day-”

“I think she likes you, Harrington.” 

You squint at Eddie, still rubbing himself down leisurely with the rag, twisting his rings around his fingers idly even though he didn’t even get any icing on them. He leans against the counter with a smirk on his pretty pink lips like he thinks he’s done something. Like there can’t be another reason for why you’re so easily frustrated by Steve- by either of them, really. Like their lack of decorum or work ethic are completely out of the question, you guess, to his way of thinking. 

“Like him?” you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant as you go back to smacking cream cheese frosting across the pans of pastries in front of you. “Puh- lease. He’s infuriating, he doesn't listen to directions. Also, Steve, your customer service voice? It- you know what, it’s obnoxious. We work in a bakery, you don’t have to put the moves on every girl that comes in.”

“Oh, okay. Hear me out- maybe you don’t like my customer service voice because you’re jealous.” Steve hums, rocking back on his heels and looking even more smug than he did a few seconds ago. “I can put the moves on you, too, if you’re feeling left out.”

You don’t dignify that offer with a response. You kind of just want to punch him in the face. “Go put the muffins out and let me listen to the goddamn PA in peace.”

He has the decency to look shocked. “You like this goofy old shit?”

“I love this goofy old shit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” Eddie hums casually, in as condescending of a voice as he can muster. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t into Harrington. I know I am.” 

“And you, Munson-” You whirl on him, pointing one frosting covered finger angrily in his direction, at which his eyes go all wide and innocent. “Don’t even get me started. Your fucking hair gets everywhere. I swear I had to excavate an entire gerbil from the garlic bread you made yesterday. Take a fucking weedwacker to that thing, for the love of god. And… and your tattoos are fucking dumb.”

You don’t want to admit that you like the sight of the tattoos, actually. When Mimi had told you that the newbies you’d be training were gonna be “that darling Steve Harrington, and his friend, the Munson boy” you’d been a little bit pleased. There isn’t much to admire in a bakery except cakes, and if having the two of them around the bakery means things just got a little more scenic, then you were happy to have them. 

Unfortunately, a pretty face often means an infernal personality. Finding one without the other would probably take an act of god at this point. Times two, you got stuck with the fucking chaos twins.

“Dumb?” Eddie wolf whistles. “That smarts, sweetheart. It really does. You haven’t even seen all of my tattoos yet. I’d love to give you a tour of them, though-”

Your face burns at the thought of Eddie Munson letting you get a first class look at his tattoos. He probably has ones in places even god doesn’t know about, and you glare down at the cinnamon rolls in front of you to hide how flustered you are about it. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“I wish you would.”

“For christ’s sake- Steve. Muffins, now.”

Steve does what he’s told, for a change. It doesn’t give you as much of an ego boost as it usually does- really, you just feel sort of dull as you snap your rubber gloves off and throw them in the trash can to the side. You don’t know why you let them bother you as much as they do, but for some reason the just jerk your chain like nothing else.

The bell over the front door jingles, alerting you to the arrival of a customer. You take a quick peek at the ovens behind you to check the time; it’s nearly 8, and the bakery closes at 10. You fight to not roll your eyes as you grab a pair of gloves in case whoever it is wants something out of the display case. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Your voice is sing-songy enough that you want to smack yourself. A middle aged woman has made a bee-line for the counter, straight past where Steve is bent over a display table, struggling to shift all the old muffin boxes to the top and slide the newer ones underneath them. 

You stare at his ass for… probably way longer than necessary, honestly. 

The woman points at a singular cake box left on the counter from today’s special orders, and immediately reaches up to take it without any other introduction. 

Oh. One of these customers. The ones who come in and grab stuff off the counter without asking for assistance, who will walk back into the kitchen to look at the overstock racks and help themselves to things that haven’t been put out on the floor yet.

A tight smile curls at your lips as you snag the tag on the box and look at the name before she can yank it off the counter from you. “For Linda?”

The woman nods curtly. As you turn the box to face her, your eyes shift back to Steve as he moves around the side of the display table. He stretches his arm out to reach for a stack on a higher shelf, and your eyes linger on the way the short sleeve of his uniform shirt rides up to expose his bicep.

“This is not the cake I ordered.”

“What?” You snap your eyes back to Linda’s pinched face, glaring down at the cake on the counter. It’s a basic sheet cake, with white frosting and a screaming red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ on it. Not necessarily a masterpiece, but a neat and pretty cake nonetheless.

“I ordered a cake with a winning streak theme. This has nothing on it,” Linda says icily as you snatch up the order slip you had taken off of the box and inspect it.

“A marble quarter sheet with white buttercream and a red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ in black icing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… what’s on the cake, ma’am.”

“But there’s no other decoration. Where’s the winning streak theme?”

You blink, and briefly make eye contact with Steve over the woman’s shoulder. He’s all but abandoned his task of stacking muffin boxes, instead watching your face carefully as your conversation plays out. He raises one eyebrow at you, and you’re not sure if that’s him trying to be condescending or supportive. 

“I- I apologize, ma’am-” you start, looking for a way to dig your way out of the situation, “The order does say that you requested the theme, but you didn’t specify any decorations. Our decorators won’t take liberties with the order on their own if you don’t request-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Linda interjects, and you clamp your mouth shut with a dull ache beginning to throb in your temples. “I’m supposed to be at a winning streak themed party in twenty minutes and I have an embarrassment of a cake to show for it. I should be reimbursed.”

“The cake wasn’t paid for in advance,” you tell her mildly, trying not to crinkle the page with her order on it as you hold it up. 

“Uh… accommodated, then. I shouldn’t have to pay for something I didn’t want in the first place!”

“I’m afraid I can’t just give you a cake for free, ma’am. I’m not authorized.”

“Can I speak to your manager, then?” 

You open your mouth to say that, technically, you are what amounts to the shift manager. It’s just you and Eddie and Steve in the store, and even though neither of your job descriptions really include the word ‘manager’ in them, seniority rules over all. You’ve been here long enough to be able to train them, so by right you’re the one in charge. 

But then a warm hand touches the curve of your lower back, and Steve appears out of thin air to gently scoot you aside without so much as a hello.

“What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Steve smiles, and you could almost mistake him for being sincere if his fingertips didn’t dig into your back just slightly before pulling away. 

Linda visibly softens her demeanor, smoothing her stringy blonde hair away from her face. “Are you the manager?”

You scrutinize his profile, trying for all the world to read his fucking mind, because you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s barely even taken a cake order, let alone dealt with a disgruntled customer with a botched one.

“That, I am!” Steve declares, and oh. Cheeky motherfucker. He’s doing the voice. He bats his eyelashes- big, long, sweeping blinks that you think can make him take flight if he tries much harder. “What can I do for you?”

“This girl,” Linda tells him shortly, not even looking at you when she motions in your direction, “is refusing to compromise about this cake. It’s not what I ordered, and if I have to show up for this party without a winning streak themed cake, I’m going to be embarrassed. The customer is always right!”

“In matters of taste,” Eddie says from over your shoulder.

Linda fixes Eddie with a cold stare. “I’m sorry?”

“That, uh… that saying.” Eddie steps up to your other side, obviously choking back a laugh as he clears his throat. “The full saying is, ‘The customer is always right in matters of taste.’ Meaning you’re right about your order, we can’t argue with your personal preferences.” 

“Exactly.” Steve shrugs easily, the picture of self-assurance as he takes the order sheet from your hand and looks it over. You’re not even sure if he entirely understands how to dissect the order sheet itself, but he looks convincing enough while doing it. “If you don’t like the cake, you don’t have to buy it. But my gi- ‘ this’ girl is right.”

You snap your eyes toward Steve, the back of your neck burning. His what?

Steve continues like he’s made no mistake whatsoever. “We can’t give you the cake for free- the only person who can do that is the owner.”

Linda scowls. “‘Take it or leave it,’ you mean?”

Steve affords her a kind smile. “I’d be happy to pull any of our cakes out of the display instead, if you see any you prefer.”

“No,” Linda insists, obviously unhappy about it, “I’ve been coming here for twenty years and this has never happened, the owner knows me-”

“We can call Mimi, if you’d like,” he adds. 

“No, like I said, I have a party in twenty minutes,” Linda says sourly, and begins digging through her purse. “No, I’ll pay for this one, I guess.”

Behind the counter, you watch Steve ball up Linda’s cake order sheet in his palm, squeeze it unnecessarily hard, and toss it into the waste bin. Then, faster than fucking lightning, you watch Eddie type the price of the cake into the cash register. He hits the sales tax button twice.

“Come back soon!” Eddie says cheerfully as he hands her the receipt. 

You stand motionless behind them both, dumbfounded, until Linda leaves. And then Steve’s immediately cursing, shaking his head as he turns and starts walking toward the back room, hands untying the bow at his waist to undo his apron. “They’ll say anything for free shit. Anything. What the fuck is a ‘winning streak’ theme, anyways? I swear- no, you know what, I don’t actually fucking care. I used to give out freebies all the time at Scoops. But this isn’t corporate, and Mimi knows my family-” 

You follow him closely, disappearing into the back with him as he continues blathering. “Why did you do that?” 

“Hm?” Steve pauses as he’s pulling his apron over his head, and stares at you for a few seconds, like he doesn’t even know what you’re referring to. And then, you see his brown eyes widen. “Oh! I guess… I mean, I could see it going bad, and I figured if she wasn’t listening to you, then she’d probably listen to me. If I, y’know. Put the moves on her.”

You snort loudly. “Always so fuckin’ cute- I could have handled it myself.”

“No, I know you could have. I know.” Steve nods, his hair sort of fluttering around his face as he looks away from you. “But… y’know, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, while I’m here. I’ve been tortured by KGB and fought monsters, I can deal with an angry customer-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh. Uh…” He pauses, eyes drifting off to the side, to meet Eddie’s, who trailed behind you into the back room and is lingering over your shoulder. “Dun- Dungeons and… and Dragons? Yeah… yeah! Have you- have you played it?”

“You?” Your giggle splutters loudly in your chest before bubbling up out of your throat unexpectedly. “Steve Harrington plays Dungeons and Dragons? You like that goofy sword and sorcery shit?”

“Fucking metal sword and sorcery shit, thank you very much,” Eddie snaps, and you scoff at him. 

Steve chuckles at your little jab at his words from earlier, looking anywhere but at your face. “Yeah, sort of. I mean… Munson taught me a bit about it.”

“Everything he knows.” Eddie’s grin is wide and holds an air of mystery to it, like he knows something you don’t.

“Hm. Put that on a t-shirt for me and maybe I’ll buy it.” You blush, staring at Steve’s profile as he pulls a water bottle out of the employee break cabinet and takes a long drink from it. Then, you turn to Eddie, who leans against the door jamb. “Where’d you learn that thing about ‘the customer is always right,’ anyways?”

“Hm? Oh… I used to help my uncle Wayne in his garage,” Eddie explains nonchalantly. “Learned a lot from watching him deal with customers.”

“Right,” you hum, nodding slowly, and then turn to Steve. “And you. You could get in so much fucking trouble if Mimi finds out about that whole thing. Where did you pick that up?”

“My best friend- Robin Buckley? You know her?” Steve says as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and snaps it shut. You shake your head, and he goes on. “Yeah. She’s crazy smart. We worked together at Scoops, and Family Video. Always had a way to respond to everything, even though she’s awkward as hell. And before you ask- yes, she would have tried to put the moves on Linda, too.”

“Would she?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve grins at you fondly, making your heart stall in your chest a bit. “Every single move in the book. If you ask me, she’s better with the ladies than I am.”

You laugh, then nod your head slowly, looking him up and down. “Okay. You’re actually fucking hilarious, Harrington. Too bad I hate your guts.”

“Really? I’m moving up in the world.” Steve grunts. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my darling dearest.”

“Is that why you almost called me ‘your girl?’”

His smirk creates cute little dimples in his cheeks. “No, I almost did that because you’re the only one who can tell me to suck on their nuts, and I’ll actually consider doing it.”

Before you can even take a moment to process that little wise-crack, Eddie’s distracting you. His hand passes through your line of vision, then comes up and presses against the front of your green apron, just against your breast. You genuinely think he’s trying to feel you up, and you snap your eyes down to find his ringed fingers scraping a giant drop of cream cheese frosting off of your chest. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. That must have come from when you were frosting the cinnamon rolls- more like smacking them around with frosting, really- and the fact that it was there the entire time Linda was here is more than humiliating. You must have looked like such an idiot, trying to conduct yourself like a manager-

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, using that same fucking condescending tone that makes your hair stand on end, before meeting your eye and sucking the glob of frosting off of his two fingers.

You get a sudden head rush, and it takes way more self restraint than it should to not audibly whimper. Oh, he really shouldn’t have done that. 

You stare at him for a long moment, your eyes flickering between his, and his fingers in between his ungodly pink lips. You… you feel like you’re fucking drowning, floundering around with your head underwater and you don’t know what to do. You snap your eyes to Steve, looking for some sort of sympathy or support, but he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, he just winks. 

No. They absolutely should not have done that.

“Fucking… fuck this. Fuck both of you- I have work to do,” you hiss, trying to skirt past buckets of frosting to get around where Eddie’s blocking the doorway, but he refuses to step aside, instead creating a one-man barricade while he snickers and continues sucking on his fingers just to rile you up even more. “Fucking move, Eddie.”

“Oh, it’s Eddie now?” He grins, obviously enjoying how much you’re struggling, with your chest pushed up against his and your arm nearly circling his waist to lever yourself against the other side of the door. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, for a lack of anything else to say. 

“For the second time, I wish you would.” Eddie raises his hand and captures your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him, instead of over his shoulder or to the side at Steve. Your heart jumps into your throat, feeling his damp fingers on your cheek and remembering how he had been sucking on them a second ago. “Might clean out that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” You snatch Eddie by his pinstriped collar, simultaneously pulling him down to your height and also pushing him back against the wire rack of boxes along the far wall. Eddie curses, stumbling and grabbing onto your hips as if that will steady himself. His nose nudges yours from this angle, and how close you crowd up against him. “You drive me up the fucking wall, Munson. You think you can just sweet talk me like I’m some uptight customer?”

“Woah,” Steve says from behind you, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit surprised. More amused, and intrigued. “I think you struck a nerve.” 

“Did I?” Eddie whispers, with a hint of a smirk still on his face. His dark eyes are looking directly into yours.

He doesn’t even have time to breathe before you kiss him. Desperately. Long and hard and sort of angry, open-mouthed so that you can taste the frosting still on his tongue. He makes the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard- somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as his hands come up to cup your face and pull you closer into him. His knee slotting between your legs, not pushing up but just remaining solidly there for you to lean against it. It takes an inordinate amount of strength for you not to grind yourself down onto his thigh.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Steve says calmly from just beside you. 

Eddie pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a mockery of a tender embrace. “Go on. Show Harrington how much you hate him, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you grumble, but your hands have better plans. One stays on Eddie’s shoulder, but the other snatches Steve by the collar and pulls him forward so that you can attack his face with the same amount of fervor. Eddie has no compunction to be gentlemanly- while Steve’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, Eddie’s creeps up underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze, pulling you forward to grind against his thigh and making you gasp against Steve’s mouth so that his tongue can lick deeper into yours.

Nothing quite prepares you for how Eddie’s voice affects you when he says, “Uh oh, Harrington. I think I was right- she likes you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You make a short noise in your throat, your hand sliding down Steve’s chest to his waist, fingers beginning to make quick work of his fly. “Let’s- let’s just double check, huh? Make extra sure.”

“God- yeah. Yeah, okay. Just- be on the safe side.” Steve’s tongue is burning up when it touches your neck, his head nuzzling down so that he can graze your throat with his teeth. 

Eddie catches your hand before you manage to wiggle it beneath his waistband, and looks you directly in the eye just before he spits onto your palm. You whimper noisily at the feeling of it, warm and wet, dripping between your fingers while Steve licks at your neck and heat simmers under the tender skin between your thighs.

Air punches from Steve’s mouth when you work his trousers down his hips and pull his erection out of his boxers- he’s not quite pulsing and swollen yet, but your fingertips still just barely manage to meet from how thick he is. 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you curse as you give him a languid stroke, feeling him shudder when you brush your thumb over his tip and then drag your hand down his length again. Eddie’s saliva helps to make the motion fluid and smooth, adding a slick sound to punctuate Steve’s loud gasp. 

“What?” Steve hisses, trying his best to appear passive, but his voice betrays him and cracks. He gazes at you a bit apprehensively, his doe eyes looking a little foggy with need as they flicker over your face and focus on your lips. 

“Nothing on earth needs to be this big.” 

Eddie’s free hand coming up to weave through Steve’s hair and jerking his head back. His teeth catch Steve’s earlobe just before he murmurs, “Told ya, big boy.” Eddie looks directly at you over Steve’s shoulder. “Harrington’s packing a fucking monster, isn’t he?”

You hum as you let your fingers drift along the length of him. Steve’s gaze suddenly turns darker, and his chuckle falls flat out of his mouth like an exclamation of awe more than anything. “Think you can take it?”

You don’t answer that. Your grip tightens just a bit and he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Are you one of those guys that’ll come as soon as I gag?” 

“Fuck, maybe?” Steve’s hands cup the sides of your neck and trail up to cradle your head as you lower yourself in front of him. 

Eddie scoffs. “He can’t handle it worth a shit. Don’t go easy on him.”

“Then he’d better hold on to something.” You scrape your nails down his exposed thigh, reveling in the way his entire body shakes at the feeling. 

And, without any further warning, you wrap your lips around his cock. 

Steve curses, hands balling into fists just before he slams them down against the shelf he’s leaning on. Through your lashes, you watch him gasp for breath and you wonder if he’s honestly going to last long enough to fuck you properly. Not that it really matters, though, because Eddie seems like he’ll be more than happy to pick up where Steve leaves off. 

Eddie’s hand rests on the crown of your head, guiding you on Steve’s cock. His tip leaks with precum that tastes salty on your tongue when you lick at his slit, and as you take him further into your mouth, you realize just how right you were. He hits the back of your throat, making tears spring up in your eyes and a quiet moan bubble up out of your chest on its own when you choke. 

Steve just about loses his mind over it. He groans loudly, scrambling for a place to put his hands and ending up with a fistful of Eddie’s uniform shirt while he tries to compose himself. 

“Holy fuck, you look so good with your mouth full,” Steve grunts, his free hand coming up your chin as he slides his cock out of your mouth and back in again.

“I think I like her more when she can’t talk back to us,” Eddie chuckles darkly, pressing on the back of your head and making you choke again. 

Steve hisses, his fingers tightening on your cheek. “Look at me, let me see those eyes- there you go. Pretty baby.”

You whimper, letting your jaw go slack so that Steve can fuck your mouth all he wants while you try to steady yourself. You should hate it. You should hate this- you hate them both. You think. 

Wait. Do you? 

