#a child solider is what they made you / s. harrington

[liveshauntedmoved]

❝ don’t  shut  me  out ❞ | @wheelrisms​ | meme [ accepting ]  

                          Shutting people out was Steve’s favourite way to cope ; or well, it was what he new best. It was his only way he knew how to do things. Burdening others with his issues, he couldn’t do that. “I’m not shutting you out,” A lie falling so easily off of his tongue as he looks at Nancy. “What’s there to shut you out on? I’m an open book.” Except he’s not - his childhood is a firm do not talk about it label all over it. Talking about how he feels ; yeah - Steve doesn’t know how to do it, so in turn it ends with him shutting him out.

[annachronisme]

My 3AM AU

Home Economics is an obscure ass name of a class I’m sure I saw somewhere and I have no single idea what it entails. But in my head somehow it made link betweent that and that things in 2000′s movies/series where they have to take of an egg or a doll as parents or something like that and my brain was like I smell good shit let’s focus on that. 

So. 

That. 

Metal sandiwch style. And Ima try to write someting.

It was Friday afternoon, the last day before school day and last lesson of the day for the students he had, he knew he checked. Dropping his bag loudly on the desk , Mr. Smith called for silence. 

“Good afternoon, everyone” he smirked evilly. Looking through the room he saw a few of them gulps. Others looked on edge but not worried. “I have a bit of homeworks for you all.”

He turned back to the desk, ignoring the complaints and grunts behind his back. He took the box under his desk out and put it on his desk. 

“This. Is your final grade for the semester. It is a group project and no you can’t choose your group, I have already made the groups. And I don’t want to hear you whining about it, it was a random drowning number.’ Opening the box, he took out a doll. ‘ Your assignment is not hard. You’re the parents of those delightful things for the next three weeks of breaks and you have to take care of it. Every doll will collect the data and I will judge if you took enough care of your fake child. The Groups are on the board. “

And for the rest of the hour, he explained how the dolls worked and how to take care of it, even told them about the fail-safe button that was to be used only for emergencies and with a damn good reason and some solid proof. The dolls were weirdly realistic, not like the plastic doll you offer to your niece on her birthday. More squishy and as heavy as a real three month old baby.

Now see, you could blame Karma, Fate or whatever you wanted but when he did the poles for the group he had fully accepted the fact that , in the end, someone would be singled out due to the uneven number of students. What was not expected was the three names left. 

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

At that time, he just knew there was no way he could single out any of those three without the other two tearing into each other. 

Steve and Billy ? After that big fight he heard they had, that was a no-no. 

 Billy and Eddie ? They would kill each other within five minutes, he was sure of it.

 Steve and Eddie would work, they both butted heads but in the end he had a feeling it could work. 

But he also had that feeling that leaving out Billy was a very bad idea. 

So he did the next best thing.

Absolutely nothing.

He heard before he saw the three boys in front of the board each face ranging a different level of shock, disbelief and absolute horror. It was also hard to not hear the loud ‘What the fuck” Munson so kindly let out. 

‘Mr. Smith, you can't seriously leave us in the same group!’ said Harrington. 

‘See, that’s the thing. I can. You three’ he said pointing fingers at each boy. Hargrove looked ready to tear his head off, Munson looked completely unbothered and Steve was clearly looking at him like he lost his mind. ‘ will have to cooperate on this. Word of advice: it would be better for you to work on it at the same time and I know that you’re probably going to schedule which one is going to have to take care of it at night - and you will- but work it out. Have a three week long sleepover or something like that, I don’t care. But do it together and not one after the other.’

Taking the last doll out of the box, he turned around and thrust the doll into Steve's arms who caught it clumsily. 

"Congratulations, it’s a boy.” and he left. 

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Eighteen

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part eighteen of this fic. Steve and Nine must leave the house and stumble upon — ? 

Word Count: 3,300 +

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: Yay! I think that I have an idea of where the next few chapters are going (and then... *whispers* conclusion?) Enjoy! 

P.S. watch Joe Keery’s new movie Spree! I did! It’s great! :-)

The two sat in Steve’s familiar car (doors locked, double-checked) with the windows down, breeze against both of their faces as he cruised down even more familiar roads. They had made a successful escape through his bedroom window earlier: Steve first, Nine second with a perhaps overly-cautious helping hand to guide her down. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier,” Steve said when her shoes hit the pavement of his back patio. He hadn’t bid farewell to either one of his parents, but it wasn’t necessary as long as they couldn’t find him if they went looking. 

After a solid half-hour of aimless loops around town, the car’s gaslight began to blink. “Shit,” Steve muttered, turning the wheel down a new road. “I have to stop to get gas,” he said, his head drifting from the road to glance to his passenger. “It will only take a minute,” he reassured. 

Five more minutes and he pulled in slowly to a gas station, exhaling with relief at it’s empty state. “You can stay in the car,” he told Nine. She looked to him and nodded with a smile, happy to oblige. He slung his door open lazily, exiting the car as Nine shifted in her seat. She pulled her left arm in front of her, eyes catching the vibrancy of red leaking through layers of white bandage it wore. Warily, she dragged a finger against the stain, and took it away to see that same red on her finger pad. “Shit,” she said, copying Steve. 

He returned to his seat, a gas pump sticking out of the side of the car where he had been standing. Sitting again, he gazed over at Nine. “Oh,” he said, then turning in his seat so that he could see her better. He caught sight of her concern and reached out a hand. “Here, lemme see,” he said gently. She offered him her arm and he turned it tenderly, assessing the damage of the day’s activities. “There’s a small store down the road from here. We can stop there and pick up some more bandages, fix you up,” he proposed. The gas pump clicked, signaling that the tank was full. 

The newly-filled-up car pulled into a parking place in front of an indeed small store, and once again Steve was reassured by the lack of action in the lot. There were a couple more vehicles than the gas station (which had been completely empty) held, but none of them were tall, white vans that implied severe danger. He made sure to check, as if a five-second head start to peel out of the storefront would make all the difference if one had been there. “I’ll be right back, any requests?” Steve asked Nine as he stood, a hand on the top of the car as he  leaned down to peer in from outside. 