You’ve never been this needy before, but hell if your cunt isn’t just throbbing in your uncomfortably wet panties, and your nails are digging into Steve’s skin where you grip his thighs for support. If he notices any pain from it, he doesn’t say anything- just keeps giving you these erotic little gasps every time his cock nudges the back of your throat and your eyes flicker shut for a moment before he taps your cheek and makes you open them again. 

“We should do this more often,” Steve says thickly, and without thinking, you hum in agreement. You add a little resistance against Eddie’s hand on your head to regain a bit of control, letting your tongue roll against Steve’s length however you want. 

“You think she’ll give it this good if she’s getting fucked?” Eddie muses suddenly, his finger’s toying with your hair rather than guiding you anymore. 

“Fuck- only one way to find out.” Steve shakily releases the fistful he has of Eddie’s shirt, letting him slip away from his side. Eddie’s hand leaves your head, instead falling to the tie on his apron to start undoing it. 

You whine softly, shuffling up on your knees and nearly slipping when you feel Eddie’s hands flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. His large hand smooths over the hem of your underwear, then lowers to stroke the cleft of your pussy through the fabric. 

“Oh, poor thing.”  

“What is it?” Steve asks. 

“She’s soaked through these pretty panties,” Eddie coos softly as his fingers stroke back and forth over the fabric, nudging your clit with achingly gentle, indirect touches. You moan, arching your back for more. “Baby got so wet from sucking Steve’s cock, huh? Sweet little pussy needs some attention?”

“Shit. God, that’s so hot. Fuck-” Steve grabs your hair, guiding you off of his cock with a wet noise that makes Eddie’s fingers press on your clit just a little bit harder. You splutter, drool trailing from your lips and dripping down your chin as you try to catch your breath. Something you can’t quite do, because Eddie won’t stop touching you. 

Steve tilts your head up, leveraging you backwards a bit as he kneels in front of you. “You want Eddie to fuck you? Is that what you need?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around Steve’s wet cock and giving him a few slow pumps. “Yeah, I-” you hiccup when you feel Eddie’s fingers hook your panties to the side, and dip through your dripping folds, unobstructed. “Oh fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Don’t hate us so goddamn much now?” Eddie croons as he presses two fingers deep into your pussy. 

You groan and hang your head, forehead pressing up against Steve’s navel and your nails sinking into the meat of his thigh. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, and it occurs to you that he likes that pain- or maybe he just likes holding you against him while Eddie fingerfucks you.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair tenderly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Munson. I think she’s having trouble talking.”

“For a change.” Eddie curls his fingers, and you nearly lose your balance, thankful that you have Steve to hold you up. “So fuckin’ wet… I think I want to taste it first.”

Eddie’s fingers leave you, and you openly sob against Steve’s stomach as his grip tightens in your hair. “E-eddie…”

His two hands curl around the waistband of your panties, and rip through the fabric as though it’s only paper. “Hold her up, Steve, it sounds like she’s gonna need it.”

Steve puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you up, rocking back so that he can get a good look at your face. Eddie spreads your legs apart, and you can feel him crowding his body in between them. There’s a slight pause, and then his tongue touches you, licking a stripe of fucking fire through your cunt from behind. 

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s too good, too warm and slick when you’ve been aching for it for way too long, your clit pulsing desperately and burning hot when his tongue strokes over it. You strain up against Steve’s hands, but he keeps pushing you forward, keeping you there against Eddie’s mouth. You moan obscenely loud, your hands tearing at Steve’s shirt like it’ll somehow convince him to let you go. 

“You’re so damn pretty like this, angel,” Steve whispers, tilting your chin up when your head falls so he can keep looking at your face. He’s flushed, his lips parted and his eyes drooping and so dark that you nearly balk under his gaze.

Eddie groans in the back of his throat and finally pulls back, and you’re not sure whether to chase his mouth or to sob for relief, so you sort of do both at the same time. He plants a hand on your ass to keep you from falling backwards into him. 

“Fuck, she tastes so sweet. Here-” You feel him move, and then Steve holds up a hand to catch something that Eddie tosses to him. 

You lift your eyes and discover that Steve is holding your torn underwear. The light blue fabric looks so out of place and innocent, little pink flowers decorating the waistband. It makes it worse that he’s looking directly at you, keeping you frozen in place. He holds them up to his nose and breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut just briefly before he looks at you again and drags the soaked crotch of them across his tongue. 

“Steve…” you breathe, overwhelmed by the sight of him and the sound of his groan of pleasure. You search for something to say to him, but nothing comes before you feel something hot and thick pushing into your soaking entrance. You gasp, and then claw at Steve’s thigh in lieu of something to hold onto. “Fuck, Eddie-” 

“Shouldn’t you be choking on Steve’s cock right about now?” Eddie hisses through his teeth, sounding strained and letting out a low groan to punctuate it. 

You whine, feeling unbelievably stretched and full as Eddie splits you open, but you still scramble backwards and sink your mouth onto Steve’s cock so quickly that a gasp leaps out of his chest. 

Steve punches out a little laugh, his hand twisting your hair and pushing you down until your eyes water. “So agreeable once you get your pussy filled.”

“God, she’s so tight,” Eddie grunts as he hollows out and starts thrusting, reaching deeper inside you each time. You don’t think it’s so much that you’re tight as he’s just big- you haven’t seen his cock, but you can feel it, like you haven’t fucking felt anything else before, and it’s good. You can feel every inch, every ridge, and it makes your eyes fully roll back into your skull. “Fuck, you gotta feel this-”

“Can’t. ‘M not gonna last, shit…” Steve sounds wrecked, his words coming out sharp and desperate. The hand on your head is shaking, and you’re honestly impressed he’s lasted as long as he has. “‘M gonna come down this pretty throat.”

“You hear that, sweet pea? You gonna swallow all of Steve’s cum?” Eddie’s hand weaves through your hair around Steve’s fingers, aiding in shoving your head down onto his cock. 

As if you weren’t going to, and as if he wasn’t already fucking your mouth faster than you could reasonably keep up. But you whimper and bury your nose in the patch of coarse hair at the base of Steve’s cock, inhaling his scent and tasting his musky flavor on your tongue, and you swallow around him. And then you keep swallowing, because Steve comes hard.  

He sounds absolutely gorgeous when he does it, too. If Eddie wasn’t fucking you so hard that you couldn’t stop whining, you think it would be nearly like a symphony to hear Steve reduced to quiet whimpers. By the time the hands on your head relax enough to let you off of him, though, he’s completely out of breath. 

“Good girl,” Steve pants, his hand lifting up to caress your cheek and to wipe a little dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth, so soft that it could be construed as sweet if there wasn’t any context to it. “Fuck… you were so good.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into your ear, still driving his hips into yours with such force that it’s jolting you toward Steve. “Good baby, pretty baby- takes cock like a perfect little slut.”

You groan, hanging your head and arching your back toward Eddie. You seize up, your orgasm simmering low in you like the receding tide before a fucking tsunami, and you’re almost scared of how big it feels. 

“She liked that,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bending further over you so that his breath tickles your ear. “You like it when I call you a slut, huh? Our perfect. Little. Slut.”

You open your mouth to say his name, tell him to shut up, or keep going, or anything, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Your hand juts forward and clamps down like a vise onto Steve’s thigh, finding that he’s pulled his pants up. Your nails scratch at stiff khaki twill, trying to beg him to take pity on you, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

“Pick her up,” Steve says above you. “I want to see her face when she comes.”

Oh, so he’s trying to kill you, actually. That tracks.

Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist and hauls you up, and he rocks back onto his heels to pull your back against his chest. He hugs you close to him, shushing you when his cock hits you from a different angle and you cry out sharply from the feeling. 

“Pretty thing can’t take it,” Steve murmurs as he crowds in close, his hands coming up to caress you through your dress. The fabric is too goddamn rough and itchy, and your skin is too sensitive for him to be toying with you now. 

“Oh, she can take it.” Eddie sounds so sure, his voice rough and stony as he rocks his pelvis up against you while, at the same time, pulling you down into his lap. “She can take all of it. Can’t you, baby?”

You hope the question is rhetorical. You’re trembling, too lost in the feeling of the mind-numbing bliss Eddie’s giving you to come up with a response at this point. Your hand plunges back over your shoulder into a mess of curly hair, and you feel him turn his head to brush his lips against your ear. 

Steve’s hand brushes up your thigh, creeping under your skirt that’s draped across both you and Eddie’s knees. You barely have time to pick your head up and intellectualize what he’s doing before his thumb touches your clit. 

“Oh fuck-” Eddie chokes out urgently, just at the same time as you sink your nails into his forearm and all of your floor muscles lock down around him. 

And then the tsunami hits. 

You nearly scream, your cunt tightening up to wring everything out of the sensation that it can. Eddie’s cock is so hard and it hits inside you so perfectly every time that you swear you’re going to die from it. You’re collapsing forward, despite Eddie’s grip on your waist and Steve’s solid chest creating a barrier for you to fall into- your limbs feel liquid, all your muscles finally relaxing all at once. 

You feel Eddie falter, his hand slipping on your waist so that you do fall into Steve’s chest. While Eddie’s cock throbs inside you and his moans fill your ears, Steve’s hands cup your face and tilt your head up toward his. And then his lips are on yours, and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth at the same time as you feel Eddie come deep inside your cunt. 

You don’t want Eddie to pull out. Not really. You’re not going to tell him to stay there inside you while you’re both crouched awkwardly on the hard floor, but you do wish he’d take at least a few seconds before he does, because the aching emptiness he leaves in his place is enough to make tears spring up in your eyes. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well,” Eddie whispers as you sob openly from the sensation, his arm coming back around your waist to pull you against him. And then you both sort of topple backwards, his shoulders hitting the stacks of backstock frosting buckets as Steve shuffles back to lean against the wire rack across from you. He pulls your legs into his lap and starts stroking his hand across your bare calf. 

You try to catch your breath while Eddie reaches for something on the floor off to the side. You blink your eyes open to find him fiddling with his discarded green apron, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in it before wadding it up into a little ball. 

He promptly tucks it between your legs and starts cleaning you up with it. 

“R’you using your apron… as a cum rag?” You slur tiredly at him, squeaking a little as the rough fabric scrapes across your overly sensitive clit. 

“Don’t want to leave a mess,” he mutters easily, making Steve chuckle across from you. “Why s’it that I can fuck you half out of your mind and you’ll still bitch me out about how I clean shit?”

“‘Cause it’s fun t’see you all mad. You’re pretty when you’re pissy.” You feel his chest shake with laughter as he finishes wiping you down and tosses the apron aside, then wraps his arms snugly around your middle. 

“Good thing you’re pretty all the time, then.” Eddie huffs, rocking you back and forth a little as he fits his head on your shoulder. You tap your fingers across his forearm, looking down at them and humming contentedly. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, smiling at you almost fondly. 

You sigh, dragging your fingertip along Eddie’s skin. “I like his tattoos.”

“I knew it,” Eddie whispers, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, making you giggle and shut your eyes. “I still haven’t shown you the rest of ‘em.”

“There’s always next time.”

Steve blinks. “You want to do this again?”

“Of course I want to fucking do this again, Steve,” you snap, rolling your eyes playflully. “Been wanting to jump both of you since you started, wasn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Was to me.” Eddie’s finger traces along your collar, toying with the first button on the front of your uniform dress. “Also, I haven’t seen your tits, so. I’m not done with you yet.”

“I dunno, the dress kind of does it for me,” Steve admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… cute. Like a 50s housewife or something.”

“Let’s get you a string of pearls and see how long ‘Big Dick’ Harrington lasts then,” Eddie snickers, and you laugh tiredly as you watch Steve flush. 

You fall into easy silence, but just as soon as you relax into Eddie’s arms, the bell over the front door of the bakery jingles. And then the hand bell on the front counter dings loudly. 

And dings again. And dings again. And dings agai-

“You gonna get it, this time?” Steve asks Eddie, sounding a little bit grumpy already. 

“No, I’m gonna hold her a while longer,” Eddie says coolly, not leaving any room for discussion. He presses a tiny kiss to your neck, just underneath your ear, and you squeak in surprise at the lightness of it. “Go get ‘em, Mr. Manager Man.”

“Fuckin’-” Steve rolls his eyes as he gently sets your legs aside before gracelessly clambering up off the ground. He smooths out his uniform, tucking in the tail of his shirt before striding through the door into the kitchen. “What’s up, party people?”

“Do you have any chocolate cakes with white buttercream already made? I need it for tonight.”

Eddie scoffs in your ear, his hand drifting across your thigh to rest just shy of your pussy, making your breath hitch and your hips cant up toward his touch. “They always wait for the last fuckin’ minute, don’t they?”

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson one

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, FALL, 1992

September. Fall semester.

A new town. A new school.

Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.

You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.

Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.

You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you. 

The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now. 

Steve. It suited him.

“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.

Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.

“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”

Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.

“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls. 

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”

~

“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty. 

“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.” 

Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.

“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”

They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”

Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.

~

You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.

It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche. 

A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.

A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.

Of course it was Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Right.” You nodded.

You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”

Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.” 

“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”

You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”

“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”

“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.

“You betcha.”

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter Three

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 9k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ a/n: this is the final rewrite chapter for season 2. the next few chapters will take place between seasons, before we jump into season 3. i'm torn between having the reader and steve already happily in love, or building their relationship with a slower, more gradual "slow burn" approach. let me know if you have a preference on which direction you'd like to see their story go. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The house is still. Despite the number of people inside, everything—and everyone—feels frozen. The air hangs heavy, dense enough that even a falling leaf would plummet straight down instead of drifting aimlessly.

In that oppressive silence, Nancy’s hand rests gently on Jonathan’s shoulder as he murmurs soft, repeated apologies to his unconscious brother. Hopper’s voice thunders from another room, shouting into the phone at God knows who. The stark contrast between Jonathan’s whispered pleas and Hopper’s roaring urgency only adds to the weight pressing down on all of you.

Your gaze flicks between Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve. But Steve’s attention is fixed entirely on her. His expression is unreadable, a puzzle you can’t help but want to solve. Slowly, you step closer, your heart pounding as you search his face for some unspoken answer buried in his eyes. As if sensing your approach, Steve straightens, brushing a hand over his face in a failed attempt to mask the quiet sniffle that escapes. When his bloodshot eyes finally meet yours, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—pity, frustration, or maybe just the ache of knowing him so well.

This is the Steve you’ve always known—bold and self-assured, with a fiercely loyal heart that makes him impossible to walk away from. But tonight, his edges are frayed, his armor cracked under the weight of everything he’s faced. He doesn’t just observe the heaviness in the room; he feels it, wearing it like a second skin. As he watches Nancy with Jonathan—her hand on his shoulder, her gaze soft in a way Steve hasn’t seen in years—the truth settles quietly: Nancy isn’t his anymore. Her heart belongs to someone else. Yet instead of hurt, Steve feels peace—peace in letting go and realizing he might finally belong somewhere too.

Steve’s gaze shifts back to you, his jaw tightening, his hand flexing at his side as though resisting an urge he can’t quite act on. His eyes hold an intensity that sends a shiver through you. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen him look at you like this, but now it feels heavier, more deliberate.

His hand brushes lightly across your stomach, guiding you to follow him, his silent invitation impossible to ignore. He leads you into the kitchen, where he leans back against the counter. You steady yourself beside him, your fingertips accidentally grazing his, sparking a thrill of nerves. You hold your breath, unsure of what he might do now that Nancy’s here, lingering so close. But instead of pulling away, he surprises you—sliding his finger between yours, linking them together. In that small, quiet gesture, he says everything: I’m here. We’re here, and we’re in this together.

You both stay there, fingers subtly intertwined, as the kids reminisce about Bob.

Your mind drifts back to that summer you washed cars tirelessly, saving every dollar for a Walkman. You remember the pride you felt when you finally walked into RadioShack and handed Bob your hard-earned cash. He showed you how to use it, and from that day on, whenever he saw you, he made sure you knew about the latest and greatest models. He ignited your love for collecting them, and in a way, he fed your love of music. Bob is a hero, gone far too soon. Now, a fierce need for revenge against those monsters burns within you, alongside a deep desire to honor the memory of Bob Newby, the town’s unsung hero.

“We can’t let him die in vain,” you say, breaking the silence.

Dustin huffs in frustration. “Well, we can’t take down those Demo-dogs on our own.”

“Demo-dogs?” Max repeats, confused.

He shoots her an irritated look. “Demogorgon dogs. Demo-dogs. It’s like… a compound word. A play on words…”

You raise your eyebrows, giving Max a sarcastic nod. “Yeah, Max. Keep up.” She giggles despite the tension.

“There’s an army now,” Lucas says, his tone filled with doubt.

Mike’s voice cuts through the chatter. “His army.”

Steve perks up, his focus shifting. “What do you mean?”

The group gathers closer, ideas bouncing back and forth as Dustin pieces it together, dubbing the creature “the Mind Flayer.” You lean against the table, feeling Steve’s gaze on you again, steady and unwavering.

Nancy notices too, her eyes darting between the two of you. She sees the fear flickering in your eyes and the fierce determination in Steve’s to shield you from this nightmare. But it’s more than determination—there’s an intimacy there, a connection that echoes a past she knows the two of you share. She should feel jealous; after all, she spent the last year with this man, the one now looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever known. As Jonathan’s hand brushes hers, she feels something else—guilt.

Nancy squeezes Jonathan’s hand, grounding herself, but her gaze flicks back to Steve one last time.

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Here’s the next section revised into present tense:

At last, the plan is in place. You split into groups, and you find yourself alongside Jonathan, while Nancy and Steve head into the shed to transform it into something unrecognizable for Will.

“So… you and Nancy, huh?” you tease, nudging Jonathan lightly.

His cheeks flush, and he glances away. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really. I just like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re truly happy.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything that’s happened. “I shouldn’t be, though. While I was with Nancy, Will was here… suffering.”

“Jonathan,” you say gently, your voice firm, “you weren’t just off with Nancy. You were uncovering the truth, fighting for justice for Barb, and exposing something that could have swallowed Hawkins whole. When we get Will back, he’s going to be so proud of what you did to help stop this.”

You rest a hand on his arm, offering reassurance, and for a moment, Jonathan meets your eyes. There’s gratitude in his expression.

In the shed, Nancy and Steve work tirelessly, stapling whatever they can find to the walls in a desperate attempt to reach Will. The air between them feels lighter, but there’s still a lingering tension, a subtle unease that neither of them wants to name.

Nancy hesitates, stealing a glance at Steve before swallowing her pride. “Hey. What you did—helping the kids, keeping them safe… that was really cool.”

Steve blinks, surprised by the compliment. Not long ago, her words chipped away at every ounce of confidence he had—in himself, in his worth as a boyfriend, even in the kind of man he wants to be. But now, as her words settle in, it isn’t Nancy he’s thinking about. It’s you.

He thinks of all those years when he’d felt a nagging emptiness—not smart enough to impress his teachers, not strong enough to earn his father’s respect, not sure he’d ever be the guy to win over the girl. And yet, through it all, you’ve been there. You were always there, quietly anchoring him in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now. All those fleeting touches, secret smiles, and stolen moments with you—the girl everyone teased him about, the one he swore he wasn’t in love with—have built something stronger than he ever realized.

The Steve of yesterday might have begged Nancy to reconsider, to tell him she’d made a mistake and still loved him. But the Steve of today doesn’t need to. He knows now that Nancy wasn’t meant for him, just as he wasn’t meant for her. He had known it the day he found her and Jonathan in the Byers’ living room, their hands bound by blood, their connection undeniable. They belong together, and maybe they always have.

But Steve also knows where he belongs now. For so long, he believed that love meant chasing, proving, or convincing someone to choose him. Yet when he looks at you—standing just outside the shed, picking up an axe with confident hands—it’s like the weapon belongs to you. You hold it naturally, without hesitation. Steve feels a pull so steady and certain it leaves no room for doubt. He doesn’t have to beg for your love because it’s already there, as it’s always been.

Nancy notices it once again. There’s that same feeling from earlier—guilt. Guilt for trying to mold Steve into a part of her life that never truly fit. Deep down, she has always known where her heart belongs. And now, watching the way you and Steve gravitate toward each other, she realizes something else: maybe his heart has never fully belonged to her either. The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the weight of it all—it’s a look she’s never seen him give her. And somehow, someway, she’s at peace with that.

You step into the shed, your steps hesitant as you cross into the quiet space. “Am I interrupting something?” you ask, your voice tentative.

“No! Not at all,” Nancy says quickly, offering you a smile that’s softer than you expect. “Actually, thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to get involved in all this, but we really need you.”

You blink in surprise at her sincerity but manage to find your voice. “Of course. I just… I wish I could’ve done more sooner. And I’m sorry. For… for Barb and everything else.” There’s a double meaning in your words, one that lingers unspoken, but you hope Nancy hears it anyway.

Silence settles between the three of you, awkward but not hostile. “Well,” you say, stepping back toward the door, “I guess you guys have it covered in here. I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get back to it.”

You leave quickly, your heart racing for reasons you can’t quite pin down. But as you glance over your shoulder one last time, you catch Steve watching you. You nod, and he smiles—soft and sure, like he’s been waiting for this. Then you step into the night, his gaze still lingering in your mind.

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While Joyce, Mike, Hopper, Jonathan, and Will are all out in the shed, the rest of you stay inside.

You wait in the dim living room with Steve, backs pressed against the wall. Tensions are high, but in this quiet moment, with danger pressing in around you, both your walls are down.

“So…” you start, biting your lip as you realize you’ve spoken just to fill the silence, only to find yourself without anything to say.

“So.”

“Are we… good?” you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve leans his head back against the wall, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down the lump that’s been there every time you two have drifted to the edge of this conversation over the years.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been this perfect.”

There it is. The words hang heavy in the air, and tears spring to your eyes.

He starts again, his voice softer this time. “Friends don’t make each other feel like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“Like if one of those monsters bursts through that door, there’s a chance I could lose my everything. My whole world. And there’s no chance I’d survive if that happened.”

“Y-your whole world… meaning?” The words catch in your throat, the weight of them hitting you before you can make sense of them.

He nods, his eyes locked on yours, confirming every word he just said.

“Not… not…” You glance toward the other room, where Nancy is sitting, unsure if you want the answer.

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm. The vulnerability in his eyes is so raw it almost breaks you.

Your heart races. His whole world. You don’t need him to say anything else—the depth of what he’s admitting is clear, and yet you can’t find the words to match it. The truth of it hangs between you, painful and perfect, all at once.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you speak, your voice trembling but steady. “Then I guess we have to survive tonight… so we can have a very important conversation tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, his gaze shifting upward as he stares at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. His breathing catches slightly as he imagines what he wants, growing heavier with each passing second. “If we get out of here, I wanna do a lot more than just have a conversation with you.” He finally looks back at you, his eyes dark with intent, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You swallow, your heart thudding in your chest, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. You shift closer to him, trying to match his teasing intensity, but your voice comes out softer, playful despite the tension. “Then you better not let anything stupid happen to you tonight, Harrington.” You raise an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in your tone.

Right on cue, the ominous roars of the Demodogs reverberate in the distance. You, along with everyone else, rush to your feet.

“They’re coming!” Dustin announces.

“He found us,” you whisper.

Those who were in the shed, along with an unconscious Will, rush inside, their faces drained of color as the roars outside grow louder. Nancy grabs your axe from the table and extends it to you, a hint of mischief and excitement in her eyes. She secretly gets a thrill out of this, just like you do.

Your grip tightens around the axe, a firm resolve anchoring you. Just days ago, you didn’t even know the Upside Down—or the horrors within it—existed. But tonight, it’s as if you’ve been preparing for this moment your whole life. You look to Steve and tap your axe to his bat in solidarity. You’re ready to face whatever comes, together. There’s so much to defend now—not just your friends, not just your own life, but the fragile, precious hope of a future you’ve waited so long to finally feel within reach.

You all gather together, a mismatched group bound by a shared resolve, ready to fight with everything you’ve got to save your friend—and the town you call home. For Bob, you think.

The sound of the creatures’ footsteps surrounds you from every corner outside the house, making it impossible to pinpoint where to aim your weapon. Their skin-crawling screeches and chittering seep through the walls, sending an icy chill down your spine.

“What are they doing?” you ask, breathless with fear.

Suddenly, the screeching cuts off, and one of the creatures comes crashing through the window, glass shattering in every direction. You all step forward cautiously, you more than the others. After a tense moment, you tap it with your axe. “It’s dead.”

Before you can catch your breath, you hear the front door’s lock turn. In sync, everyone shifts their attention toward it. The door creaks open, and in walks a girl—dressed in all black, her hair slicked back, jeans unevenly cuffed. A trickle of blood runs from her nose.

This must be El—the girl Mike is in love with, the one everyone was so sure had been lost forever.

Mike rushes to Eleven, asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were safe?” His joy quickly fades when he realizes Hopper has been the one hiding her. A fight erupts and Hopper rushes Mike into the next room.

Eleven turns to rejoin her friends, but her sharp, assessing gaze lands on Max. You step forward with a gentle smile, determined to diffuse the tension.

“I’m Y/N,” you say softly. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

El’s expression shifts slightly, her features softening as her piercing glare toward Max wanes. She seems to recognize something in you—an ally, not a threat.

“Thanks,” Max murmurs quietly, the relief evident in her voice.

You glance toward Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, then back to Max, offering a knowing smile. “Believe me,” you say with a touch of humor, “I get it.”

Max’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, and for the first time, El’s icy demeanor seems to thaw just a bit. A quiet chuckle passes between you and Max as she begins to piece together the reason behind El’s frosty reception.

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Once everyone settles, you all reconvene to finalize the next steps now that Eleven is here to close the gate to the Upside Down. There’s a tension in the air, a quiet urgency to everything. Every minute counts, but there’s no room for fear—not now. The stakes are higher than ever, and all of you can feel it.

The plan is set: to free Will from the beast’s grip, he’ll need to experience intense heat. The thought of what he has to go through sickens you, but you know there is no choice.

Once again, you split into groups. Steve’s gaze lingers on you as you organize everything. It’s clear he wants to stay close, to keep you safe. And you want the same. But you can’t let that get in the way. There’s no room for distractions now.

Nancy, on the other hand, hesitates. Her eyes flicker to Jonathan, and you see the guilt in her expression—she wants to go with him, knowing he’ll be heading to Hopper’s cabin with his mom and Will. But something keeps her rooted to the spot. The ghosts of old decisions, the moments when she chose Jonathan over Steve, seem to haunt her every step. You know how she feels, even if she won’t admit it. It’s a complicated web, and there’s no way out but through.

Taking a steadying breath, you volunteer Steve and Nancy to sift through the yard junk for heaters. They both look at you with surprise, clearly not expecting to be sent together again. But you know they need this moment, this chance to work together. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll give them a bit of closure. Something to put the past behind them. It’s not much, but it’s a step.

They reluctantly go, and you busy yourself with whatever you can do to help the kids inside. It feels like everything is moving so fast, the world spinning, and you’re just trying to hold on.

Outside, Steve and Nancy busy themselves with the junk pile. The silence feels like it lasts an eternity.

“You should go with him,” Steve says to Nancy, his tone quiet but firm.

Nancy looks up, confusion written across her face. 

“With Jonathan,” he states.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve steps closer, picking up a heater she’d found and handing it to her gently. “No one’s leaving anyone, Nance. I may not have been the best boyfriend, but… turns out, I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter. And besides…” He glances towards the house, where you’re trying to hold everything together, “I have help.”

Nancy looks at him, her voice softer now. “Steve…”

He smiles a little, though it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay.”

There’s a long pause, and then Nancy’s eyes soften, her shoulders drooping in a way that shows the weight she’s carried for so long. “You know, I’m glad…” she says quietly, hesitating before finishing, “I’m glad you have… help.” She nods slightly in your direction.

Steve exhales deeply, feeling something in him finally loosen, as if Nancy’s words have given him permission to finally let go of the lingering tension. It’s a relief, but also a sad one. Because it’s not the resolution he wanted, but it’s the one that’s here. And for once, it feels like the first step towards peace.

“I actually have something I want to ask her,” Nancy says, giving Steve a quick squeeze on his arm as she walks away.

Nancy finds you inside, her hand gently grabbing your arm. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”

You look at her, unsure of what she’s about to ask. It’s strange, given everything that’s happened. Nancy’s been with both of your childhood friends, and you… well, you’ve been secretly in love with her ex. The air between you is thick with unspoken history and tangled emotions.

“Can you look after Mike for me?” Nancy asks quietly, almost nervously. “You’ve always been like a big sister to the boys, and… well, I can’t be there for him right now.”

Without thinking, you pull Nancy into a tight hug. “You know I’ll protect him like he’s my own little brother,” you reassure her softly, your voice steady despite the chaotic feeling inside.

Nancy lets out a shaky sob, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

You pull back slightly, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. “I know. But if anyone can handle all of this, it’s you. In case you haven’t noticed… you’re kind of a badass,” you say, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

She chuckles, though it’s muffled by her tears. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice still cracking, but there’s a spark of something in her eyes—maybe hope.

You hold her for a moment longer before she pulls away, offering you one last sad smile before heading out.

As she walks away, you spot Mike, standing alone in the corner, his face a mask of quiet devastation. His tears are falling silently as he watches the girl he just got back slip away from him once again. Without thinking, you walk over to him and wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders. No words are needed. He doesn’t need to hear anything right now. All he needs is to feel your silent support, your steady presence in the storm.

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Inside, the kids have come up with a bold plan to help Eleven and Will. It’s risky, but it just might work. It requires going into the tunnels buried deep beneath Hawkins, the map that Will made. You can see the logic in it, but Steve is having none of it.

“Hey! This is not happening. No buts. I promised I’d keep you guys safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job,” Steve says, his voice unwavering, protective.

“Does everybody understand?”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game,” Mike fires back.

“I said, does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

You suppress a giggle at Steve’s surprisingly maternal tone. He’s serious, but there’s something comforting in it too—something that makes you feel, for a second, like everything will be okay.

Just as the tension peaks, the roar of an engine cuts through the air, making everyone jump. Max rushes to the window, her face draining of color. “It’s my brother. He can’t know we’re here. He’ll kill us.”

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath, panic setting in.

“What?” Steve asks, his frown deepening.

“I kind of forgot I had a date with Billy tonight.”

“You what!?” Steve exclaims, his eyes widening in disbelief, his frustration bubbling over. “You had a date with Billy?”

“I was bored, and he asked me out last week. I wasn’t looking for anything more than a distraction,” you explain quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

“And you had to pick him as the distraction!?” Steve says, voice dripping with exasperation.

“Steve, this is really not the time to have this conversation,” you say, nudging him toward the door, trying to push aside the tension building between you two.

You quickly motion for the kids to hide, and despite his irritation, Steve swallows his pride and steps into action, focusing on getting Billy out of the way. His annoyance with you fades—momentarily—as the bigger picture takes precedence.

Peering through the peephole of the door, you try to hear what’s going on outside, but the muffled voices barely reach you. All you can make out is that, somehow, both men look equally stunning in their jeans. Truly, works of art.

But it’s Steve who keeps your attention. This is King Steve in his prime. He’s cool, collected, calm in the face of danger—no trace of fear in his demeanor. It’s a side of him that always caught your eye, but now, in this moment, seeing him like this, your heart pounds in your chest. It’s a protective side of him, the side that would do anything to keep you safe.

Suddenly, both men turn toward the window.

You snap your head over and see the kids, wide-eyed and standing at the window like idiots. “What did I tell you!?” you whisper-yell, panic creeping into your voice. You turn back to see Billy slam Steve to the ground, his strength too much for the man to handle in the moment.

“Get behind me!” you shout to the kids, feeling the urgency in your voice.

Billy crashes through the door, his expression shifting from rage to surprise when he sees you standing there.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dripping with a mix of venom and curiosity. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. Although, I’ve heard some… interesting things about you and Harrington.”

You square your shoulders, refusing to show even the slightest trace of fear. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you I can’t make it to our date tonight.”

“No,” Billy sneers, closing the space between you. “I don’t want Harrington’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

He takes another step, his breath grazing against your skin. “Now step aside, and let me talk to my sister.”

You push your fist gently against his chest, unflinching as you meet his eyes. “Billy, don’t. They’re just kids—let them hang out and have fun.”

Something dark flashes across his eyes, his patience thinning. “I said, step aside,” he growls, pushing past you with force and locking his gaze on Lucas. You stand your ground, knowing you’re not backing down. You’ll protect these kids, no matter what.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max. And you know what happens when you disobey me. I break things.” He sweeps Lucas off his feet and slams him into the refrigerator. You run to his side attempting to pull him off of Lucas, to no avail. 

“Billy, stop!” You grab hold of his arms. He looks at you for a brief moment and Lucas takes the opportunity to knee him in the crotch. Billy doubles over, wincing in pain.

“You’re so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead,” he spits, his voice full of fury as he glares at Lucas.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Steve bursts in, shoving you and Lucas behind him, positioning himself between you and Billy with a protective stance.

“No. You are.” He says before landing a solid punch to Billy’s jaw.

Billy laughs menacingly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all, huh? Been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Get out,” Steve warns, his tone cold and steady.

And like a trigger, Billy is launching another punch at Steve. Thankfully, he evades it and rebuttals, his fist making contact with Billy once more. Billy swiftly recovers, his movements sharp and brutal. He grabs a plate from the nearby counter and smashes it onto Steve’s head, sending shards flying everywhere and disorienting him. Billy drives a knee into Steve’s throat. Steve gasps, choking at the impact.

You lunge forward, desperate to defend Steve, but he manages to choke out a barely audible, “No.” Billy seizes the opportunity, his attention quickly shifting to you, sensing your hesitation. Before you can react, he lunges at you, his hands reaching for your throat.

But Steve, still struggling to regain his strength, forces himself to push through the pain. His vision is blurry, and his head spins, but the sight of you in danger snaps him into action. With a growl of determination, he forces himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tackles Billy to the ground, knocking him off balance.

Billy lets out a shout of anger, but Steve is relentless. He fights through his disorientation, throwing punch after punch, not allowing Billy a moment to recover. "Stay away from her!" Steve snarls, his voice filled with pure protectiveness as he shields you with his body.

Their struggle quickly moves into the living room, the sound of their grunts and the thud of fists against flesh filling the air. Billy, fueled by anger, overpowers Steve with brutal force. He pins Steve to the ground, delivering a hard punch to his jaw that sends a jolt of pain through Steve's entire body.

Fully depleted now, Steve endures blow after blow as Billy’s fists rain down on him. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come. Your body refuses to let you break down—not now. There’s no time for that. All that matters is thinking clearly and protecting your best friend.

The sedative. Where is the sedative they used on Will? Adrenaline surges through you as you search frantically, finally spotting it next to Max.

“MAX!” you shout, motioning to the syringe. She quickly hands it to you, and you rush to Steve’s side. With a swift motion, you jam the needle into Billy’s neck, pushing the plunger and releasing the toxin.

Billy looks at you, shock flooding his expression. Your breaths are uneven as you take a step back, trying to steady yourself. He staggers to his feet, the sedative starting to take hold. “What did you do to me?” he demands, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Don’t you ever touch him again,” you growl, stepping right into his space, daring him to make another move.

The silence after your shout feels suffocating, broken only by the shallow, ragged breaths coming from Steve. His bloodied face is pale, far too pale.

“Steve, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You promised me, remember?”

He stirs faintly at your words, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes remain closed.

“Lucas! Dustin!” you shout, desperation cracking through the last fragile shred of composure. “Help me get him up! Now!”

The boys rush over, wide-eyed and terrified. Together, they help lift Steve’s limp form, his head lolling against your shoulder. You cradle the back of his neck with one hand, holding him close as you stumble toward the car.

Max’s tearful voice barely registers, sharp and angry as she shouts at Billy. But you can’t care about him. Not now. Not when Steve is barely conscious.

“I swear to God, Harrington,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice tight with anger and fear.

You glance down at him as you help load him into the backseat, your hand trembling as it brushes over his bloodied cheek.

Reluctantly, you climb into the driver’s seat, stealing one last glance at him before gripping the wheel. Only a few days ago, you’d driven him home drunk from a party, his laughter slurring together as he teased you the entire ride. You never thought you’d be doing the same thing now—except this time, with blood on his face and fear in your chest.

“Where to?” You ask. “The pumpkin patch, we’ll direct you,” Mike replies. The engine roars to life, the car lurching forward as you tear down the road. “Keep him awake, guys,” you say, glancing into the rearview mirror. The boys nod hurriedly, their voices soft but urgent as they try to rouse him.

Dustin shakes Steve a little too aggressively. “Hey, buddy...It's okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. You're okay.” 

The car jolts over a pothole, and you wince, glancing back. “Sorry,” you murmur, guilt twisting in your stomach.

Steve’s head shifts, his lips parting like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a faint, pained sigh.

“Don’t even think about talking,” you snap, though your tone softens almost immediately. “Save it. You’re gonna need all your strength in a minute and don’t eyen get me started on tomorrow when I chew you out for this.” You force a bitter laugh, the sound more broken than you mean for it to be. “Trust me, Harrington, I will.”

A low groan escapes him, and his head turns slightly toward you, as if he’s trying to acknowledge your words.

Your hands tighten on the wheel as the car screeches to a stop outside the pumpkin patch. The boys jump out, voices overlapping as they shout about getting their supplies and jumping into the tunnels. But you stay frozen for a moment, staring back at Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you whisper, leaning back to catch one last glimpse of his face. “You’ve got one night to pull yourself together, Harrington. Because tomorrow? You and I—we’re not leaving anything unsaid.”