“Can I come with you?” she asked.

“Uh… I meant, like, snack requests,” he replied, his words stalling as he thought over his ask. “But, um, you can. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Nine said, a hand reaching to unbuckle her seat belt. She took the hat that had been sitting on the dashboard from its last use as she slid from the car. 

She jogged around the front of the car to Steve and he laughed quietly. They walked together now, and he slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him with ease. His forearm draped down her front side as he spoke softly, something close to a whisper-in-her-ear. “You know, I’m starting to think that the hat doesn’t do much,” he teased. She pulled her head back, looking at him with the beginnings of a smile. A hand reached up from her side and she plucked it from herself. Holding it by the brim, she pulled it down over Steve’s head instead. “Hey! Not cool,” he said, flicking up the front of the hat that had covered his eyes. He took the hat off and gave his head a shake in an attempt to fix his hair from it’s damage. “It looks better on you, anyway,” he admitted, placing it back on Nine’s head and dragging his hand down the front of the brim to cover her eyes as it had his. She tossed her head up to give Steve a bemused smile from underneath the hat’s cover. 

The store was mostly empty when they walked in. The buzzing of some unrecognizable song played through speakers too cheap to work without the hum of electrical problems masking the music’s lyrics. The cashier supposed-to-be greeter didn’t look up from her magazine when the bell in front of the door rang to signify their entry, but the two wandered past her without care anyway. A few steps down one aisle and the shuffling of objects in the neighboring one made Steve creep backwards, stretching out his neck to peek around the corner at the commotion. 

Joyce Byers stood, far too occupied to notice spying Steve, using one arm to shovel boxes of Christmas lights into her cart, and the other to keep the cart steady. He contemplated her actions for a moment — squinted confusion — then reached a hand out in front of him to gently grab for Nine who was a slow step ahead of him and unaware of his departure. She twisted around lightly at the sensation of his touch (fingertips brushing her arm, just out of reach) then sent him a puzzled look of which he did not see. He pulled himself back up then, and whispered so only Nine would hear. 

“Will’s mom is here, I have to talk to her,” he informed, throwing in a “she’s trustworthy,” afterwards to settle her nerves about being seen. 

Rounding the corner, Steve hesitated with his introduction, wondering if he should clear his throat like he had caught Joyce in the middle of something. “Hi, Ms. Byers,” he called out, a little bit of something — perhaps he adopted a shyness — to his voice. 

She turned around sharply, bumping her arm against the handle of her cart and rattling the contents inside. Stacks of the Christmas lights Steve had watched her throw into a pile sat on top of a few lamps as the foundation of her basket. She would hit the light bulb section next, not bothering to count the number she’d need for however many lamps she had claimed before sweeping them on top of the pile. Her hair fell in front of her face as she jolted to Steve’s voice, and a hand reached up quickly to tuck it behind her ear — an action taken less to look presentable and more to be able to see whoever was advancing on her. Shoulders deflating from the scare, Joyce sighed and tried on a smile that looked a little too forced. “Hi, Steve,” she returned. 

“We- uh. We were just here to pick up a few things and saw you,” he started explaining his hello. “Oh. This is Nina, she’s a friend,” he said, lifting a hand to waver in front of Nine as he introduced her politely. Joyce, as if she hadn’t even noticed the girl, lit up her face in a look of corrective surprise. “Oh!” she sang, another solemn grin but also an accompanying hand stretched out for a shake. Nine, caught a little off-guard herself, took the handshake with a kind smile. “Hi,” she said, pondering a second after if she should tell Joyce it’s ‘nice to meet her,’ (people say that, right?) then realizing that she waited too long to decide. Steve sweeped the conversation right back up anyways. 

“How are you? Um- like, is there anything we can do?” he said, unable to decide on a question. How is one supposed to speak to someone with a missing child? What are the right things to say? Did he already mess up? He wondered for a second if this was one of those situations where you just don’t mention the elephant in the room, it’d be rude to bring it up. He then mentally scolded himself for even considering that to be the right route to take. It’d be inconsiderate not to, he assured himself. 

Nine could have sworn she saw Joyce flinch when he asked his questions, as if it would break the role of happy mother she was playing to answer them. “Um - you know -” (he didn’t) “Just doing everything I can. I think people are starting to think I’m crazy”. She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding even more forced than the smile had appeared. 

Steve held his breath a moment, replaying the mental picture that had been on loop in his mind since Dustin told him Will was missing. The mental picture of Will himself, the night Steve and Nine dropped him off at home, opening the door to his house and disappearing inside. Steve worried repeatedly if this particular moment he had often called upon was a mix-up, a recollection of a different night he had conveniently changed the time stamp on. He kept asking himself if he really saw Will go inside that night. He did, right? It wasn’t just his guilty subconscious protecting him by substituting memories, right? 

“You’re not crazy,” Nine unexpectedly spoke. Steve glanced at her then quickly retreated his gaze. 

“Thank you,” Joyce said with a sincere smile that faded into silence. 

Wanting to recover, Steve opened his mouth to speak again, but Joyce turned suddenly to gesture to her cart. “I guess this doesn’t really help my look,” she said as she peered over the mountain of electrical supplies. 

“What is it all for?” Steve asked, thankful for both the recoup in conversation and new attention paid to the second elephant in the room. 

Joyce shifted on her feet, hesitant and unsure of how to continue. She was starting to realize her lack of skill in answering questions. “I- I’m going to sound… I’m going to sound delusional,” she said. For the first time in the conversation her voice fizzled out, became weaker with clear indication of tears that wished to join the dialogue. “I feel like Will is trying to communicate with me”. 

Steve’s eyebrows jumped and he staggered over a reply. “Wh- wait, what? Did he call or something? Did someone take him-” he stopped as Joyce began to shake her head. 

“No, no, nothing like that. He just…” she trailed off, refusing eye contact as she searched for the words. “The lights”.

“The lights?” Steve glanced at her shopping cart once more.

“They flicker. And I know it doesn’t make sense but- but I feel like it’s him.”

There is another silence as the two process Joyce’s words - interpretations independent of one another withheld from sharing as she waits for a reaction. Steve first considers the woman in front of him, her cart of lights and missing child, and has to wonder if she is (as politely as he could put it) losing it. He then acknowledges the woman to the side of him, steals another glance in her direction as he remembers how he met her and what she can do, the reason they’re in the store in the first place and how they came to be in the situation. Maybe Joyce was doing just fine.

Nine’s head quirked as she tilted it a little in confusion. Confusion or realization — her mind connecting dots, checking boxes on a recently developed mental checklist that helps her decide if something is just peculiar enough to be related back to her. Flickering lights, like the flashlights Steve, Dustin, and her swung from limp wrists in the forest. Flickering lights, like the ones above her head in the lab that made her close her eyes tight when her powers left them flashing too erratically. 

“You feel like it’s Will?” Steve said. The realization began to dawn on him that this is a heavy conversation to be having in a shitty, run-down store that’s only still in business because the town it’s in is too small to let it die. And so he deliver’s his response a tad quieter, suddenly itching for a bit more privacy. 

“I know how it sounds… but that’s why-” and she gestured to her cart again. “I have to find out”. 

“No- um,” Steve stumbles for a logical response. “I get it,” he tells her, “you’d do anything to find him”. 

Nine hadn’t gotten a chance to choke over her own response. Instead she was still thinking up ways she could somehow help the woman she had just met who stood sad and small in front of her. 

Steve inhaled, cutting short her chance as he redirected the conversation. “Well we- we’re just here for some bandages. Um-” Is it rude to just shift the topic like this? He’s second-guessing himself more often than he’s used to. “Nina scraped herself up pretty bad earlier.” Nine looks down at her arm, a problem completely forgotten from her mind despite the still growing red leak showing through the bandage. It was stinging, too, she remembered. “We’re here, though. Any help you need — we’re going to find Will. I know that,” he finished. 

Consoling looks shared between thank-you’s concluded the conversation within the minute. Now the groups backed away from one another, heads turned to watch the departure and toss solemn smiles for the other to catch. A few awkward strides and Steve and Nine were rounding the corner of the isle, shuffling to redirect their attention back to their errands. Neither of them were brave enough to talk again with Joyce so close in the otherwise silent store. And so Steve led Nine down the closest row of shelves, eyes glossing over the products lined up on each one but not quite focused enough to register what they were (what did they even come here for, again?). 

He moved hurriedly, putting as much space as possible between them and the woman he could only assume was still stockpiling light bulbs. On his third twist around an end-cap, Nine reached a hand out to grasp onto his wrist and stop him from continuing his march. He turned to her easily, eyebrows perked as if he didn’t understand why she stopped their search (...for… oh, yes! bandages). She kept her eyes on his face, and after a moment it gave into a look of distress; brows quirking again, this time dipping downwards with a sadness he wasn’t able to disguise anymore. Big brown eyes so somber, he looked like a puppy someone had just kicked. 

“Steve,” Nine said, and her voice was pacifying — a quilted warmth that fit snug around his name. 

A determined hand — the one Nine had dropped from her gentle hold — reached from his side and rubbed once underneath his eye. He hadn’t started crying yet but his vision was wet, and he was trying to scare the tears away. Unsettled breathes made his chest rise and fall quickly while he tried to catch up with his brain’s sudden increased demand for oxygen. Nine said his name again, conciliatory tone still present and pretty. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

He was looking down at her, but when he spoke he took his eyes away from hers. Instead his gaze darted around the store to fixate on anything else. “I can’t-” he started, his own voice weak and damaged from his body’s anxiety. He tried to center himself enough to talk, blinking irritatedly in an attempt to get rid of that threat of tears he hadn’t forgotten about. He was shaking his head now as he worked up the breath to continue, “I was responsible for her kid. She- she trusted me. I was supposed to get him home safe and now she has to deal with the fact that I failed.” He looked to her again — either her turn to react or his turn to take another breath. 

“Steve, it’s not-” 

“I can’t even remember if I made sure he got inside that night. I don’t know what happened and I’m too fucking stupid to remember.” 

“Don’t say that,” Nine said, but her words were pushed away.

“She thinks she’s losing her mind. And she might be, I don’t even know, but I know I could have done something.” His words were picking up speed alongside his heaving chest. A tear finally escaped his vision but he was too focused on his speech of self-hatred to notice. It traced down the length of his cheek but he didn’t feel it. 

“No you couldn’t have,” Nine told him, and she sounded sorry. “Steve, look at me”. 

And he did, face still painted with pain. “You can’t remember that night because of shock. Your brain is trying to fixate on every detail but it can’t happen. You’re not stupid.” She said her words like she was so sure of them (because she was), but Steve looked skeptical at best. Nine continued anyway, reassurance incomplete and will with unwavering persistence. “You didn’t fail at anything. You’re a good friend to those kids and a good guardian, too. Something happened that night that was out of our control. Something from Hawkins’ Lab happened.”  

He sighed this time, eyebrows furrowing as another tear dropped. 

“You told me it wasn’t my fault that Will was taken, and now I’m telling you that it wasn’t yours, either.” 

For a moment he simply thought about her words — a long moment that convinced her that he didn’t believe them. His lips parted to speak but he only took in air to hold it in his lungs. Another second passed and his shoulders fell; perhaps he was giving in. Giving into what she told him, giving into her, and he reached downwards to wrap his arms impulsively around her body still somehow warm from the outside sun. She let him, of course, and felt his fingers squeeze around the fabric of her shirt. With his head burrowed between her neck and her shoulder, his hold was desperate and he breathed out a huff of air that felt built up, heavy against her neck. She hugged him back, and while he closed his eyes tight, she understood that this was both a thank-you and a release. 