His swollen lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Oh, I’m holding out, alright. For what I’m planning to do to you when all this is over.”

Your breath catches, and you freeze, staring at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He lets out a weak, pained chuckle. “What? You think I’m gonna go down without giving you something to think about?”

You scoff, trying to keep your composure, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. “Hawkins is literally falling apart, Steve. You’re half-dead, we’re about to crawl into another dimension, tomorrow could change everything between us, and that’s what you’re focused on?”

“Gotta have priorities,” he murmurs, the smirk still somehow hanging on despite the pain etched across his face.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Just try not to get yourself killed before you can make good on all these big plans, Harrington.”

His smirk softens just slightly, something warmer flickering in his gaze before his eyelids grow heavy again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Now c’mon, let’s go play with fire,” you say with a wink before stepping out of the car.

“Wait! Wait!” Steve calls after you, hobbling out of the car despite the pain etched on his face. “You and the kids are not going down there,” he insists, his voice firm, though his winces betray him.

You spin around to meet him, crossing your arms. “Right. Because you’re clearly in peak condition to handle this yourself,” you retort, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

Steve takes a sharp breath, steadying himself. “It could be another ambush,” he counters, his voice softer now but laced with concern. His hand reaches out, catching your arm gently as if holding you in place will keep you safe.

You glance at his hand, then back at him. “Well…” You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing around, which earns you a heavy sigh and a wide-eyed stare from him. His breath hitches, his cheeks tinged pink.

“What are you doing?” he manages, his voice cracking slightly.

You pull out his lighter and hold it up with a smirk. “Good thing we have fire and they don’t,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye.

Steve exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, half in awe and half exasperated, but the small grin tugging at his lips gives him away.

“Now is not the time for your soap opera romance, people! Focus! Your job is to keep us alive,” Dustin grumbles, shoving bandanas and your weapons at both of you like an annoyed parent.

You stifle a laugh as you take one and wrap it around your face. Then, turning to Steve, you adjust his for him, tying it snugly behind his head.

“Thanks, mom,” Steve quips, his voice muffled through the fabric.

“Hey, at least she knows how to multitask,” Dustin fires back, rolling his eyes as he marches ahead into the tunnels.

You drop down into the dark tunnels behind the others, the strange, glowing particles swirling in the air like tiny stars. It’s eerie—ominous, even—but there’s a haunting beauty to it that almost distracts you from the danger. Almost.

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way. Follow me!” Mike announces, charging ahead with way too much confidence.

Steve stops him with an outstretched arm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No way. If any of you get hurt—or worse—down here, it’s my head on the chopping block. From now on, I’m leading the way. Got it?”

The kids exchange uncertain glances, and you catch yourself smiling. Watching Steve take charge, all protective and responsible, makes your heart ache in the best way. He’d make an amazing dad someday—wait, what? Where did that thought come from? You shake it off quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. You haven’t even sorted out your feelings, let alone—

“Come on, let’s move!” Steve says, cutting into your spiral.

The kids glance back at you, silently asking for reassurance. You chuckle and wave them forward. “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation? A little hustle, huh? I’ll be right behind you.”

As you move cautiously through the twisting tunnels, the air feels heavier with each step. Pods of various sizes cling to the walls and ceiling, pulsing faintly as if they’re alive. The eerie glow from within them illuminates the otherwise pitch-black space, casting strange shadows.

You notice Dustin stop to inspect one of the pods, his curiosity getting the better of him. A pang of concern hits you, so you linger behind, keeping an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t fall too far back from the group.

“Dustin, don’t—”

Before you can finish, the pod above him bursts, releasing a spray of viscous fluid. Dustin collapses to the ground, screaming in terror.

“Dustin!” you shout, rushing to his side as panic sets in. He’s coughing and gasping, clutching at his face.

The others quickly double back, finding you crouched beside a flailing Dustin. “It’s in my mouth! It’s in my mouth!” he chokes out, his voice frantic.

You grab his shoulders firmly and try to make him focus. “Hey! Dustin, look at me. You’re fine! It’s okay!” His mask is soaked, so you pull it down and shake him lightly to break through his panic. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe!”

Finally, his gasps slow, and his breathing steadies as he leans into you for comfort. “I thought I was gonna die,” he mutters dramatically, clutching your arm like a lifeline.

From behind, Steve’s flashlight beam lands on you both, his expression a mix of exasperation and mild jealousy.

“Alright, Romeo,” Steve cuts in, stepping closer with a mock-stern glare. “Hands off.” He uses his flashlight to nudge Dustin away from you, shaking his head as the boy reluctantly lets go.

Dustin groans, “Come on, man. I almost died!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re fine. Let’s move.”

Finally, you venture into the hub that Mike was speaking of.

“Let’s drench it,” you say, your voice steady and determined.

Steve nods in agreement, hefting a can of fuel. “You heard her. Let’s get to work.”

The kids scatter, pouring the fuel across the floor and onto the vines, their expressions grim as they focus on the task. You work alongside Steve, each of you silently mirroring the other’s urgency.

“Careful not to miss a spot,” Steve says, glancing your way.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” you reply, pouring fuel over a particularly thick vine.

Nearby, Dustin struggles with his fuel can, muttering under his breath. “Why are these things always heavier than they look?”

Steve smirks and steps over to help, taking the can from him with ease. “Here, let me. And don’t spill it on yourself, genius, unless you’re volunteering to go up in flames.”

Dustin scowls but doesn’t argue. “I wasn’t gonna spill it. I’m not a total moron.”

“Debatable,” Steve teases, ruffling Dustin’s hair before handing the can back.

You glance at the kids, ensuring they’re staying safe and focused. “Alright, guys, keep spreading it evenly. We’re almost done.”

Lucas passes you, carefully pouring his fuel along the edge of the tunnel. “What if this doesn’t work?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly.

You crouch beside him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “It’ll work. We’ve got this.”

Once the fuel is spread, everyone regroups in the center of the hub. The tension in the air is almost suffocating as you all take a moment to catch your breath. You pull the lighter from your pocket, flicking it open and closed as you exchange a glance with Steve.

“Ready to light these bastards up?” you ask, your voice laced with defiance.

Steve adjusts the bat slung over his shoulder and gives you a small nod. “Ready when you are.”

The kids tighten their makeshift masks, and you do one last check of the group. Dustin looks pale but determined, Mike is fidgeting nervously, and Max’s expression is set with fierce resolve.

“Alright,” Steve says, his voice steady as he looks at the kids. “Masks on, stay close, and whatever you do, don’t breathe this crap in. Let’s finish this.”

You flick the lighter, the small flame dancing in the dim, oppressive air. For a second, the world stills. Everyone holds their breath, watching as you crouch and lower the flame to the fuel-soaked ground.

The fire catches immediately, roaring to life and snaking outward like a living thing. It licks up the walls and races down the tendrils of vine, consuming everything in its path. The flames glow an angry orange-red, casting the tunnels in an eerie, hellish light.

A deafening screech echoes through the chamber as the vines react violently to the fire. The tendrils convulse, writhing and snapping like cornered animals. They whip against the walls and ceiling, sending dust and debris raining down around you.

“Move! Move back!” Steve shouts, grabbing your arm and pulling you a safe distance from the inferno.

The kids scramble, their faces a mix of awe and terror as they watch the fire spread rapidly, overtaking the entire hub.

“What the hell!” Dustin yells, ducking as a tendril slams into the wall near him.

“It’s working!” Mike exclaims, his voice tinged with equal parts fear and exhilaration.

The vines’ convulsions grow more frantic, their shrill screeches reverberating in your ears. They thrash wildly, almost as if they’re alive—and dying. One massive tentacle swings dangerously close, slamming into a cluster of pods and sending a burst of fluid and ash into the air.

“We need to get out of here!” Max shouts, tugging at Lucas, who is staring in horrified fascination at the destruction.

Steve steps in, gripping Lucas by the collar and pulling him back. “Yeah, no sightseeing! Let’s go!”

You cast one last look at the flames, the fire consuming the heart of the Upside Down’s hold on Hawkins. The once-terrifying tendrils are now nothing more than flailing, dying beasts. For a moment, there’s a flicker of hope.

But the ground shakes violently beneath your feet, and you realize this isn’t over.

“Run!” you shout, ushering the kids toward the exit.

Steve keeps pace beside you, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure everyone is moving. “You heard her! Don’t stop for anything!”

The flames roar louder, the tunnel filling with chaos as the Upside Down fights back. The group is moving quickly through the winding tunnels, the glow of the burning hub fading behind you.

“Keep up, guys!” You call out, your flashlight bouncing off the walls as you attempt to find the exit.

Suddenly, Mike stumbles over a root jutting from the ground and crashes to the floor. Before you can help him up, a slimy tendril shoots out from the wall, wrapping around his ankle and yanking him backward.

“Mike!” you shout, sprinting toward him.

The tendril tightens, dragging him closer to the pulsing wall. Mike’s panicked cries echo through the tunnel as he claws at the ground.

“Help me!”

You  dive for his arms, your hands gripping him tightly. “I’ve got you!”

Steve spins around at the commotion, his eyes widening. “Stay on him!” he yells, rushing forward with his bat.

The kids surround Mike, grabbing onto his arms and torso as the tendril pulls with unnerving strength.

“Hold him!” Steve growls, swinging his bat at the vine. His first hit barely leaves a mark. The tendril writhes, nearly yanking Mike out of your grasp.

“Steve, hurry!” you shout, your muscles burning as you fight to keep your grip.

Mike’s voice is strained with panic. “It’s pulling me in!”

Steve delivers another blow, this time severing the tendril with a sickening snap. The vine recoils, flailing wildly before retreating back into the wall. Mike collapses into your arms, trembling and gasping for breath. “You okay?” you ask, brushing the dust off his face and pulling him into a quick hug. “I think so,” he croaks, his wide eyes darting to the now lifeless tendril. Steve leans down, resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Mike nods weakly.

“Good,” Steve says, his voice softer now, though he glances at you briefly, the tension in his face still evident. “Let’s move before that thing decides to grow back.”

You stand, helping Mike to his feet. As the group regroups, you catch Steve’s gaze. “You did good,” you murmur. “Yeah, well, keeping you guys alive isn’t easy,” he replies, smirking faintly before turning to lead the way again.

Then, a deep, guttural growl stops you in your tracks. Dustin freezes, wide-eyed. “That’s… not good.”

From the darkness ahead, a massive shape emerges, slinking into view with an unnerving fluidity. It’s Dart. The Demodog’s slick, reptilian skin gleams faintly in the dim light, and its jaws part to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. It lets out a shrill roar, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

“Of course it’s Dart!” Steve groans, shoving the kids behind him. “Why wouldn’t it be Dart?”

Dustin steps forward, desperation on his face. “Wait, wait! Maybe he remembers me! I can calm him down.”

Steve grabs his arm, pulling him back. “Yeah, no offense, but your little monster is definitely not in the mood for a reunion!”

Dart crouches low, muscles tensing, ready to pounce.

Uh, guys,” you say, your voice trembling as you slowly pull out the bat Steve handed you earlier. “We’re cornered.”

Dart takes a cautious step forward, sniffing the air. His dark, soulless eyes lock onto you, then shift to Steve, who raises his bat defensively.

“Stay behind me,” Steve orders, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not hiding while you get mauled!” you snap, gripping your weapon tighter.

“Guys!” Mike yells. “We don’t have time for this!”

Dustin tries again, his voice trembling. “Dart, buddy, it’s me! Remember the nougat?” He pulls a crumpled candy bar from his pocket and holds it out, his hand shaking.

For a moment, Dart pauses, sniffing the air again. He tilts his head, the faintest hint of recognition crossing his monstrous features.

“It’s working,” Dustin whispers, inching forward.

“Now, go!” Dustin orders. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you forward, motioning for the others to follow.

The group moves in a sprint, darting toward the exit, not daring to look back. Behind you, Dart is still distracted, munching on the nougat.

You push yourself harder, the adrenaline of escape keeping you going. “Almost there!” you call out, knowing Dart won’t stay distracted for long.

Finally, the light from the exit hits your eyes. As you and the group prepare to exit the tunnels, the ground begins to shake. The walls tremble, and the air vibrates with a low, ominous rumble. Dust falls from above, and a low, guttural growl echoes through the tunnel. The unmistakable sound of hundreds of Demodogs heading your way.

“They’re coming,” you whisper urgently, your heart racing. You turn to Steve, your mind spinning with the mounting pressure. “We need to get out of here, now.”

He’s already helping the kids climb up to the hole in the ceiling, pushing them toward safety as fast as possible. But when it’s your turn, the panic sets in.

“Your turn,” Steve urges, pointing at the hole, trying to push you towards it.

You shake your head, your expression firm but laced with concern. “No. You go first.”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this!” He insists, the sound of the Demodogs’ claws scraping against the floor growing louder.

“Then I’m staying with you,” you say, your voice unwavering. 

Your pulse quickens as you feel the ground shake harder, the sound of the Demodogs’ approach growing closer with every passing second. “Y/N, please—just go! It’s not safe.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you say, your voice full of determination. “Not now. Not ever.”

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. The panic is consuming you both, but his steady presence is like a tether, anchoring you in the chaos. You can feel the weight of his promise, the silent pledge to protect you no matter the cost. You hesitate for a moment, but then something clicks inside you. You’ve been through too much together, and you’re not about to let fear make the decision for you. Steve looks at you, his expression softening, though the worry still lingers in his eyes. He nods, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer.

Suddenly, the ground shakes again, and you hear the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against the tunnel floor. The Demodogs are close—too close. But then, as if by some strange twist of fate, the creatures don’t come for you. Instead, they race past you, heading in the opposite direction, their growls growing fainter as they disappear down the tunnel. You freeze, your mind struggling to make sense of it. Why aren’t they attacking? Steve tightens his hold on you, his breath shaky as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” His voice is a whisper, full of relief but still tinged with concern.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “Yeah.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face full of worry and something else—a deep, unspoken relief. He brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says softly, his voice low and steady, his hand still firmly holding yours.

You and the kids stumble out of the tunnels, breathless and bruised. The night sky feels cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat and chaos of the tunnels. But there’s no time to rest—you’re all still on edge, still feeling the tremors of what you narrowly escaped.

The first thing you notice is the light. A blinding, intense beam from the car ahead, cutting through the night and casting everything in stark relief. It’s almost overwhelming, too bright to look at directly, but as you squint into the darkness, you realize it’s the lights from the car, but something else is happening.

The car’s headlights seem to grow brighter with every passing second, as though mirroring the strength of Eleven’s power, forcing the rift to shrink back into itself. The ground trembles beneath your feet once again, but this time, it feels like something is being retracted, something is ending.

“Is it… over?” Max breathes, almost in disbelief, her voice raw from the tension.

Finally, just as the light from the car reaches its peak, it suddenly begins to fade. The ground stills beneath your feet, the air grows quieter, and the frantic pulse of energy that had been surging through the night starts to die down.

“It’s done,” Dustin says softly, a mix of wonder and disbelief in his voice.

Mike nods slowly, “She really did it.”

You turn to Steve. His eyes meet yours, and you can see it in the way he looks at you—relief, exhaustion, and something else. The world is slowly righting itself, and for the first time, you feel the quiet after the storm settle in your bones.

“It’s over,” you whisper to him.

A soft smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah… it really is.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, the sterile white walls of Hawkins National Lab feel like a cold reminder of everything that happened. Doctor Owens moves through the room with practiced ease, checking your vitals with a detached professionalism, while he hands you a stack of non-disclosure agreements to sign. You nod, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting in and out of the haze of the previous night.

As you sign the papers, you catch a glimpse of Steve across the hall, another doctor checking on him. Your eyes meet for the briefest of moments, an unspoken connection hanging in the air before you quickly look away, your heart sinking with the weight of unasked questions. Did he mean it? Was it the chaos of the night, the adrenaline of survival, that made him say what he did? Or was there more to it?

After the checkups, you find yourself outside the lab, the fresh air offering little relief from the turmoil inside your head. Steve’s there, waiting for you, his expression uncertain but soft. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “You okay?”

For a split second, you want to reach out, to let him comfort you, to talk about everything that’s been weighing on you. But the doubts won’t let you. Not yet. You force a tight smile, shaking your head. “I’m fine. Can you just give me a ride home?”

Steve nods, but his face falls, disappointment flickering in his eyes. You can see it—the same uncertainty that’s been eating at you, mirrored in him. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make it better. You get into his car in silence, the tension between you palpable. The ride home feels endless, the space between you growing with each passing mile.

Steve’s thoughts swirl as he drives. He can’t help but wonder if it’s the fear of last night still lingering, or if something deeper is at play. Maybe you don’t believe him, or maybe you’re just scared to believe it’s real. Either way, the distance between you both hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He thought that after everything, after all the danger, you two would finally have a chance to be honest with each other. But now, all he can do is drive, silently aching for a chance to bridge the gap—if you’d only let him.

[fly1nglow]

WHEN THE BELLS RING (1).

summary ── steve is desperate to make his work environment a less unbearable place and the newly arrived teacher could be a good distraction.

pairings & characters ── teacher!steve x teacher!fem!reader, some ocs

additional info & warnings ── fluff, slow burn, reader is supposed to be a ‘big city girl’, reader is also kinda anxious, little steve pov inserted, i guess steve is not accurate but i tried my best </3, no warnings besides that, i guess

author’s notes: ok… so this is my first fanfic after sooo long, but this idea came to me in a dream and i wanted to write, i feel like it kinda sucks but i also just wanna have some fun writing again. also… i know this must be annoying but… should i say english isn’t my first language (and that i dont know how the educational system of united states works)? :/, that should be all, pls be kind <3

The breeze passed through the leaves gently, taking some to the windshield, it was a really pleasant scene to enjoy in autumn, but it was also a great change of scenery in your opinion: Hawkins, from what you knew and had seen so far at that moment, it felt like that kind of small town you see in movies, where everyone knows everyone and nothing really happens, very different from what you had grown up with and lived with all your life, which were noisy cities, tall buildings and people who really didn't care. they paid attention to you.

But sudden changes weren't very pleasant either, yet here you were, in a small town in the middle of Indiana.

After taking another sip of your coffee, hoping the drink would distract you from something you didn't yet know you feared, you grabbed your bag and threw in the items that would be needed to survive your first day of work at Hawkins Public School. Your keys, notebooks and books were everything he considered really essential for the day.

Getting out of the car, you clutched the cup with the now cold drink in your hands, placed your bag in your arms, and headed towards the clearly old but friendly-looking building in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

Steve was curious to know who would replace Mrs. Brown, because although he got along with most people, his coworkers didn't exactly fit into that category. They were mostly middle-aged people, who thought he was childish, whether because of his age or the way he acted, he still didn't know for sure, but he knew they were his age once and he hoped they would be kinder.