-

A single bag with a lone item dangled from Steve’s grip as they walked, side-by-side again, through the parking lot. Joyce, a few minutes ahead of them, spun her cart around by the handle so that she could stack her purchases in the backseat of her car. Seeing her from afar, that nagging resumed in Nine’s head, reminding her of her aching desire to somehow help the woman. 

“We have to help her,” Nine said, and her walking slowed. She didn’t look away from Joyce when Steve turned to face her, and she missed his visibly confused reaction. “What?” his disorientation still managed it’s way into his voice, though, and for a moment he thought that she meant they should assist Joyce with her shopping bags. 

“We have to go to her house, see what she’s talking about”.

“Nine, hold on-”

“If she can contact Will then maybe I can figure out where he is. No more wandering around the forest unsure of what we’re even looking for. I can find him. I can actually find him this time and get him out of there. Steve, I-” she pulled her eyes away from Joyce and looked wildly at Steve. 

“Wait, slow down,” he told her, jumbling to catch up with her rapidly developing plan. 

“Steve, we can save him,” she said. 

He paused at this, and the bag at his side swayed lightly. Then, looking off to where Nine had been so focused, he studied the woman so integral to the plan. 

“Okay, I’m in. If you think we can save Will, I’m definitely in,” he told her, unmoving. He brought his head back to Nine after a moment of delay. “She doesn’t know… know about you, though. How are we going to… do this?”

Nine paused herself. “...I guess we let her know”.

---

A/N: Realizing how sad these characters have been these past few chapters... they’re going through a lot, okay?! Can’t promise it will get more uplifting right away, but I have... plans. Whatdoya think?

Tag List: @ggclarissa​ @gurl-ly​ @hyp-oh-critical​ @alewifex​ @we-are-band-sexuals​ @cpt-lamby​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @easvtohate​ @used-avocado​ @kwyloz​ @itzpikapie​ @samwise-babeyy @1985keery​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @mochminnie​ @peterwandaparker​ @ayamecrevan​ @lilyhw1​ @seninjakitey​ @lulurose17​ @write-from-the-heart​ @harringtonlr​ @sledgy14​ @stranger-names​

[maluminspace]

Any Other Way

Genre: dad!michael

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Reader

Word Count: 1479

Requested: By anon for spooky!sos 2019

Trigger Warnings: n/a

A/N: Jex and I agreed to start posting these early as we’ve started getting ideas for them! We’re still accepting requests, so get your thinking caps on and send some in... Spooky!sos2019 is officially underway, lovelies! 💖

Halloween had always been one of Michael’s favourite times of year. You’d know this from very early in your relationship with him and yet, he’d managed to surprise you this year by being more enthusiastic than ever.

Despite his excitement, your husband had also been suspiciously secretive in recent weeks. When you’d questioned him about the various packages arriving in the past couple of weeks, Michael had simply replied that it was for the very special ‘father/son Halloween costume’ he’d had planned.

You’d gotten the hint that Michael wanted to surprise you with whatever he’d been working on and so you’d resisted questioning him any further.

Of course, you’d tried bribing your son with ice cream for more information but even he had kept his mouth shut on this. 

It was safe to say you were more than a little intrigued and excited as the moment of the reveal drew ever closer. You’d spent all day busying yourself preparing for the annual party you and Michael always insisted on throwing. It had turned into more a of a kid’s party now, since you and all your friends had all settled down and started families.

All of that was finished now, though, and Michael had disappeared upstairs with your son some time ago. Just as you were about to call up to them, you heard your son laughing and Michael hushing him gently before shouting down to you. “Are you ready to see our costumes?”

You picked up the tea you’d made for yourself, intent on appearing casually interested. If Michael knew just how eager you were to see what he’d put together. “Sure, boys...” you called back as breezily as you could.

The two of them were still giggling as they traipsed down the stairs, playfully jibing at each other as they shuffled ever closer to the living room where you were sitting.

“Okay, are you sure you’re ready?” Your nine year old shouted from behind the wall separating the living room from the hallway. There’s clear a smile in his voice and it makes your heart swell with love.

“I already told you that I was, little mr!” You replied, giggling into your mug. “You’re really overdoing the suspense thing now...”

You heard Michael huff indignantly. “We’re not overdoing it!” He insisted. “This will totally be worth it, I promise!”

Before you could reply, your son yelled again. “Close your eyes and we’ll come in!”

The excitement in your only child’s voice was almost enough to bring a happy tear to your eye. You’d always known he’d be a huge Halloween enthusiast just like his dad. “Okay...” you replied disguising the break in your voice as a little cough whilst you placed your tea back down on the coffee table.

“Are they closed?” Michael checked. He was obviously taking this costume reveal very seriously and it was more than a little endearing.

You covered your eyes with your hands obediently. “Yes, I promise!” You replied.

Seconds later the sound of excited footsteps traipsing into the room signalled that your husband and son were getting into position. It was hard not to giggle at the way your son bossed Michael about. “You stand there dad!” He commanded, obviously exasperated at his dad’s incorrect position or stance.

Judging by the fresh footsteps on the hard wooden floor, it was safe to assume Michael was obeying your son’s command.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” You asked after a moment of silence.”

“One minute!” Michael replied. “Can you straighten my hat please, son?” He added and your heart melted as your nine year old giggled.

After another short moment, your son finally said; “okay! You can open your eyes now...”

It was probably a little stupid of you but you couldn’t deny the nerves in your tummy as you lowered your hands. The sight that greeted you filled your heart with more love than you could have imagined was ever possible. This was definitely one of those family moments that you’d treasure forever.

Michael and your son had been plotting all this time to put together two costumes that really meant a lot to you all as a family. “Look at you two!” You gasped, the biggest smile on your face as you leaned forward in your seat. “You both look incredible!”

They were dressed as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson from ‘Stranger Things’. Their costumes were perfect replicas of the characters in your favourite show to watch together.

Michael’s ‘Scoops Ahoy’ uniform was virtually flawless. The shorts were a little baggy on him which just made him look even more in character. The dark brown wig he’d decided to wear beneath the sailor’s hat was also a great choice. All-in-all, he looked completely recognisable as one of your favourite characters.

Your son was smiling widely beneath the yellow and green cap he was donning. It finished off his ‘Camp Know Where 85’ uniform perfectly. Unlike your husband, your nine year old had no need for a wig. Your son had inherited Michael’s sandy locks and they’d somehow exaggerated his curls to help him resemble his favourite character from the show.

“Your costumes are absolutely perfect!” You exclaimed, getting to your feet and crossing the room towards them to get a better look. It must have taken a lot of work to get them exactly right!”

Your son nodded proudly. “It took Dad a while but he got it exactly right!” He looked up at Michael with the most beautiful admiring smile you’d ever seen on his little face. The pretty green eyes he’d inherited from his father sparkled happily as he wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, hugging him lovingly.

Your husband nodded tearfully, obviously enjoying this father/son moment as much, if not more than you were. He hugged his son close and offered you a watery smile. “Come on then, Mr!” He sniffled, “Let’s go trick or treating before all the good stuff’s gone!”

The nine year old giggled excitedly as he pulled away from Michael and made off towards the hallway.

“Hey!” You yelled, pouting a little. “I need some pictures of my awesome ‘Stranger Things’ boys before you go!”

Your son rolled his eyes as he plodded back over to you. “Hurry up, though!” He whined, “I wanna go to Mrs Morris’s house before she gives the other kids all of those cool chocolate eyeballs she always gives out!”

“Oi, Mr.” Michael reprimands, his voice a little sterner than usual. “What have we talked about respecting your parents, huh?”

Your son’s cheeks reddened as he muttered an apology and offered you a hug to sweeten you up. You accepted it gladly, assuring him that you forgave him before ushering him back over to his father. “Okay, do a pose for me.” You grinned, pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Michael and your son obliged easily, adopting a pose that they each felt their character would be happy with as you snapped as many photos as you could.

After a solid minute of picture taking, your son grew impatient, asking again if they can leave now. You nodded, still smiling. “Don’t eat too many of the sweets, though! I’ve made a bunch of party food that needs eating...”

Your two favourite boys in the world agreed that they wouldn’t- Michael knowing full well that the comment was aimed just as much at him as at it was at your son. “Our guests are due to start arriving an hour or so, can you be back by then please?”

“Of course we will.” Michael assures you. “We wouldn’t want our lil guy to miss out on greeting his new crush...”

“Dad!” Your son pouted, cheeks turning crimson again. “I don’t have a crush!”

“Michael, stop teasing him!” You smirked, knowing that Michael had a point. You’d noticed how your son’s behaviour had changed whenever the Irwin’s brought their kids over. You were sure that he was crushing on their eldest child but he’d tell you in his own time if he was.

“We laid your costume out upstairs, babe.” Michael smirked as your son opened the front door and disappeared outside. “We decided that Steve and Dustin needed a monster to fight so we made you a ‘shadow monster’ costume.” He laughed mischievously.

You rolled your eyes, “thanks, I guess...” you laughed. “Now go on, I’ll see you both in an hour!”

Michael pressed a brief kiss to your lips before jogging down the driveway to where your son is waiting.

You can’t stop yourself from lingering at the doorway for a little while, watching Michael guide your son to each of the houses on the opposite side of your street. Your husband was as much of a child as the nine year old he was supervising but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

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Tag list: @clffrd @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @lukesahoy @thrillchaser @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @valentinelrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @stonedahlia @myfalsedevotion @aulxna

[olivias-cardigan]

long ass tag

i was tagged by the a m a z i n g @finnhard, love ya zayna!!

GENERAL

How many people on Tumblr do you know in real life? 1 @kylokiwi!!

Do you want to change your name? even though my name is basic i love it :)

What time did you wake up this morning? 6:20 (thank god its friday am i right)

What were you doing last night? babysitting my neighbors 

Is there something you can’t wait for? MY FRIEND HAS HER SWEET 16 TOMORROW!!

What’s getting on your nerves right now? my english class 

Do you have a crush on someone? i think i do but then i think i don’t

What do you like about yourself? i think that i am fairly nice + pretty funny :)

WANTS

Kids: yes!! i want four ( two boys + two girls )

Get married: yesss

Career: oof i have no idea!! um maybe something with cooking? or law or forensics i don’t know i am very undecided

LASTS

Last drink: water 

Last meal: fries from mcdonald’s

Last phone call: the mom of the girl i tutor

Last text sent: i said “home” to my parents 

Last song you listened to: girls - the 1975

Last time you cried: a few hours ago my friends are hilarious

IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU…

Made a new friend? yes

Fallen out of love? i’ve never been in love

Met someone who changed you? for sure

Found out who your true friends are? i think so :)

Found out someone was talking about you? yesss unfortunately (its a very long story)

NOW

Eating: nothing

Drinking: water

Listening to: "girls” - The 1975

I’m about to: write something ;)

Lips or eyes? eyes probably

Hugs or kisses? h u g s

Nose kisses or neck kisses? i wouldn't be able to tell you

Shorter or taller? taller (literally doesn't take much)

Older or younger? idc as long as you are close to my age 

Hook up or relationship? relationship for the win

HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: no

Drank liquor: do sips count?

Lost glasses/contacts: when do i know where they are is the question

Sex on first date: no ma'am ( never been on a date but not something i would do )

Broken someone’s heart: solid no

Been arrested: ALMOST OMG THIS IS AN INTERESTING STORY (send me a message in my inbox if you wanna hear it lol)

Turned someone down: nope

Developed a crush on a friend: yes oof

Dated someone twice: never dated anyone

Been cheated on: nope :)

Kissed someone and regretted it: no 

Lost someone special: yes

Been Depressed: no

Been drunk and thrown up: definitely not ( i'm a very boring child whoops )

Talked to someone with the same name as you: ALL THE TIME I HAVE THE MOST COMMON NAME OMG

DO YOU BELIEVE…

In yourself: for the most part

Miracles: i like to think they are possible

Love at first sight: maybe??