However, he still didn't know how meeting 'the newbie' could help his case, he figured, that maybe by getting to know him first he could get some information and then pass it on to his colleagues, maybe then they would see him as someone helpful and trustworthy, but he still didn't know how that would help him.

It was lost in these thoughts that he found himself in the still empty hallway and in front of Mrs. Brown's old door, now weathered and which he knew made a loud noise when it was pushed in a certain way and now, he was a little unsure, a very different feeling compared to the confident and playful Steve of just a few years ago. But his movements seemed not to follow his thoughts, because now he had knocked on the door.

Before he could step back and get him out of there, he opened the door after hearing a muffled and distant voice say 'come in'.

‘‘Good morning.’’ Steve laughed and hurried over.

‘‘Oh, good morning!’’ A young-looking woman, who was pasting some notices on the wall, turned to face him, left the materials on the table and approached to greet him, as he was approaching.

‘‘I’m Professor Harrington, but you can actually call me Steve, you know, I guess it’s okay, in fact I prefer to be called that…’’

Now he was rambling. He extended his hand for a shake, which she readily accepted. Now closer, he could notice a few more small details about her: her hair was slightly messy, perhaps due to the wind outside, there was also a small piece of adhesive tape stuck near the collar of her pullover sweater, but he pretended not to notice, afraid that she would think he was looking more than he should.

‘‘Well, I’m a physical education teacher. I thought it would be a good idea to stop by and say hi.’’

She then introduced herself.

‘���That’s very kind of you, Steve.’’

‘‘Well…’’ Steve looked around the room, but his mind was looking for some way to keep the conversation going, or maybe an excuse to leave. ‘‘Do you need help? Do you already know the building? You know I can…’’

Great, he was rambling again. Good way to make a good impression, right?

‘‘Actually, if you guys have a coffee machine, I’d love to know where it is.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

You definitely hadn't thought much when you left your room and decided to follow Professor Harrington to the staff room, a small room, with white walls, two windows, shelves full of books, papers, some chairs and tables. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable place you'd ever seen. But you just wanted to distract yourself from the hustle and bustle of your own thoughts, because the first day of work had left you exhausted and it hadn't even started yet.

Also, you weren't the type to jump to conclusions because of appearance, but the first thing you noticed was that Steve had adorable eyes that seemed to match the type of person he was. And at the moment he seemed like a lovely person. That he talked a lot.

He had recently talked about how he grew up in the city and how it was a little strange teaching the children of people he had known all his life. You also shared some facts, about where you grew up and where you studied, all while he observed you carefully and asked some questions to keep the conversation going.

‘‘So why did you come here?’’

‘‘Salary, obviously.’’

You tried to joke and he chuckled weakly at your little attempt at being funny. Steve looked away from your figure, as you were drinking the second cup of coffee of the day, he observed the other person who entered the room, but who still didn't notice the presence of the two of you in the room. This made Steve get a little closer to you, still keeping an acceptable distance but so that only you could hear him whisper:

‘‘That’s Professor Watson, from physics… A pain in the ass at first, but if he likes you, he might get you a discount on drinks at a bar.’’

‘‘Discounts in a bar? Why?’’ You whispered back, while trying to focus on the new figure that appeared: it was a small man in comparison to Steve, his hair already showing signs of getting gray and he had a serious face.

‘‘His sister owns one of the bars in town, she always gives discounts to his friends and colleagues.’’

‘‘And you, do you have a discount there?’’

‘‘No, he hates me. But who knows, maybe you’ll be luckier than me.’’

‘‘Good strategy, Harrington, you barely know me and you’re already trying to use me to get discounts at bars?’’

You both laughed and soon the sound caught the attention of the person who was previously the center of the conversation. Steve quickly distanced himself and silently indicated with signs for you to follow him and then, there followed another one of those social formalities that people tend to forget happened easily: introducing yourself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

And introducing yourself was the key word and the pattern that followed for practically the entire day: introducing yourself to your colleagues, students and some parents.

The students were as you expected them to be, lively students who preferred talking to their classmates rather than paying attention in class, but, luckily or perhaps your own teaching talent, you managed to get them to pay attention to what you were saying. and they were able to apply their knowledge well to their tasks. As for your coworkers, excluding Steve, your colleagues weren't exactly the warmest and friendliest people you knew, but that didn't take up much space in your mind.

Not long after the last bell rang, you were getting ready to end the day at work and return to your cozy home. Until two knocks on the door distracted you.

Peeking through the half-open door, you quickly realized who it was: Steve trying to be helpful again.

‘‘Do you need help there, newbie?’’

You didn't mind the small informalities when you were quick to decline his help.

‘‘No need, I was already finishing it anyway.’’

He pretended to look disappointed, you couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You quickly finished your things and grabbed your bag, and left the room with Steve following right behind you.

‘‘You know,’’ Steve began as you both walked down the corridor, ‘‘that’s the good part about being a physical education teacher, I don’t need a room, just some balls and a court.’’

‘‘It’s easy when a good number of children love the chance to be aggressive without being reprimanded.’’

‘‘It is,’’ Steve agreed, a fond smile on his face. ‘‘Kids can be a handful, but they mean well. Today, one of them lobbed a ball right at my stomach, but they made up for it with a lollipop as an apology.’’

‘‘A lollipop," you chuckled, ‘‘the universal peace offering.’’

‘‘If lollipops didn't work wonders, doctors wouldn't hand them out after every appointment,’’ Steve quipped, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Steve walked you to the parking lot, soon stopping near what you assumed was his car. You turned to see him and to say goodbye.

‘‘See you tomorrow, newbie,’’ Steve grinned.

‘‘See you tomorrow, Professor Harrington,’’ you replied with a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes and got into the car, making your way to your own car as you watched him get further away. Placing your arms a little closer to your body to avoid the cold, you could reflect a little on that end of the day as you once again observed the parking lot, now a little darker as the sun was already hiding, but which you expected to see for a while, for many more days.

In that silence, you could conclude that the first day of work had not been as horrible and terrifying as you had expected.

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Chapter Three: I Am A Rock

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

Summary: turns out running on barely an hour of sleep has consequences. Y/n goes for a drives, gossips, meets Steve (not just him staring at her from across the parking lot) and has a mental breakdown!

Previous Chapter

words: 4k

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of death, swearing, stalking, mentions of sex, nonconsensual pictures, Steve Harrington being an asshole, sleep deprivation and its effects

The alarm clock reads 12:08 am. You toss and turn, fluff your pillows, tighten your blanket around you but nothing eases the stress. Your dad had long since gone to bed so putting on a record was out of the question. You hadn’t written in a journal in months and you weren’t keen to start now. It was far too late to go on a jog. You glance at the clock again. 12:10 am. 

“Fuck”

Your contemplation hadn’t even passed the time. Throwing the blankets off, you huff up from the bed. The carpeted floors protect your feet from the cold. Feeling around in the dark, you open your dresser and pull out a pair of wool socks to brave the hardwood of the rest of the house. You step into the hallway, using the light from the living room lamp to illuminate your path. As quietly as possible, you fill the kettle and set it on the stove. You glance to your left and spot your book from where you’d left it in the morning. 

You’d honestly forgotten about it, but realize that this could be exactly what you need to settle your mind. As you wait for the water to warm up, you lean against the counter and use the soft  stove light to read. You’ve made it two chapters farther by the time the water gets hot enough. 

Armed with your tea and book, you set yourself up on the couch. Honestly, for being a paperback romance, A Pirate’s Love was rather compelling. Anastasia’s character arc wasn’t too bad. You suppose that of stock female leads, she did have a fair bit of agency. And her friendship with the pirate Robert made their romance seem pretty natural. You did doubt how historically accurate it was that Anastasia would have become the captain of a ship after only a year at sea. 

In no time, you were nearing the end of the book. 

“Well? What shall it be?” Captain Jones yelled at Anastasia, “your ship or your love?” at the last word, his blade pressed into Robert’s back, pushing him farther along the plank and pulling a strangled cry from the man. “No!” Anastasia roared, caught in the helpless situation. If she saved Robert, Captain Jones would seize immediate control of her ship and crew. Her hard-won freedom would slip from her fingers and everything she had sacrificed would be for naught. 

But if she chose her ship, she would lose Robert. Robert, who’d been her ticket out of the arranged marriage. Robert, who’d first taught her how to sail. Robert, who had been the only person by her side for the past 3 years. The man she loved, whom she was not sure she could navigate this or any other life without.

“Tick tock, lassie,” drawled captain Jones. He wickedly sneered at the woman, and she couldn’t help but be disgusted at the rotting teeth and sickly skin. 

Anastasia was frozen in panic. All she could do was flit her eyes between Jones, Robert, and her crew. Landing her eyes on Robert, he stared at her, lips a small, almost resigned frown. 

He took a step farther on the plank. 

“Robert! No!” cried Anastasia. 

“Let me make the choice easy, my love”

With that, Robert, quick as a rabbit, turned around, grabbed hold of captain jones, and pulled him tight to himself. He then used all his might and hurled them off the plank, together.

You slam the book shut. “What the fuck” you whisper. You had managed to get lost within the story, but the ending made you remember everything you were trying desperately to forget. You beeline for the trash and angrily throw the book in there. “Shit,” you say aloud, wringing out your hands, desperate to shake off the stress. 

You sneak a peek at the oven clock–it's just past 2 am. You feel trapped and the walls are moving in on you and the shadows look darker and your hands feel clammy and a bead of sweat trickles down your back and– you need to get out of here. You slide on your sneakers by the door, grab your keys and leave and quickly and quietly as you can. 

The ignition in your truck stalls a minute and the panic begins to set in again. You turn the key once more, and finally the engine starts. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and back out of the driveway. 

The windows are down and cold air hits your face. Normally, you’d recoil at the aggressive wind and biting cold, but now they are welcome distractions from the turmoil in your mind. The only sound is the rushing of the air. At the first red light, you reach into your glovebox and randomly pull a cassette out. You shove it into the port, not paying attention to it, and turn the volume up to overcome the noises of the truck. A familiar guitar melody lets you know you’re listening to Simon and Garfunkel.

Satisfied with the music, you blast down the roads of Hawkins, singing (screaming) along to the lyrics. As the songs continue, you recognize this as a mixtape you made a few years ago. You’d just gotten a tape recorder and the quality reflects your inexperience with the machine. There’s a clear switch when your dad had clearly taken over the recording, the audio suddenly becoming much clearer. In your mindless driving, you’ve ended up at lake Jordan. You park your car, head no longer swimming. You turn your truck off, and grateful at your earlier forgetfulness, grab your walkman from the passenger seat and the cassette from the deck, as well as Jonathan’s jacket. 

Out in the darkness, you lie in the bed of your truck, Jonathan’s jacket wrapped around you, staring up at the stars. You don’t recognize any constellations, but you attempt to make some up. A snake, a butterfly, a gun–no, not a gun, a vase. A vase with a flower in it. 

Side A ends, but when you flip the tape, it takes longer than normal for it to start playing. You pull the headphones around your neck and hold up the walkman trying to inspect it. 

The crack of a twig pierces through the dark silence. You would almost miss it, if not for the headphones on your ears. After a beat, you don’t hear anything else, and assume it's probably an animal somewhere in the woods. You give up on your walkman and, finally tired, you return to the cabin of your truck and begin the journey home. 

If you hadn’t had your music so loud, you probably would’ve heard the monstrous roar coming from the trees. 

––––––

You manage to get an hour of sleep before your morning alarm goes off. The coffee is twice as strong this morning and you down a cup and a half. The chilly air that you’d normally detest is, for the second time today, welcome as it keeps you awake on your drive. Tonight, you vow, you will actually get a decent night’s sleep. 

Practice is uneventful. Stacy, the only other junior on the team, asks for a few tips for diving and landing on her knees. You give her the pointers she asked for, albeit through several yawns. She seems to understand it though, and acts on your guidance, picking up the skills rather easily. Throughout the final scrimmage, you and her take turns saving the ball from hitting the floor. 

In the locker room, you’re one of the first to hit the showers and miraculously, the water is warm. You wipe the sweat and grime of the gym off your body and take a few extra seconds to hold your head under the showerhead, letting the water hit your face. 

Your wet hair sticks to your face as you get dressed, mindlessly listening to the idle chit-chat of the locker room. You have a few minutes before the bell will ring, so you sit on the floor against your locker and pull out your walkman. Removing the mixtape, you replace it with a cassette from your backpack–some ABBA album. You hit the play button and the tape starts up perfectly. You roll your eyes at how erratic your walkman can be and slip the headphones over your ears. 

Second period is full of notes being passed and whispered shared, despite the quiz. None of the information is shared with you directly, but you manage to overhear two names: Steve and Nancy. It's clearly salacious information, as it has the student body abuzz for the rest of the day. You sneak a glance at Nancy in the hallway and the girl seems distraught. You wonder, for a moment, if she and Steve had broken up, but then he waltzes up to her and plants a kiss on her and you’re left speculating again.

Your curiosities are finally answered in seventh period. Mr. Burkhart lets the class have an independent study day (you’re pretty sure he just doesn’t have anything planned) and Stacy, who sits next you, chats your ear off. Stacy seems to know everything going on within the halls of Hawkins. “And then I heard from from Anna P, who heard from Jimmy, who heard from Gareth, who overheard Tommy H that apparently Nancy Wheeler spent the night in Steve’s room, if you know what I mean,” she wiggles her eyebrows, insinuating the not-so-family-friendly activities that went on between the couple. 

“How does Tommy H even know that?” you ask her.

“Apparently, he was there.”

“What, like, in the room?”

“No! He saw them go into Steve’s room and I guess he heard them totally doing it.”

“That's gross. Like, really gross. Tommy H is a total perv. I bet he was listening at the door.”

“Ew! Y/n, that's gross to even think about.”

“He’s the one going around telling everyone about Steve and Nancy.”

Stacy takes a minute to consider that. 

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Steve’s house is pretty big, I’ve been in it and Tommy H would totally have to try to be listening to hear anything.” She shudders at the thought of the freckled boy trying to hear Steve and Nancy through the wall, “Ew, that’s totally skeezy of him. Especially when his girlfriend was probably there.”

“Carol was probably listening with him.”

Stacy giggles at that. Speaking of Carol, you glance in her direction and subtly stare as she and Nichole huddle together, whispering. You can’t tell what they’re speaking about, but you gather it's something more serious than Steve Harrington’s sexual escapades, if you can tell anything from Carol’s furrowed brow and Nichole’s concerned face. 

You turn back towards Stacy and interrupt her rambling about how gross both Carol and Tommy H are, “Why does anyone care if Steve and Nancy had sex? I mean, Carol and Tommy H practically devour each other in the halls constantly, but no one bats an eye.”

She blinks at that, clearly unprepared for the question. “Um,” she answers, “I don’t know…”

She trails off, and the conversation slowly dies as she flounders trying to find another conversation topic that won’t end as awkwardly. 

You turn your attention back to the two girls on the other side of the classroom. Nichole and Carol both rise from their seats and leave the room. 

Your eyelids once again start drooping, clearly the caffeine from the coke you had at lunch is wearing off. The gentle chatter of the classroom and the whirring of the desk fan lull you into a gentle daze. You quickly ask Stacy to wake you in ten minutes before resting your head on your arms and dozing off. 

A gentle shake wakes you from your nap and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. The power nap helped you, but you doubt you’ll last much longer without more caffeine. You glance over to see the girls have returned at some point during your nap. You get the hall pass from your teacher and make your way to your locker. Grabbing a few bills from your wallet, you beeline for the vending machine. Turning the corner, you crash into a body, and in your tired state, fall to the floor. 

“Oh jeez,” a masculine voice says, “Here, let me just-”

Standing above you, hand outstretched, is Steve Harrington. You stare at him dumbly for a minute before he waves it in front of you and you come to your senses. You grab his hand and he easily hoists you up. 

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

He gives you an apologetic smile and his eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. 

“It's fine,” you brush off his apology, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Shit!” he exclaims as he looks to his left. You follow his line of sight and see a dented can of coke, slightly leaking. You cringe and offer an apology, which he waves off, “It's fine, I’ll just get another one.”

“I’m uh, headed the same way.” you offer and he nods in response. 

“It's Y/n, right?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you answer warily.

“You’re on the…soccer team?”

“Volleyball, actually.”

“Ah sorry.”

“Its fine”

“How come we’ve never talked before? I know most of the volleyball girls come to my parties. Stacy, Anna, Patty…”

“I’m not really a party person”

“Got it”

The pair of you reach the vending machine and he lets you go first. You deposit your bills, receive your coke and your change. You offer the coins up to Steve, “Here. I kinda killed your first can, so…”

You tense at your own choice of words.

He doesn’t notice though and barks out a laugh. He takes them, inserting them and getting a new coke. “Cheers, killer”

You tense even more at the moniker, but clink your can to his. You down the can as fast as possible while he sips idly. He salutes as you wordlessly leave, walking back to your classroom.

You spend the rest of the period catching up on some of the work you missed yesterday. Stacy peers over your shoulder, nosy as ever, and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yesterday’s work I missed.”

“Oh yeah! I meant to ask you where you were?”

You turn pale at the probing. You know she means well, but you’ve been avoiding reminders of the incident all day. Still, you answer her, “Benny Hammond, uh, died and I had to go to the police station to give them a statement.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry. I had no clue. God, this town is getting crazy. First the Byers kid, now this,” her voice takes a gentle note, “I can’t believe you came in today. No one would blame you if you missed a day, you know”

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

“I know, I just didn’t want to skip school. Plus I had a quiz in second period today.”

You shrug your shoulders and hope she lets it go. She takes a breath, as if she is going to push the topic but ultimately says nothing. 

The final bell rings and the students flood the halls of Hawkins High School. You rush to your locker, grabbing your bag haphazardly. Groups of students clump together by their cars discussing carpools, gossip, and tonight’s football game. You throw your bag in your truck and fish out Jonathan’s jacket. Glancing around the carpark, you don’t spot him, but you do eye his car and start walking, intending to wait for him. 

Oddly enough, Steve and his friends are also at his car. Gone is Steve’s carefree demeanor from earlier. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, clearly distraught over whatever the group is discussing.

The group tenses as you approach. Steve offers you a curt nod. 

“Whats up, killer?”

You scrunch your brows at the nickname that has unfortunately stuck. 

“I’m just waiting for Jonathan. What are you guys doing?” you ask, warily. There is a sinister air about them, and whatever has transpired in the last 30 minutes has Steve��s hackles raised. He doesn’t answer you, having spotted something over your shoulder that distracts him. He stands from his position on Jonathan’s trunk.

“Hey man.”

Jonathan looks just as confused as you feel. “What's going on?” He asks, eyes flicking between everyone before landing on you. You shrug your shoulders at him. 

Steve responds to the smaller boy, “Nichole was just telling us about some of your work.”

Carol pipes up with a smirk, “We’ve heard great things.”