Heaven: again maybe??

Santa: nope

Witchcraft: nope @kylokiwi don’t kill me please

i’m tagging: @strangertoizer, @kylokiwi, @nctbeam, @biconwheeler, @willandspace, @heckin-harrington, @babylovereddie, @harringtonwife, @wyattoleff-istheloml, @multi-parker (if you wanna do it just say i tagged you!!)

[hcrgrove-blog]

Smile

Pairing: Billy the bully Hargrove x Reader

Prompt: ‘Bored’ - Billie Ellish ((AKA 34 days of Christmas and co. begins))

WARNINGS: angst (?), Billy Hargrove, swearing, mentions of abusive atmosphere/actions.

A/N: In no way do I condone or encourage ANY of Billy’s actions in Stranger Things. No matter what form it’s in abuse is WRONG. I dont care if you have (an) abusive parent(s) it gives his character no right to be a dick. If you or anyone you know is experiencing abuse please call the hotline. 1-800-799-7233 ||1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

He stared at the wall before him. Posters of models and pornstars alike had been ripped from the beige plaster in a fit of rage. His lungs burned with every ash filled inhale he allowed them, blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Slowly he stood from his bed, the frame creaking as he relieved it of his weight. Deliberate movements drug him to his closet, the shelves cracked and dismembered on its floor. He shrugged on a jacket and moved to his bedside table. Below the long-dead lamp lay a crumpled polaroid of a girl. He reached out a hand, gently removing it from its place. He stared longingly at the Mona Lisa of choice.

She was pretty, that was for damn sure, and she was smiling. He hadn’t seen her smile in such a long time. Billy sucked in a harsh breath, raising a denim-clad arm, he wiped at his eyes drearily.

He hadn’t smiled in a long time either.

He allowed a callus ridden finger to brush over the wrinkled surface of the photo before he dropped it onto the table once more. The soft rattle of his keys echoed throughout the destroyed room as he grabbed them from their place next to the ashtray where he quickly bummed his cigarette. Billy didn’t linger in the room much longer.

He made sure his dad was gone before heading to his car, the dim lights of his street softly illuminating his one true escape from his shit show of a life. The engine hummed to life as he buckled his seatbelt (a thing he rarely did, he couldn’t fuck this up) the pale wash of his headlights lighting up the dreary front yard of his home.

He didn’t look back as he drove away.

The drive to your house was somewhat of a long one (he chose to take the backroads, allow himself some time to think this through). The radio that usually pumped rage inducing bass through the car was now dormant in the silence of the vehicle. He allowed not one, but both of his hands to find the wheel as if it where the only thing anchoring him to the earth. It might as well have been.

He parks down the street so he can arrive unnoticed. Your dad had always been a stickler for late night visits to the house. When he reaches your window he hesitates. Usually, he would just knock three times before climbing right in, this time it’s different.

This time you don’t want him there, this time you want him to stay away. To think about things.

And he had,

He knocks one , two, three solid knocks against the glass.

You’re awake when he climbs into your room, the glow fo your lamp dimly illuminating your features. They bounce off the high rise of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips, and for a moment you just want to rush into his arms and be held. But you cant let everything you had worked so hard for crumble so quickly. Not now, not when he was standing right in front of you like you had wanted.

“Hey, Billy.”

There is no shame in the fact that you get the first words. There is no shame in the way they may have crumbled towards the end, a small hint of broken satisfaction laced in the words when you see him wince. He can see the fading bruises that circle your eye. He hadn’t meant to do it, the punch had been meant for that fucking Steve Harrington kid. The one who you jerked his arm away for. The one who you were willing to leave Billy for.

Steve had always been there, your best friend. Your rock. His girlfriend (Nancy) had been your best friend since kindergarten, there was no way you were going to let your boyfriend beat the shit out of him.

Why would there be?

“Hey, princess,” His voice is broken as it leaves his winter cracked lips. He blows out a puff of stolen breath, pushing a hand through the unruly curls at the base of his neck. Carefully, you move over on the bed. If he wanted there was a spot for him, a spot to sit and talk to you. Billy looked to you for an explanation, finding that your small nod to the empty space was enough. You watched as he sat down, eyes finding a spot on your comforter to stare at.

“You’ve got to talk to me, Billy. I know your dad isn’t treating you right, but there’s more to it isn’t there?” You search for his eyes, but he refuses to meet your gaze. You’re almost frustrated with him! You were trying your best to make this work, to LOVE him. Fuck you DID love him.

“I’m giving you every piece of me Billy Hargrove. I need you to do the same for me.” He cant take it, he breaks down. His head falls to his hands, tears staining those sunkissed cheeks you had pecked oh so many times. Despite every fiber of your body telling you to let him work it out on his own, you pull him to you. You let your body be the vessel that takes him from the hell he had to go through. He clings to you like a child, weeping into your pajama-clad shoulder.

You make no move but to hold him and rest your chin at the base of his neck. His arms are circled loosely around you, your body moved to sit comfortably upon his legs. You sucked in a breath, the dilapidated scent of whatever cologne he had been wearing that day flooding your senses.

At some point in his meltdown, you had pulled him to the pillows, his jacket, and shoes discarded on your floor. It was somewhere when he began to calm down that the apologies spilled from his mouth like wildfire.

“I’m so sorry (y/n), for everything. Max, Lucas, Steve, this…” He touched your eye gently, pulling away when you sunk your teeth painfully into your bottom lip to prevent the wince.

“I’m so so sorry..” This continued until the sun broke the violet sky, dark blues fading to the cotton candy pink of the early morning. It continued until the hurt in your heart faded to loss, and then despair. It continued until you finally forgave him, and smiled a little more. It continued until he stopped fighting, and his little sister stopped hating him. It continued until he finally got out of his shit storm of his father’s life. Until he got his sister out.

“I forgive you, Billy Hargrove. You piss me off, and I hate you, but I love you.”

[liveshauntedmoved]

The chimes had sent a dread through Steve - the chimes of the clock telling the that they had lost Max, which made them only fight harder and be more determined to get rid of the asshole that has been fucking with their lives. Max had deserved to live, and Steve was holding it together the best he could, even though his heart was shattering at the thought of Max dead, of Lucas and Erica crying over her body. It was an image he doesn’t want to see, and hates that he can see it in his head. The ground cracked because of course a portal was opening up where Max’s life had ended. It wasn’t an easy desicion - but, Steve, Robin and Nancy all decided that Nancy was going to climb through this portal to get to Lucas, Max and Erica, and while Steve and Robin headed back, the way they had originally planned to go back. They’d collect Dustin and Eddie on their way out of the Upside Down, because they should be on the right side of Hawkins by now. There was another dread filling Steve - the aspect of having to tell Dustin that they’d lost Max, she hadn’t made it. That they had won ; they hope to God they won but at the cost of Max.

Steve and Robin were running, unsure of what would be going on with the portals and wanting to make it out of there quickly. But, something stalled them and Oh, Steve’s heart sunk again as he saw a sobbing frame ; Dustin’s sobbing frame holding a limp body. No - this wasn’t how it was suppose to go, at all. They were suppose to be in the real Hawkins. “Dustin? What happened?” Robin managed to ask as they had come close enough. 

Steve dropped to his knees, fingers feeling for a pulse ; fingers trying to give his energy to heal Eddie, but he can feel the energy stopping at the tip of his fingers as he found no pulse. There was no pulse in Eddie’s body, and Steve couldn’t heal him. You can’t heal the dead. He hates it, he really does - the grief stricken look on Dustin’s face as Robin lifted him up. “He - He didn’t runaway.” Robin gave Dustin a hug, while Steve made a decision ; they weren’t leaving Eddie’s body here. So, telling Dustin and Robin to go ahead and get out of here - he picked up Eddie’s limp body. For him, the other man was light - everyone was to him ; not that he lets anyone know that. No - it’s a secret he has to keep. And maybe, he’s wanting to carry Eddie because maybe he’s trying to see if he can save the man, Steve doesn’t want his friends to lose��two people in one night. It’s not fair.

On the right side, Robin had ushered Dustin into the RV and Steve followed; they will find a place to bury Eddie. He deserved to be buried, and not left alone. In the RV, the static voice of Nancy was coming through the walkie they had left in the thing, “Guys, you there? Dustin! Eddie! Come on!”

Robin picked up the walkie, and Steve could see the tears in her eyes as he laid Eddie on the couch, letting Dustin sit by his now dead friend, “Yeah... we’re here.”

“Good! Max, she’s alive!” There was hope, a new hope that surged through Steve because if Max was alive, that means he can heal her. He can help her. “Barley a pulse, but she’s alive. Erica hotwired Jason’s car and we’re headed to the hospital now.”

“That’s good. Um... Nance,” Robin’s voice cracking a bit as she takes the passenger seat, Steve taking the wheel and starting up the RV. “Eddie... he... Eddie’s dead.”

There was a sharp intake heard through the line, and it went silent for a few moments, “H-How’s Dustin?” Nancy asks, voice wavering slightly.

“Injured his leg, but alive. Um, we’re going to bury him, don’t know w-”

“Hoppers. Bury him there. No one goes out there, it’ll be safe,” Nancy’s quick thinking, and she tells them where to go before they said their see you laters, and so that’s what happened. Steve and Robin dug the grave, and they buried Eddie. Dustin made a makeshift marker, they’ll get something better later. 

Freshly cleaned a day later , insisted by Mrs Wheeler, they all head to the hospital. Everyone was waiting around the waiting room. Doctors and Nurses everywhere attending to people who had been injured in the ‘quake’ ; and Steve let the kids go first. Let them see Max.

When Steve had hugged Lucas, he held on a bit tighter and longer, giving his energy to the younger ; no one had to know. Nor, when he did the same to Erica who was scratched up, and if Steve finds out who hurt his kids - they will pay.

So, when Steve enters Max’s room - he can’t help the way his heart drops at seeing her like this. He takes a chair next to her, holding her hand in his, “Hey, you’re a fighter. I’ve known that since you were just some random girl,” Steve tried to laugh slightly at the term he had referred to Max when he had first meet her. “I’m sorry. So sorry - We should have done better, planned it more. Had back up plans. Then maybe you wouldn’t be here like this.”

As Steve was holding her hand, he was giving her his energy - she was taking to it, so Steve took it as a good sign. He kept on giving her all the energy he can, putting it into healing her - even as his eyes started to fall shut as his body was shutting itself off for a rest. It was going to need to recharge itself. And he will keep doing it. He will come back, every day ; give Max all his energy and focus so she can wake up, so she can be more alive again. He’ll pass out every time if it meant she will wake up. He’d give her his life, if he could because she deserved to live and be the kid she was meant to be. Steve will gladly push his limits to see her up again.

Because, he can’t lose her, and he can’t let Lucas lose her - let El, Mike, Dustin or Will lose her too. They can’t lose another person, they just can’t.

@wheelrisms / @deadlightstm

[liveshauntedmoved]

His face, it's hurting like a fucking bitch - whatever it is that the Russians, the truth serum that they had injected him with was wearing off which apparently means the pain of the hits he had taken earlier are starting to be felt. At least, all they had wanted to know, was where he worked, because he wouldn't know how he would have dealt if they had found out about his powers and what he could do.

El was injured, and Steve had tried to syphon off some energy to help her but, he was already weak due to the drugs to put enough energy into it without anyone question what he was doing, because no - they don't know about his powers. They can't.