It seems that Jonathan connects dots that you don’t have, and you feel slightly stupid for being the only one in the group that doesn’t understand what's going on. You grip Jonathan’s jacket tighter in your hands. 

Steve continues, “We’d just love to take a look, you know–as connoisseurs of art.”

Jonathan looks back at you, some unreadable emotion dancing across his face, and attempts to break through the group to get to his car. Unfortunately, Tommy H is quicker than him, and pulls his bag off his shoulder and tosses it to Steve. “Man,” Steve says nastily, “he’s totally tripping, he must have something to hide.”

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

You stare transfixed at the pages in your hand. Barbara Holland sits on the edge of a diving board, a sad look on her face. Nancy Wheeler through the window–shirtless. A familiar pit settles in your stomach. 

Tommy and Carol pull the stack from you and start combing through them. 

“Dude!” Tommy H yells and Carol backs him up, “Yeah this totally isn’t creepy at all.”

Jonathan seems to find his voice and defends himself, “I was looking for my brother.”

“No,” Steve counters, “no, this is called stalking.”

“What’s going on?” a new, gentle voice joins the mix. You look over to see Nancy Wheeler, the focal point of many of Jonathan’s photos. 

“Here comes the starring lady,” Tommy teases.

“What?” she questions

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol responds and hands the girl a photo from the bunch, “He was probably going to save this one for later.”

You look down at the jacket in your hands as Carol explains. Last night? That means he was probably just getting done with taking the photos when you found him. Was his empathy a ploy to throw you off of his creepy scent? You thought you knew him fairly well. Hell, he was probably your closest friend. Christ, that’s depressing: a kid you only know fairly well is your closest friend.your train of thought spirals further, spinning farther out of control. Your closest friend, a kid you only know fairly well, is a total creep!

“See, you can tell he knows that it's wrong,” Steve begins laying into the boy, “But that's the thing about perverts. It's hardwired into them, you know, they just can’t help themselves.”

He begins ripping apart the pictures in his hands.

“So you just have to take away his toy.”

The taller boy grabs the camera and you take the tiniest step towards him. You don’t know how you’re going to stop him, and you certainly can’t defend Jonathan’s actions, but breaking the camera would take it too far. 

“Steve,” Nancy clearly has the same sentiment. 

“C’mon man, not the camera,” Jonathan begs.

“Hey, hey ok,” Steve calls out, extending his hand with the camera towards Jonathan. 

There's a split second where you think that the issue has been resolved and Steve has cooled down. Then the camera is in a million pieces on the ground. Jonathan makes a strangled noise. The air is stolen from your lungs. Your feet are frozen to the ground. 

Steve shoulders past the devastated boy, his posse following. He looks back at you, his eyebrow raised– a clear invitation to join them. You stay rooted to your spot, unable to move and his eyes narrow. His clear brown eyes hold a fierceness in them and you know your inaction is a decision to him. 

“Nancy, c’mon!” he beckons her over and she stands from where you hadn’t noticed her collecting pieces of the torn photos. Before she leaves, she stares at you. Her eyes flick to the jacket in your hands. Her blue eyes are wide and slightly watery. They make the rest of her feel that much smaller. Her nose is slightly red from the cold and her lips are pressed in a thin line. She seems so fragile in this moment, like a slightly-too-strong gust of wind could knock her over. Yet there is a quiet resolve behind the ocean in her eyes. She stands firm, torn pieces in hand and gives you a small, barely there nod. She turns heel and plants herself under Steve Harrington’s arm. 

Before they fully leave your eyesight, she looks back at Jonathan sadly. 

Everything seems to process in slow motion for you. You finally look down at the boy, desperately trying to collect the fractured remains of his camera. He looks up at you, unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. You gently lay the jacket on the top of his car and walk away, leaving him alone on the ground of the parking lot. 

––––––

You drive home in silence. This morning you couldn’t escape the onslaught of terrible thoughts and now you can barely form a coherent one. You don’t even bother bringing your bag inside with you when you get home. 

Your dad sits on the couch, reading a magazine. A Simon and Garfunkel song plays on the record–the same one from your now ruined cassette. Wordlessly, you crawl onto the couch with him. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing as you tuck yourself under his arm, curling yourself into a tight ball. Mindlessly, he draws small circles on your arm. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It's the final crack in the dam. You press your face closer to his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your sobs. 

“Oh buddy…” he croons sympathetically, and you just cry harder. You feel him readjust his posture, likely setting down his magazine. You sit up and gulp down a few lungfuls of air. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prompts. 

“Its all a mess! Benny is dead and now I don’t have a job and I know it's terrible that thats one of my concerns, but it is! And there's missing kids all over town. I don’t know if she is ok and Will Byers– he’s so small. And I realized that today Jonathan is my closest friend but hes a fucking stalker creep and all the kids in school are terrible evil people. And now my friends are either dead, a creep or my dad! How fucked up is that? I just want to go back to Sunday when everything was fine. But nothings fine now and its all fucked and Steve’s right!”

Your rant is punctuated by collapsing back into your dad’s chest. You continue sobbing, wetting the front of his shirt. He holds your head and lets out a string of whispered comforts, “You’re okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Shh shh shh. Just breathe…there you go”

His rhythmic breathing is a balm to you, and you feel your blinks lasting longer and longer. The record ends and he rises to his feet, pulling you with him. Your feet drag as you lean on him. He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down on the bed, removing your sneakers. He lifts the blanket over you and tucks you in, something he hasn’t done since you were twelve. 

You relieve your heavy eyelids and welcome the darkness. He turns off the lamp and you hear a gentle whisper of “Good night buddy” before sleep takes its hold on you. 

Next Chapter

taglist: @ucannotcompare

[sweet-demiboi]

Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader (smut)

Warnings: Eddie is your bestie, steddie is a thing, Billy is still a bit of a newbie, you basically fight in sports class lol and fuck afterwards, top!dom!reader and definetly sub!bottom!Billy (he's a bit bitchy at first), hair pulling is mentioned, also m!reader's dick is in his ass, m!reader grabs Billy at the neck like once (not really choking though), many hickeys on Billy, unprotected sex (don't be stupid irl, this is just fiction), also kinda shower sex (also don't be stupid that way irl, if you slip it could end not very well), this can be read by poc Ig, but probably not asexual people or trans guys, sorry :/ (I do have other fics for you on my masterlist though, just read the warnings :)), also this is not proofread (yet) - Enjoy!

No Fem!Readers, please!

Your last lesson of the day was PE. It was okay, you were even good at it. Basketball was one of your favorite school sports although you had decided not to play on the school's team.

The guys there were more than a bit toxic and you really preferred your friendships with Eddie Munson and his group. They were a lot more relaxed and actually quite funny. They didn't like sports.

So, you weren't surprised as to find that Eddie wanted to skip this class again. But as soon as he told you that he would be going on a date with Steve Harrington (who was also skipping), you were all over the place. Excited and happy for him, plus you forced him to meet you afterwards and tell everything.

But now you would have to face the new student alone - Billy Hargrove, the guy who had risen to the top of the popularity scale over night. Not even Steve had done that.

Anyway, you came back from your world of thoughts and tried to focus on the game instead, which was starting right now. The only thing you had noticed was that it was basketball and you would have to play against Billy Hargrove.

God, have mercy. He was on the shirtless team. His body basically had you drooling all over the floor. How could a highschooler manage to be this pumped? You decided not to question it.

His body was about everything that was nice about Billy in this particular class, because he played in a way that made you so damn angry.

He was all grins and chuckles when he got the ball past you, blocked you with his whole body and its weight, would jump up so highly that you couldn't land a single shot and he was provoking you all the time.

"(Y/L/N), huh? They told me you were good at this, and thought to myself: that's nice, finally something that won't be boring around here. Seems like I was wrong"

"Would you just shut up and play?"

"'course"

Then he ran beside you, the ball in his hands. He winked. It was making you furious.

You felt your level of anger rise, your blood boil a little more with every ball he took away from you, with every grin, every comment, and every provocation.

Until you were playing just like him. You would dodge, block him, make comments, and were always visibly annoyed while doing so. Billy seemed as if he was enjoying to see those reactions from you, because he wasn't stopping but played a little harder, laughed a little louder, and smiled a little wider.

The tension between you two was building as well. It got kind of hot, and not because of the temperature, it was rather all the looks you shared, when your bodies pressed against each other or when your breath hit each other's skin.

Then Billy pushed you in hope to get you down, which you did. The adrenaline though gave you enough energy to roll over, get up again, snatch the ball away from him and score.

Now he wasn't as amused as before, which made you grin this time.

"Took your mouth too full, Hargrove?"

"You wish"

At this point you were able to identify the tension as clearly sexual, at least it was for you. Of course, Billy was hot, but also this way he was behaving and playing did something to you. But maybe you were just overinterpreting the whole situation.

At the end of this class you were littered in bruises and scratches. Your teacher wanted to talk to you and Billy as well. He didn't seem quite so happy about how you had played.

"When I said I wanted a fair game, this wasn't what I meant!", he looked furious at both of you "Next time, I want to see none of what happened today! Did you understand that?"

"Yes, coatch", both of you mumbled

"Good! Now apologise to each other!"

You looked Billy in the eyes, which were a nice ocean blue color, and shook his hand "Sorry", you heard a sorry for you as well, but you didn't really care. Teachers should know that their students weren't as serious as they might thought they were in such moments.

When you got back to the changing rooms you were the only one's left behind. You didn't talk, just stripped wordless and got under the shower streams.

When you had your head under water Billy started to talk "Did you really think you were better than me?"

You sighed, not wanting to answer, but you could feel the tension from before bubbling up again. As well as your annoyance. It was the end of the school day after all, you were already exhausted - PE had given you the rest, paired with Billy's rather aggressive way of playing.

"Did you think you could win that game?"

He was really close to you, under the shower right next to your own. You could feel goosebumps spreading over your back, of which you hoped he didn't notice.

Billy let out a low chuckle "Well, (Y/L/N), you will be met by reality-"

You didn't let him finish, but pushed him against the wall, pressing your lips on his, hands already on his waist.

You could feel him getting turned on immediately - he kissed you back roughly, opened his legs, and put his hands in your hair. Also he was moaning into your mouth like a whore.

You let your hands roam his body, his chest, waist, shoulders, back, every bit of skin you could reach. When you started massaging his cock, Billy broke the kiss, and moaned against your neck.

"God, just fuck me already", he demanded.

You grinned at him, at which he just grunted "Don't try tellin' me you didn't notice that tension"

"Oh, I won't", your lips were on his as quickly as your fingers were inside him. He was tensed and thight, but also really warm and already wet from shwoering. After a few minutes you decided that he was ready to take all of you, so you pushed your own dick inside of him.

Billy's moan at that was long and stretched, you slammed your hand against his mouth "Do you want the coach to hear us?", he only looked at you with a lazy gaze and it was clear that he was in another world right now.

You started to rock your hips until you had a steady rhythm. God, he felt so good around you, mentally you were on cloud nine. His skin was so hot against your own and all his moans and whines sounded as if you were doing a really good job.

Except for his comments - he was provocating you again:

"Can't do it harder, (Y/L/N), huh?"

"Wow, I didn't know a guy can go this slow"

"You wanna finish me off, or what is this?"

Something inside you snapped. You gripped him roughly getting Billy to groan, and then fucked him as hard as you could. He had been too bitchy for you to be nice to him. But honestly, you didn't think Billy minded the current circumstances that much considering how loudly he was moaning in pleasure.

He was so submissive right now, you had never seen him like that before, but you absolutely loved it. Hot skin against yours, hair to grip with your hand, an arched back and a boy moaning like a bitch, cockdrunk because of you. What more could you want?

"P-please", he whimpered.

"Please what?", your voice, surprisingly, even to you, was firm and your words clear to understand even though your mind was clouded with lust just as much as Billy's.

"Please, let me come", he sounded so whiny, you almost chuckled.

"No."

And then you let yourself get lost in pleasure, coming inside him, which was what you had wanted all along. This made the whole session much more enjoyable for Billy as well, (he secretly loved it when he could get a top to come inside him, but don't tell him I spilled that).

Now, all he wanted was his own release. His dick almost ached from all the arousal he felt, it was already leaking so much precum. But Billy wouldn't touch it for the life of him. He wanted to be good for you.

"Aw, poor boy", you grabbed his neck, pulling his back into your chest "You wanna come so bad?"

"Y-yes"

"Then beg."

Fine. Then, Billy supposed, he would do that. He really was at your mercy right now, even though he hated it (but not really).

"Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad, please let me come"

"God, you're sexy when you beg." - Source for this sentence: TikTok

You were kissing his neck, sucking bright red hickeys into his skin and you could feel and hear how much Billy loved that. He leaned his head to the side, giving you more skin to work with, he moaned, and pushed your head with one hand in your hair.

Slowly, you started to turn him around, his back against the tiles of the locker room's showers to give him more hickeys, this time wandering from his neck to his collar bones, chest and stomach until you were sucking at his hipbone, Billy's moans had gotten weak. Some tears were running over his cheeks from all the stimulation and pleasure.

"I'll make you come.", you said, kneeling before him already.

"God, fuck- yes, please", Billy pressed the back of his hand against his lips when you started to smirk "Good boy" He was, to no surprise, such a slut for praise, you figured when his blue eyes landed on yours in an instant. With your smirk only growing you started to suck on his pink, swollen tip.

At this point, Billy was only capable of groaning, but his hand found its way into your hair, when he came down your throat, a silent plea for you to swallow, which you did. He kind of earned it.

When you got back up again, you grabbed him and you rinsed off together. Billy was still in a headspace, in which he was glad about anything kissing-related, so you guys were basically making out under the water. It was a very nice finish to the rather rough fucking from before, which you both enjoyed.

You dried off and put clothes back on wordlessly, but not missing each other's tired smiles. You shouldered your backpack when Billy got over to the mirror to fix his hair.

He groaned "You're so dead, (Y/L/N)."

There were hickeys EVERYWHERE, on his neck, trailing their way under his shirt and due to Billy never buttoning it up, one could see that they even went under his pants.

You just chuckled, coming up behind him, and pressed your body against his back, closing your arms around his middle. Your eyes met his in the mirror.

"But you look so pretty like this", your hand caressed a bit of the red skin "Now, nobody's gonna snatch you away from me, hun"

You kissed his cheek and got out of the locker room, leaving Billy there. You were already excited to how he would show up tomorrow and how this would continue. You were almost certain that Hargrove wouldn't leave it at that.

[jazzycurls]

You belong to me - part 4.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: It's a surprise 😉🤫

Warnings/Tags: 18+ minors dni! Cheating, angst, hurt & comfort, smut, mentions of stalking and pregnancy (let me know if I missed something)

An: Hi, you guys! I guess I'm not new to writing anymore, but I'm still a newbie. All feedback is welcome. Be gentle please haha. Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me. Love you guys, and thank you so much for the support, hope you enjoy ❤

Word Count: 6,306

It's been exactly four weeks and two days since you last spoke to Eddie. Ever since that day you saw him and Chrissy together, you vowed to never let him hurt you again. It was tough going to school and dealing with all the rumors swirling around you, Eddie, and Chrissy.

Most people had called you a slut, others said Eddie was the slut who had corrupted you in some way and a few people said it was a hoax, unwilling to believe that Eddie The Freak Munson was able to date two women at once. You ignored the rumors, choosing to focus on your schoolwork so you could graduate and get the hell out of this town.

Clara was there beside you through it all and helped you brave the storm. You were forever grateful for her friendship, people like her are hard to come by and should always be cherished. You vowed to repay her as soon as you got the chance.

Eddie had tried his best to talk to you afterward. He had tried everything from following you around at school, showing up at your house, and calling you every night but you shot him down every time. The blinders were off and you wouldn't allow yourself to be fooled by him any longer.

You still loved Eddie but not enough to sacrifice your happiness. You vowed that you would never do that after witnessing the destruction of your parent's marriage. Your mother had spent many nights crying herself to sleep and now was a shell of who she used to be, throwing herself into her work to avoid her harsh reality.

They say that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree because here you were, on your way to your new job at Family Video. You'd had the great idea to get a job to help keep you preoccupied. You've been working there for officially two weeks now and you loved it. It's a laid-back job with decent pay plus your co-workers were awesome.

You pull into the parking lot and park your car. As you make your way into the store the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end. You stop in your tracks as you look around the lot cautiously, heading into the store when you don't see anything strange. For the past few weeks, you kept having the strangest feeling that you were being followed. With Hawkins being notorious for people going missing and all of the strange occurrences, it was always best to be on guard in a town like this one.

"Hi, Y/n," your coworkers Robin and Steve echoed in union.

You raised a brow at them as you entered the store and went behind the sales desk. "Oookay, that wasn't creepy at all," you laughed as you placed your bag under the counter.

"What do you mean," they both asked in confusion.

"Okay, seriously guys, this is weird," you stated, getting slightly creeped out. With the weird feeling of eyes watching you at random times of the day, it didn't take much to put you on edge nowadays.

"Sorry Y/n, it was Steve's idea," Robin laughed, hugging you.

"Hey, not true! Don't believe her Y/n," he tells you as he hugs you as well. The bell on the door chimes, signaling the arrival of a customer as you are wrapped up in his arms.

You turn your head to see Eddie headed your way with his eyes trained on you. Steve lets you go to help Eddie as he places his items on the counter. His eyes are dark, nearly the color of coals as he glares at Steve.

"Harrington," he sniffs before turning to Robin with a bright smile. "Hey Robbie," he grins.

"Munson, if you call me that name one more time, I'm going to jam your precious guitar up your ass!"

Eddie throws his hands up in mock surrender "Yes ma'am," he replies jokingly. His gaze finally settles on yours "Hello Y/n," he whispers, his eyes soft and shining with emotion.

"Hi, Eddie." Your voice is monotone and your expression is indifferent, a severe contrast to the emotions raging inside of you.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere between you two, Steve steps in and picks up the movies Eddie placed on the counter. He taps a few keys onto the register and scans the barcode on the back of the tapes. "Alright Munson, it says here that you have an overdue late fee of $6.18 on your account. Would you like to make a payment today?"

Eddie begrudgingly looks away from you and turns toward Steve. He digs into the pocket of his jeans, pulls out a wrinkled ten-dollar bill, and hands it to Steve. Unable to stand the tension building, you busy yourself by going over to the romance section to organize the shelf.

Minutes go by, and you hear the soft footsteps of someone walking up behind you. You look over to find Eddie standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. You stand up and move to leave before he stops you.

"Wait Y/n, can we talk? Please!" he begs, his hands stretched out towards you blocking your exit.

You sigh deeply and shake your head, feeling your resolve break. "You have a minute," you relent, crossing your arms as you wait.

"Baby, what happened before," he begins, as he takes a step towards you. You take a step back, holding your hand up between you two.

"Sorry," he mutters sadly before continuing. "What you saw with me and Chrissy, it wasn't what it looked like. I was about to tell her that it was over between her and me when she —," he trailed off unable to continue. He couldn't tell you about the upside down. It could put you in danger and that was something he refused to allow to happen.

You lifted a brow expectantly as you waited for him to continue. Your patience was starting to wane thin.

"Um, she said that she um— that she needed me," he responded weakly. It sounded unbelievable even to his own ears. He sees your face drops back into a cold stare and his chest tightens in fear when he realizes how bad he's fucking this up right now.

"You have to believe me Y/n. It's just for a little while and this doesn't mean that I'm with her because it doesn't and I promise you she knows that." His words are rushed and awkward as he tries to convince you that his words are true.

"Times up Eddie." You turn to walk away and he grabs your hand quickly.

"Y/n wait, I'm telling the truth. I just need you to wait for me, please, at least until I sort everything out." His plea is desperate as he holds your hand close to his heart.

"Why should I Eddie? You haven't been honest with me not once this entire time! You won! You got what you wanted so just leave me the fuck alone." Your voice rises out of anger, causing Robin and Steve to throw concerned glances in your direction. You let out slow deep breaths as you attempt to reel your emotions back in.

Shock is evident on Eddie's face, which soon gives way to anger. If he was honest with himself he's never done well with confrontation. With his father mentally and physically abusing him throughout his childhood, he's developed a sort of defense mechanism, which makes him run away when he feels threatened. The hurt that he feels because you don't trust him makes him angry, not knowing how to properly deal with his emotions. He feels that he's been nothing but honest with you this entire time. If there was anything he left out it was for your safety, not so he could try and fuck you over.

"You know what, fuck this," Eddie grunts, as his feelings get the better of him. "You don't have to believe me." As the words leave his lips his heart breaks and regrets already spreading through him as he turns away from you, storming out of the store.

You want to call out to him, tell him that you were sorry for going off. You're not a confrontational person, so your reaction just now took you by surprise. Bile rises in your throat as you watch Eddie leave. You turn and run to the employee's lounge, slamming the door shut as you hurl your lunch into the toilet. Your fingers grip the wall tightly and you begin to dry heave once there is nothing left. Once your stomach settles you drop down onto the tiled floor, trying to catch your breath.

A few minutes go by when you hear a knock on the door. "Y/n, is everything okay?" Robin asks you from the other side.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." Your voice sounds weak as you answer her. You rise to stand and go to wash your hands. Once you're done you splash cold water on your flushed face. 'What the fuck.'  You wonder as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Was this whole situation so stressful that it was making you sick? Or was it the thought of things finally being over with Eddie that made you ill?

You honestly didn't know but you refused to dwell over it any longer. Taking a deep breath you opened the door with a fake smile plastered on your face.

"You okay," Robin asks when you appear back at the counter.

"No, but I will be," you reply with a strained smile but you're not convinced you will be.

Steve takes in your appearance noting how squeamish you look, a stark contrast to how you were when you first arrived. "Hey Y/n, if you're not feeling well you can leave early if you want. I think Robbie and I can manage," he says earning a smack on the back of his head from Robin.

"Yeah, I think that's for the best," you say, laughing in response to their antics. You begin to pack up your things and give them both a hug before making your departure.

The fresh air of the evening does little to settle your stomach and the nagging thought of something you had forgotten in the back of your mind. You make a pit stop at the local mart, unaware of the eyes watching your every step.

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You sat on your bed with Clara, your fingers gripping the unopened pink box tightly. She listened intently as you told her the events of what happened a few days ago with Eddie. Her features shift with each detail you relay. Shock settles over her face once you end with the purchase you had made due to the absence of your period.

"Why haven't you taken it yet," she questions as she clasped your hand in yours. You blinked your eyes, trying desperately to stave off the tears threatening to escape.

"I'm scared," you admitted. "If I take this test, then it becomes real and then I'll have no choice but to deal with it." Your hands shake nervously, causing the box to fall onto the floor.

Clara bent down and picked up the box, pressing it back into your hands. "Y/n, this isn't something you can ignore. The longer you put it off the fewer options you'll have."

"I know, but what if it's positive? Things between Eddie and me are horrible right now. A baby will only complicate things even more." A few tears skip down your cheeks as your emotions began to overwhelm you.

"Whatever happens I'll be here for you okay? I'll even beat Eddie up for you if you want," she says, pulling you into a tight hug.

You laugh along with her as you hug her back. "I'll keep that in mind," you snicker as you get up from the bed, making your way into the bathroom. You close the door behind you and lean up against it. You take calming breaths as you read the instructions on the back of the box.

'Okay, remove cap and place tip into urine stream for five seconds. Replace cap, lay it flat, and wait for results, should be ready within five minutes. Seems easy enough,' you thought silently.

You will your hands to stop shaking as you unwrap the package and begin to follow the instructions listed on the box. Once finished you lay the test flat on the counter and began to wait. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow and you become all too aware of the silence in the bathroom. The walls felt as if they were closing in on you with each minute that passed.

Your timer beeps on your watch, signaling that the test result was ready. Turning back towards the counter you eye the test warily. You could feel a trickle of sweat running along your spine as you start to perspire. 'This is crazy. Just pick it up and read it. It's not a big deal, it's not like this is going to change your life from this point in every single way.'

Exasperated, you sink down onto the edge of the tub. "Clara" you called out through the closed door.

"Yes!" She replied immediately, busting through the door.

You gesture towards the test on the counter. "I can't look," you said softly, letting your head fall into your hands. You stare at the patterns on the tile floor as you listen to her pick up the test.

A soft gasp fell from her lips making your blood run cold. "It's positive," she murmurs as she crouches down in front of you.

"Of course it's positive, I've never failed a test before. Guess I'm not going to start now huh." You laugh bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Y/n, it's going to be okay. Whatever you decide to do, it's going to be okay." She laid her hand on yours as you sat there in silence. "Are you going to tell Eddie," she asked.

"I don't know if I should. I mean, what would even be the point of that anyways? I don't want a pity relationship because he made the mistake of knocking me up." Your words come out heated and rushed as your anger washes over you.

"He deserves to know Y/n. Don't keep it from him because you're scared of what his response may be. You never know, maybe he'll step up, maybe he won't but you'll never know if you don't give him a chance." Clara's voice was firm and sure as she held your gaze.

"You're right, I'll tell him," you huff out a moment later.

She gives you a small smile before standing up and pulling you up along with her. "Fuck! Squatting like that made my legs hurt," she complained trying to shake the pins and needles feeling out of her legs. "I guess I'm getting too old for that now. Welp, no more blowjobs for Steve then," she jokes, crouching over and holding her back dramatically.

"Yeah right, I'll believe that when pigs fly," you laugh snorting obnoxiously as you follow her back into your room.

"You calling me a slut," Clara growls, her hand inching towards the pillows on your bed.

"Uh yeah. You and Steve are biggest the horndogs I've ever met," you retort grinning cheekily.

"You're gonna regret that Y/l/n," she yells, smacking you in the face with a pillow. You stand there for a moment in shock before springing into action, grabbing a pillow for your counterattack. Peels of laughter sound off in the room along with thumps from the pillow fight, giving you a welcome reprieve from the tough decisions sure to come.

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Eddie sat perched atop his throne in the old theatre room, which was also their meeting place for all of their D&D campaigns. Drumming his fingers against the chipped wooden table, his patience began to wear thin as he waited for everyone to sit down and get situated. After a minute had passed, everyone was still talking animatedly to each other. 

"Can we hurry this along please!" he yelled out, causing the room to go silent as all eyes snapped onto him. "Thank you," he said once he had everyone's attention. He had called an emergency meeting weeks ago as soon as Chrissy had told him her dreams had returned. Due to conflicts of schedule and the matter of long distance for some, it had taken a while to get everyone back together again.

"What's going on Eddie? Why are we all here," asked Dustin.

"Vecna's back," Eddie replied somberly, getting straight to the point. A few gasps of panic flew across the room at his announcement.

"Are you sure? I mean— how do you know, what happened?" Nancy questioned, her eyes flickering with concern.

Eddie began to explain what Chrissy had told him that day, omitting the part with you in it. He didn't need everyone to know about his relationship with you when he was still trying to fix the damage he'd caused.

"So why isn't she here if she's so scared that he's after her?" Max's voice was low and her expression held a look of skepticism. Something about this situation seemed off to her but she didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet.

"She had cheerleading practice," Eddie replied rubbing a hand across his face tiredly. Between Chrissy hanging onto him like a leech every chance she got and you avoiding him like a leper, he felt as if he was losing his mind. He hadn't had a proper sleep in weeks and it was beginning to show. His eyes were dull, sporting dark heavy-looking bags underneath each one.

Murmurs echo around the room at his response. "I'm sorry man but I call bullshit. I've seen Chrissy around town and she didn't look scared to me," said Steve.

"Why would she lie then huh? If you have an idea, then by all means please share it because I don't have a clue!" Eddies hands grip the arms of his chair as he struggles to regain control over his emotions.

"Are you okay Eddie?" Robin asked. She had never seen Eddie like this before and it was starting to scare her a little. After witnessing the scene between Eddie and you, she had the sinking feeling that this all had something to do with one another.

"Yeah— I'm fine, just a little tired is all. Now, can we please get back to the matter at hand?" Eddie hated being so dismissive toward his friend but he wanted to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.

"Well, I haven't felt anything from him. Honestly, I thought he was dead. I haven't felt this peaceful in a long time," Will replied in a soft voice.

"Me too," Max confirmed as others began to echo in agreeance.

"I think that settles it, dude. It sounds like Chrissy lied to you," Dustin said softly so only Eddie could hear him.

"I think you're right and I'm going to find out why." Eddies features were stony and everyone could see the shift in his demeanor. He adjourned the meeting, thanking everyone for coming and apologizing on Chrissy's behalf.

Before he left the room he tapped Robin on the shoulder, pulling her from her conversation with Steve. "Hey, I just wanted to apologize about earlier. I haven't been—, he started but Robin cut him off with a  wave of her hand.

"Don't worry about it. There are no hard feelings okay? Just go handle whatever it is you need to with Chrissy. To be honest Eddie, I never liked her anyways," she tells him with a smirk.

Eddie gives her a quick hug before taking his leave. He was on a mission as he made his way hastily to the gym, determined to catch Chrissy before she left. He wanted an explanation as to why she had lied and he wasn't going to leave until she gave him one.

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Chrissy's friend Alice stood to the side of the bleachers anxiously. The loud voices of Chrissy and Eddie rang out sharply throughout the gym. Standing in the shadows, she wasn't trying to be seen until the time was right.

The words lying bitch could be heard clearly throughout the room followed by a resounding slap. Chrissy stormed by quickly tears streaming down her face. She passed by quickly, not seeing Alice standing in the corner. Once the double doors had closed, Alice stepped from behind the bleachers into the light. Eddie stood close by with his head hanging down, his hair hiding his face. She cleared her throat lightly, gaining Eddie's attention immediately.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!" He yelped, holding a hand over his chest. His heartbeat was erratic as he took a deep breath to calm down before he had a premature death. "What do you want," he asked warily after he had regained control of his breathing. He knew you only through Chrissy and had never spoken to you alone before. If he was a betting man, he would bet that Chrissy didn't know you were here, especially right after the fight they'd just had.

"Chrissy doesn't know that I'm here," she said confirming his suspicions as she looked over her shoulder cautiously. Eddie nodded in response and she continued, wanting to get this over as soon as possible. She didn’t want Chrissy to find out about what she was about to do.

"Chrissy's been lying to you, Eddie. She's been seeing Jason behind your back the entire time you two were together," she whispered.

When Chrissy told her that she and Eddie didn't have sex, she was in disbelief. The reason why became even more obvious when she caught them hooking up in Jason's car during school once. Jason had later told her with a smug look on his face that he and Chrissy had always maintained a sexual relationship even after she had gotten with 'The Freak'.

When she confronted Chrissy, she only shrugged with a coy smile, "I get what I need from Jason and Eddie, what's the big deal?"

Alice had told her that it wasn't right but Chrissy didn't want to listen to reason, only warning her to stay out of it before flouncing away, her ponytail bouncing perkily behind her.

"Wow, I mean what the fuck. I know I have no room to talk but for her to pretend to be so innocent when she's just as bad is fucking insane." Eddie's eyes were big as he ran his hands through his hair.

He had tried before to initiate a sexual relationship with Chrissy but she had told him she wanted to wait until marriage. He had accepted her decision, not wanting to pressure her into something she didn't want but he couldn't deny that the thought of why things were the way they were didn't cross his mind at times. Boys tended to talk and he knew that she wasn't a virgin because of Jason, so the new information just revealed to him, answered the questions he's had for a long time.

"Thanks for telling me," he said finally, looking over to Clara. "I know that couldn't have been easy."

"You're welcome, Eddie. I know I can be a bitch sometimes but I like to think that I'm still a good person," she said as she began to walk away. Before reaching the doors, she turned around to look over her shoulder at him. "Eddie be careful with Chrissy. She's not the same anymore and I'm afraid of what she may do if things don't go her way."

He nodded in response and watched as she walked through the doors, her ominous warning of Chrissy repeating over and over in his head.

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You're lost in your thoughts as you walk along the crowded hallways. You had spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to tell Eddie you were pregnant. The last time you talked, it ended horribly and you were kinda ashamed to have to approach him again so soon. You were sure that after how you treated him, he didn't want to speak to you again.

As you neared your classroom a hand snatched you into a nearby closet, closing the door briskly behind you. "What the hell," you shrieked before a hand clasped over your mouth keeping you silent.

"Shhh Y/n, it's just me," Eddie whispered as he clicked on the overhead light.

You snatch his hand from your mouth, looking upward at him. "I knew that Eddie. You are literally the only person who snatches me into closets at random."

"Yeah, you're right," he says laughing awkwardly. He rubs the back of his neck as he takes a moment to look at you. It feels as if he hasn't gotten a chance to really look at you in forever. His heart flutters nervously as you stare back into his eyes. The speech he had prepared, long forgotten at the sight of you.

You were also experiencing something similar as you began to malfunction at being in such close proximity with Eddie. An apology sits at the top of your tongue for the way you treated him before but you quickly swallow it back down as quickly as it comes. "What do you want," you question once you finally begin to settle from the mental Olympics your mind is going through.

"I wanted to talk to you. I know that our last conversation didn't end well and I want to apologize to you." He takes a deep breath in an attempt to settle his nerves before continuing.

"I let my emotions get the best of me and I reacted poorly. I know that you're probably getting tired of me apologizing and I promise to do better— I want to be better for you. Whenever I'm with you, I feel better about myself. Even though we haven't had the chance to be together, I'm sure of how I feel about you. You don't have to worry about me and Chrissy anymore because I've handled that situation and it's completely over, I promise you. So please Y/n, please take a chance on me and I promise I won't let you down again ever." His eyes are big and wet as he looks down at you pleadingly.

You lean back up against the door as you consider his words. The fierceness in his eyes is endearing, making you want to believe him this time, but there is still a nagging thought in the back of your mind. You still feel that there is something that Eddie isn't telling you. Until you know the real reason he broke his promise and chose to stay with Chrissy, you can't forgive him just yet. "I want to trust you Eddie but for me to do that, you have to be completely honest with me. I don't want to start a relationship on a half-truth."

Something akin to fear flashes across Eddie's face before disappearing quickly. His features relax again as he takes your hands into his hesitantly, pulling you in closer. "Y/n— there's a lot of things that's happened in Hawkins in the past couple of years. A lot of things have been kept from the public for safety reasons," he pauses to make sure that you are still following him. "I'll tell you everything but I need you to keep an open mind okay? I know that what I tell you may be hard to believe but just trust me okay?"

You nod your head slowly as your heart begins to race. You're not sure what it is he is about to tell you but you have the feeling that it will change everything moving forward. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the tardy bell rings announcing that you both are late for class.

"Fuck! Can you follow me to my house after school?" He says hopefully, resting his hand on the doorknob behind you.

"Yeah," you reply breathlessly as he leans in closer to you, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter close as his nose brushes against yours, his breath is warm as it fans across your face pleasantly.

The sound of the second bell rings and the moment is gone. Disappointment is clear on both of your faces as he pulls back, giving you room to move away from the door. "Later?" His eyes are bright, filled with hope and longing.

"Later," you smile squeezing his hand gently before slipping through the door. Eddie waits a second before taking his leave as well. His smile is big and wide as he walks into class, even after his teacher tears him a new one for being late once again, his smile never fades.

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You rush out of class once the final bell rings and you head to the parking lot, eager to meet Eddie as planned. After you have your talk with Eddie, you'll have to go straight to work, so you're grateful that you were able to get the car from your mom this morning. You spot Eddie in the crowded lot once you make it to your car. He gives you an excited wave and you wave back with a shy smile.

You both enter your cars and you began to follow him as he leaves the school. As you're driving out of the lot you pass by Chrissy standing near her car. She stares at you with a blank expression as you pass by. Your eyes meet and you hold her gaze before looking away to safely follow the traffic.

"Crazy bitch," you mutter under your breath. You shake it off mentally, you refuse to let her ruin the good mood you were in. You're anxious about what Eddie is going to tell you. Optimism is flowing through you and you can feel your walls lowering for what could be. You hope that he'll be receptive to the news you have for him as well.

Your hands begin to shake as your mind wanders at what his reaction will be. You had planned on telling him today but you're not sure you'll have time after he reveals whatever the secret is he's been holding in.

Before you know it you are pulling into the trailer park behind Eddie. You follow closely as he passes by several trailers before pulling into what you assumed was his home. You park behind him and get out of your car.

Eddie walks over to you with a smile, taking your hand into his, and leads you up the steps. As you both enter his home you notice the trailer is a little on the small side but has a homey feel to it that you find charming.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Eddie says bowing at the waist as you walk into his room. You giggle in response as you sidestep some articles of clothing and stand awkwardly beside his bed. His room is for the most part clean, albeit a little disorganized.

You're not sure if you should sit or stand so you choose to wait for him to tell you what to do. You act as if you're strangers as if Eddie hasn't been inside of you and made you cum in almost every way.

Eddie closes his door, kicking off his shoes. "Make yourself comfortable sweetheart, mi casa su casa." He takes a seat next to you on his bed and takes your hand into his.

"I'm so happy you agreed to listen to what I have to say. I was afraid that you would never talk to me again after last time," he says honestly. He feels happy but also nervous for what he is about to expose you to. He knows that everyone will be pissed at him for getting you involved but he could care less. At this point he would do anything to get you back, he would even travel through Mordor unarmed for you.

"Me too Eddie," you reply sweetly. Your heart skips a beat as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Eddie, before you begin, I just want to say I'm sorry for how I acted the last time we spoke. It wasn't unnecessary and I said some things that I didn't mean." Your head drops down and you look at your lap, unable to meet his gaze.

He lifts your chin with his ringed finger. "I already forgave you, baby. There's nothing to apologize for," he whispers against your hand still pressed to his lips. You smile as a heated flush creeps up your neck and settles on your face.

Eddie smiles at your response before he begins "As I said before sweetheart, what I'm going to tell you may be hard to believe but just know that everything I say is the truth." He licks his lips as he prepares to tell you the truth about Hawkins.

His eyes are wide, filled with warmth that eases any doubts you may have had before. You nod your head and you listen intently as he begins to tell you a tale so bizarre that it sounds like it's straight from a movie scene.

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You wave goodbye to Robin and Steve as you walk across the dark parking lot toward your car. Your mind races as you fumble with your keys to unlock the car. Hours have passed since your conversation with Eddie but you're still in shock.

The story he had told you felt too bizarre to be true. But when you sat back and thought about all of the strange occurrences that's happened, his explanation was more reasonable than what the media had portrayed. You were correct before when you thought that you wouldn't have time to tell him your truth. He had taken hours to go over everything with you and by the time he was done you were late for work.

You promised that you wouldn't tell anyone about what he had revealed to you, including Steve and Robin. He wanted to keep everyone oblivious to the fact that you knew everything, for now. You smiled to yourself, the way he worried over your safety made your heart clench in happiness and hope that he would be open to what you had to tell him.

A noise startles you from behind and you drop your keys in fear. You were on edge and every little sound was making you jump. Bending down you scoop up your keys swiftly, fear pumping through you as you slot your keys in the lock. You climb into your car swiftly, slamming the door behind you.

Your heart is pounding as you look behind you out of your car windows. For a moment there you could've sworn that you heard footsteps behind you. Taking a deep breath you start your car and head back to Eddie's house. He had invited you back to his house after work once you told him that you had something important to tell him as well. Your mom was out of town visiting family and you hoped that if things ended well, you could spend the weekend with Eddie.

So wrapped up in your thoughts you didn't see the car behind you until it slammed into you, causing you to swerve hazardously before regaining control.

"What the fuck," you yell in surprise. Your eyes fly to your rearview mirror and you're blinded by the harsh light reflecting from the beams.

You realize with a start that the reason you didnt notice them was that they didnt have on their lights until just now. They obviously didn't want you to notice them until it was too late. The car behind you rams into you again and you jerk forward from the impact. A cry leaves your lips as you step on the gas, you have to get away from this person before they kill you.

The other car is right on your tail as you bend the corner dangerously. Sweat coats your entire body as your adrenaline skyrockets. No matter how fast you go, the unknown assailant is right behind you.

The roads are dark and empty as you both race along the paved road. You cry in relief when you realize that you're a few minutes away from Eddie's house. No sooner than the thought enters your mind, they slam into you violently, and the wheel jerks as you lose control of the car. Your car veers off the road and your wheels screech as you skid across the pavement. A silent scream leaves your mouth as you realize that you are headed straight for the treeline.

As you brace for impact, your last thoughts are of Eddie, how you didn't get to tell him you were pregnant and that you never got the chance to tell him that you loved him. Your thoughts are filled with him as glass breaks around you with a sickening crunch and everything fades to black.

Taglist: @bibieddiesgf @tlclick73 @seventhlevelofhell @emmysuebull22 @adequate-superstar @vintagehellfire @sidthedollface2 @blue-eyed-lion @hazydespair @fly-on-the-wall @nicolaj1978 @sinczir @starrywhitenight @merciiss @hanahkatexo @kellysimagines @hargrovesswifee @simp4rengoku @igglepiggle22 @isimpforeveryonee @urdad-hot @thikkiesixx @billyhargrovesfuturewife @sammararaven @yogizzz

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S2:E6; Chapter Six, The Spy - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

will's connection to a shadowy evil grows stronger, but no one's quite sure how to stop it. elsewhere, steve and dustin forge an unlikely bond.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Get him out. Go! Go!"

"God! Hold on, sweetie!"

Will screams in anguish as he is wheeled throughout the lab. He clutches his arm tightly, wishing he could tear the very skin off of his flesh, he feels as if he is being cooked from the inside out. Joyce stays close behind him, her tears clouding her vision, Bob and Mike right on her tail.

When she had left the tunnels, she was faced with the horrendous sight of her youngest writhing in the grass, near unconsciousness.

"I'm right here, honey. Just hold on." She cries, her hand outstretched for him.

They reach a room faster than she anticipates and she feels herself being ripped away from her baby when he is placed onto a bed. Bob is gently pulling her back, but to her, the distance is too great. She needs to be there, show him he's there. But for now, she's stuck, watching helplessly as her son is dying.

"Vitals?"

"Heart rate 220. Temperature's 106."

Several hands are prodding and poking, adjusting and readjusting but one nurse, in particular, leans forward. Her gloved hands gently grab the sides of his face so as to grab his attention - this whole while, his eyes have been closed as he screams.

"Will," she says urgently. "where does it hurt?"

His face is pale and his eyes sunken and dark, but he manages to open them for a brief moment to speak before falling into a fit of groans.

"All over."

"She says he feels like he's burning." Dr. Owen's interjects. "Check for burns."

Will's shirt is quickly cut open allowing them to work but there is no sign of burns to be found.

"I don't see anything!"

Once again, she grabs a gentle hold of Will leaning down to get his attention as the other nurses begin to apply wires.

"Where does it hurt the most, Will?"

"Everywhere!" He screams, launching his head up. "EVERYWHERE!"

His head is thrown back into the pillow in anguish, the doctors swarm his bedside doing all in their abilities. Joyce collapses in Bob's arms, her trembling hand over her mouth and Bob finds himself unable to bear the sight.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Here we stand or here we fall

History won't care at all"

The newly formed, unlikely duo of Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington stew in thick silence, nothing but the lilting voice of Freddie Mercury's carrying through the car's otherwise silent atmosphere as Hammer To Fall plays from the radio. Night has fallen and the two ride in silence, the maroon BMW barreling down the streets of Hawkins, clouds of leaves in its path. Dustin had shared his previous encounters with his newest ally which has caused the aforementioned silence. Finally, Steve finds his voice.

"Wait a sec. How big?"

Dustin stretches out his forefinger from his thumb roughly an inch, indicating to Steve.

"First it was like that," he then stretches both hands out wider than his shoulders. "Now he's like this."

Steve rolls his eyes, returning them to the road as he scoffs.

"I swear to God, man, it's just some little lizard, okay?"

"It's not a lizard."

"How do you know?"

Dustin turned to Steve with an incredulous look, mocking his confidence and the two begin to speak over one another.

"How do I know if it's not?"

"How you know it's not just a lizard?" Steve said, his voice rising.

"Because his face opened up and he ate my cat." Dustin snapped.

Steve's eyes widened, though his face quickly contorts into an awkward expression. Willingly admitting defeat, he shrugged as he pulls into the Henderson driveway.

The two exit the car and meet at the trunk, as promised Steve opens his trunk to reveal the infamous spike bat from the previous year.

Having ditched his toxic friends, Steve had come to the Byers's house to make peace with Jonathan after their fight. Only to find Nancy there with Jonathan as they set a trap for the Demogorgon the night of Eleven's disappearance. Consequently, Steve had been thrown into the chaos in their battle with the Upside Down where he upheld the infamous bat. The less than pleasant memories came flooding back to him as he glanced down at the makeshift weapon, and he sighs.

Tossing his keys to Dustin, he grabs his bat, twirling it in his grasp and he can't help but notice the spark of adrenaline that comes with it. The feeling of the weight in his hands, knowing he needs to be prepared at any moment. And he is.

Slamming the truck, Steve follows Dustin's lead into the backyard. He finds himself standing in front of a chained up cellar and Steve waits in hushed silence for any signs of movement. The flashlight beam dances across the steel as he waits, but the pair is only met with more silence.

"I don't hear shit."

"He's in there." Dustin shrugs.

Cautiously, Steve leans forward, his bat outstretched and he gently taps the wooden end of the bat against the steel. Again, no other sounds can be heard. Testing his luck, he steps forward again and whacks the doors with the bat creating a larger sound. Still no reply.

Steve turns hotly on his heel and shines the flashlight directly in Dustin's eyes with a less than impressed look on his face.

"All right, listen, kid. I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you're dead."

"It's not," Dustin argues, wincing from the harsh light.

"All right?" Steve pressed.

"It's not a prank." He urges. "Get it out of my face."

Steve reluctantly replies, lowering the flashlight and he gestures to the cellar.

"You got a key for this thing?"

The cellar doors are ripped open with an ear-splitting squeak and Steve peers deep into the darkness, his bat at the ready. Dustin stands behind him, flashlight in his shaky hand and Steve gladly takes it. He shines it further into the cellar, the milky white beam reached the bottom of the steps and dances across the cold, grey concrete.

"He must be farther down there," Dustin says uncertainly. "I'll stay up here in case he tries to escape,"

Steve looks up at the boy with a deadpan expression before back into the dark abyss with a supposed cat-eating monster. He shakes his head, unable to believe the dramatic, unforeseen turn his day has taken.

He sighs once more, not bothering to hide his unease as he looks from the boy to cellar once more.

"You have a brother, don't you? Why isn't he helping out?"

Dustin shifts uneasily.

"Yeah, about that," Dustin says, causing Steve to sigh. "He's with Byers. Also, he has no idea I found Dart after we lost him at school, or that our cat's dead so I'd rather not lead with that..."

"Jesus, I- Fine. Whatever, let's just get this over with."

Both bated breath, Steve descends into the darkness, his bat gripped tightly in hand, flashlight in the other. His body is tense and he is ready for any sign of movement. He reaches the last step, and his flashlight quickly scans the area though it finds nothing but a metal chain hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Deeming it safe, his guard lowers ever so and he steps forward turning on the light, the chain dangles around his head and for one blissful moment, he finds nothing but a regular cellar.

That is until his eyes land on the peculiar sickly pale green shape on the floor before him. In the dark, his vision had mistaken it as an old plastic grocery bag. But now, with the light illuminating the surface, it had a bright pale sheen and he could see it certainly wasn't anything normal. Extending the ends of the bat, the nails hooked into the strange wet substance and held it up to examine it.

The beam of the flashlight shone through the substance. After moments of contemplation as he watches it drip with mucus-like slime and is met with a horrid stench, he realizes it had once been skin.

His gaze wandered to a spot on the wall just beyond where he had found the shredded skin and he looked on in shock, his stomach plummeted as if he had dropped ten stories.

From above the surface, Dustin waited less than patiently, growing nervous for the Harrington boy.

"Steve?" He called uneasily.

The cellar light had been turned on but no other sign of life had shown itself. Fear crept into Dustin's heart and his unease festered.

"Steve, what's going on down there?" He asked a little louder.

Dustin jumped back in surprise when an unexpected beam of light hit his face so suddenly. His heart leaped into his throat and he was thankful he hadn't screamed. Behind the beam of light was Steve, looking up at him worriedly.

"Get down here." He ordered.

His voice sounded shaky, a factor in Steve that did not comfort Dustin at this moment. But reluctantly, he obeyed. Dustin descended the cellar steps to find a familiar substance dangling from the spiked bat, and his stomach twisted into knots.

"Oh, shit."

Without a word, Steve pulled the bat away and shone the flashlight towards the far corner of the cellar revealing his second discovery. A large trail of slime was strewn across the concrete leading to the far left corner of the cellar. Dozens of discarded bricks, broken remnants of splintered wood sprinkled the area as well as of mounds of dirt all flowed in from the gaping hole in the wall where Dart had escaped.

"Holy, shit!"

The duo stepped forward, bending down to examine the tunnel. The small beam of light was redirected once more and the two gapped at their microscopic view of the infinite tunnel that wound its way throughout all of Hawkins.

The currently vacant Byers living room is bathed in the pale moonlight, the only evidence of life is Will's abandoned maps that travel through the house like veins. An abandoned glass of water on the kitchen counter vibrates in only the slightest as the growing rumble of engines surrounds the house. A fleet of men flood routinely from the identical swarm of HAWKINS WATER AND ELECTRIC vans and storm the Byers porch. Within moments, the house is flooded with agents, dozens of flashlight beams dance across the floors, walls, and ceilings as they dissolve across the perimeter.

Light switches, remotes, doorknobs - apart from the front door - go untouched avoiding any trace they were ever here, only doing that which was necessary with gloved hands. They were quick and thorough, and apart from the brief but blinding flashes of cameras documenting the maps and the fleet of flashlights, the house is illuminated only by the moons soft rays. A pair of hands confiscate the videotape from Halloween night, that had previously remained tucked into the player, while another takes several photos of Will's drawing of the shadow monster that sits in his room, undisturbed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Will's small and weakened frame lays unconscious on the medical bed. The color in his cheeks that gave him his usual warm and pinkish hue withered and was almost nonexistent, his skin now paled a sickly white and covered in a sheen of sweat from the long night behind him. Bob and Mike sit at his side, their eyes trained on him for any signs of disturbance as his body shakily rises and falls in a feeble attempt at stabilizing.

Meanwhile, Joyce sits at the head of the conference table among the lab's finest doctors and agents. She - much like Bob and Hopper - had traded their regular attire for scrubs during the night and she is in a heated discussion with Owens and his team.

"That thing, it..." she gestured over her shoulder. "It did something to him."

"Okay," Owens thoughtfully scratches his head, his mind scrambling to catch up and understand the situation. "And these now-memories, as you call them, how long has he been experiencing them?"

The impatience grew in Joyce at the repetitive question and fights a huff.

"I told you, since Thursday. Since I found him in the field."

"And why wasn't he brought in?" Asked an unnamed scientist to her right.

Her sharp and hostile gaze snaps to the man and she gives him a cynical glance, her palms hitting the surface of the wooden table.

"I have been bringing him in, and what have you done?" She spits coolly. "Nothing. Nothing!"

Owens nervously jumps in with an unintended stilted tone, his movements stiff, all in a pathetic and useless attempt to minimize her concerns.

"These are new symptoms, Joyce."

Joyce shook her head profusely, jabbing her finger in Owens's direction. Her promise to Will burning protectively in her heart.

"No. No, he has been telling you over and over that something wrong, and you said it was all in his head."

Owens squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his composure cracking under Joyce's fire. His mouth opens and closes, though his voice fails him.

"You said, 'Be patient.' Those were your words."

As she leans back into her seat, shifting restlessly Owens finally finds his voice. Her adrenaline and unease find a small and temporary outlet as her fingers drum against the wooden conference table.

"I understand that you're upset, okay? I get it. And I would be, too, if I were in your shoes." Owens gestured around the room. "But we are all in the same boat here, and I just need you to try--"

"What? Stay calm? Trust you?" Joyce looks around the table in disgust before shaking her head. "No, I want him transferred to a real hospital."

Dr. Owens's eyes shift to the papers in his hands, and while his voice is firm his nervous actions give away his discomfort.

"Well, you know that's not possible."

Another doctor joins in much to Joyce's bewilderment and chagrin.

"He really will get the best treatment here, Mrs. Byers."

"He really will." Another interjected.

She looked between them, utterly baffled, unable to believe the blinding negligence in themselves. She merely scoffs.

"And what are you treating him for, exactly?" She shrugs exasperated when she is met with no response and she rises to her feet. "Can anyone tell me what's wrong with him? Can a single person in this room tell me what is wrong with my boy?"

No one spoke, and she was met once more with dozens of eyes that avoided her gaze. Several men squirming uncomfortably in their seats and it only fuels the flames in her chest and her voice rises with her anger.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BOY?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Oh, He-Man, thank you for saving my life. What strong muscles you have."

Erica smirks at the dolls in her hands as she is splayed out across her bed. In one hand, her favorite Barbie doll, Christie. In the other, Lucas's He-Man action figure she had lifted from his room. She brought the two together in an embrace, their plastic faces touching as she made exaggerated kissing noises. The door was thrown open by Lucas and she looks up at him distasteful. His eyes fall to the doll in his hands and he glares at her.

"I knew it!" He scoffs, stomping in and ripping He-Man from her hands.

"Hey! They're in love!"

Lucas turns in her doorway, rolling his eyes.

"No, actually they're not. They don't even exist on the same planet."

"Aren't you too old to be playing with toys?" She quips.

Words die on Lucas's tongue and another rough sigh escaped him. He shakes his head, ridding himself of the comment.

"That... That's not the point. The point is to stay out of my room." He fires back, marching off into the hallway.

Erica calls after him, unfazed.

"Then tell your little nerdy friend to shut his mouth."

Lucas backpedals and returns to her doorway, giving his sister a quizzical look.

"What are you talking about?"

Erica merely shakes her head slightly and exaggerates Dustin's previous cries.

'''Code red, Lucas. Code red. Code red.' Bunch of nerds."

She rolls her eyes, reaching back for a nearby stuff animal, missing the horrified look on Lucas's face. He runs quickly to the end of the hall, not caring if he crashes into his door. He grips the doorframe as he scans his room, a frightened mantra slipping from his lips.

"No, no, no, no, no, no."

Sure enough, on his bed is his walkie, completely shut off. He rushes to his bed, flipping the dials and extending the antenna as quickly as he can.

"Dustin!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The steel buckets hit the concrete with a decisive smack, and a container of gasoline is placed next to them. Dustin and Steve unload the trunk of monster hunting supplies they had scraped together for their plan against Dart. They had procured buckets and buckets of raw meat from the butcher shop and managed to gather the other supplies from Steve's garage. Dustin's comms come to life and immediately he recognizes Lucas's voice.

"Well, well, well, look who it is." Dustin feigns a smirk, gloved hands on his hips as Steve continues to unload the trunk behind him.

"I'm sorry, man." Lucas sighed. "My stupid sister turned it off."

"Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I'm pretty sure he's a baby Demogorgan."

All Lucas could do in that short moment was blink as he processed the truckload of information.

"Wait. What?"

"I'll explain later," Dustin answered. "Just meet me and Steve at the old Junkyard."

Another wave of shock hit Lucas abruptly.

"Steve?"

"And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket."

"Steve Harrington?"

Behind Dustin, Steve had finished packing his bag and he closed the trunk. His voice barely echoed through the mic and into Lucas's ears, but it was undeniably Steve's.

"All right, let's go."

Dustin grabs the remaining bucket - the other in Steve's hand - and quickly falls in line.

"Just be there, stat," Dustin ordered into his headset. "Over and out."

[aloneinthehellfire]

Eight Months [Masterlist]

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n went missing at the end of spring. A note was left explaining that after her father, Bob Newby, died, she just couldn’t bear to stay in Hawkins. The others were shocked but after gaining no leads on where she could be, they had to accept that she was gone. But when summer rolls in and Hawkins starts getting scary, Steve and Dustin find themselves venturing into a Russian base and uncover more secrets than they bargained for.

[Made a masterlist for a series that started as a one shot. Again.]

Part One: A Surprise Reunion

Part Two: The Serum

Part Three: Escape The Lab

Part Four: Drugged Confessions

Part Five: There Are No Second Chances...

AloneInTheHellfire's Masterlist