Things were really bad, Steve was in overdrive, wanting to protect those he cares about, but there was only so much he could do. He could only punch so hard, could only move things so little. He can heal everyone after, give them parts of his energy until he passes out on his couch.

Max's screams are chilling to his ears, and when he sees what she does - his heart plumets to the ground. The Mind Flayer just thrusting each point into Billy as if he was just some meat for a kebab. He's frozen in fear of what is happening, but when he kicks back into gear, he is running towards them, towards Max and Billy. He could do it, play it off as him checking up on Max and no one would question it, right? But, as he gets down to them - he can only feel his energy filtering into Max. You can't heal the dead.

You can't heal the dead, and you can't heal emotional pain - two things Steve wished weren't true, things he wished he could change but he can't. There is a guilt that forms in his gut as he walks away from Max, unable to help her - feeling useless, though that isn't really a new feeling for Steve, but he always thought he was useful to the kids.

The guilt inside of Steve, showed itself in him avoiding Max for a few weeks - he couldn't bare the thought of seeing her so distraught over Billy, someone he knows she had a complex relationship with ; one Max was wanting to solve but, now she can't, and Steve thinks part of it is his fault. He should have acted sooner, should have jumped down the second Billy had first been impaled. A part of himself blames him for Max's sadness, so he puts space between him and her, and as a result the boys and El too. They take it as him healing, and he doesn't know if he should be thankful or not.

Steve can't heal the dead - but, he will do what he can to protect those kids, so they don't end up being someone he can't heal.

[liveshauntedmoved]

There was a sigh that left his lips as he threw himself against the couch, "Don't look at me like that," Steve says as he crosses his arms against his chest, avoiding looking at her. What did she expect him to do? Just leave it. They knew of his abilities now, and they just want him to not use them to help them. "Did you want him to bleed out?" That is an over extraction, Lucas would have been fine - it most certianlly wasn't the worst any of them have seen, but - Steve felt the need to heal it. "We aren't doing Steve Watch again, are we?"

@wheelrisms random starter bc experiment steve was iching to play

[liveshauntedmoved]

Experiment!Steve Aesthetic!

[liveshauntedmoved]

❝ what  makes  you  think  i’d  listen  to  a  word  you  say ? ❞ | @deadlightstm​​ | meme [ accepting ]  

                    Steve gives a shrug of his shoulders, trying to not let it the words effect him ; he thinks it’s stupid how words do that to him. Especially people he thought he was close with ; maybe he was naïve to think they were close, “Because we’re friends, and I do know what I’m doing.” He runs a hand over his face, a slight build of frustration coming out in a huff before he throws his head back.

[liveshauntedmoved]

Max had awoken a few days ago, and everyone had agreed to Steve Watch, which was basically at least one person had to be with Steve at all times to make sure he was resting when he wasn’t at his job at Family Video, which he’s somehow managed to keep - maybe it’s because no one else would be applying for a job in this shaken town, not right now anyway so Keith had no choice. They didn’t want Steve passing out anymore, not now that Max was awake and that was a tale to spin - when the doctors had left, Lucas had filled Max in on what everyone had found out about Steve ; about his powers and how he was using it to heal Max.

But, Steve was essentially stuck at home, when not at work - sometimes with the company of someone his own age, sometimes - well, it’s the kids and today was Mike’s day. He had come in to relieve Robin who had slept over after their shift at the Family Video. Now, Mike doesn’t hate Steve, they just never really got along well. Steve having dated Nancy, probably hasn’t helped but, Mike brought a book along with him and Steve just put on the TV as background noise as he really wasn’t paying attention to it. Mike wasn’t either, finding his book interesting. 

Mike’s stomach grumbled, and he looked up from his spot on the couch to not find Steve, brows frown together and he quickly checks outside, no - Steve’s car was still there, and Mike hopes that Steve hadn’t decided to walk. So, Mike decides to look around the house, his heart rate picking up slightly the more time passes as doesn’t see Steve. “Steve!” Mike yells out, as he climbs the stairs, each room, he calls for Steve and nothing comes back, and Mike runs to the phone before dialling home.

“Wheeler Residence,” Nancy’s voice comes through, and a very small wave of relief flickers through Mike.

“Nancy! I can’t find Steve! He... I was just reading on the couch, I... I didn’t see him get up! I...  I looked in his room. Nancy, what if... what if t-”

“Mike! Hey, calm down, take a deep breath and just, have you checked the pool? Remember he told us he can breath underwater, if he’s not there - tell me, and I’ll come over right away. Don’t hang up the phone, I’ll still be here. Check the pool.”

Mike nods his head, even though he doesn’t register that Nancy can’t see him, he lets the phone hang before running out to the pool, it was becoming warmer, so Steve had filled the pool for the kids to use to cool off. When Mike saw Steve at the bottom of the pool, he quickly ran back in, “He’s in the pool. I’m sorry I freaked.”

“It’s okay. Am I free to hang up? Or do you want me to come over?”

“No, I got it. I’ll just sit out by the pool, he’ll come up at some point.”

“He will. Bye Mike.”

“Bye Nancy.”

Mike, grabs his book from the couch before going and sitting on a pool chair at the edge of the pool, the sun beating down on him as he flicked through the pages, waiting for Steve to return to the surface - but, the longer he stayed under, the more Mike wondered if maybe Steve could run out of air to breath while underwater despite his powers. Unable to stop the fear from forming, Mike decides to jump in the pool, pushing at Steve’s shoulder as he had his eyes closed. When Steve opened his eyes, he looked right into Mike’s eyes - Mike’s eyes that held a whole lot of worry and fear in them.

Steve, on instinct, grabbed hold of Mike and pushed them up to the surface, “Mike? What’s wrong?”

“You! You fucking asshole! Y-You disappear on me, and I find you in the pool. Do you know how long you’ve been here? Hours dude! I...” Mike feels tears form in his eyes, because sure he and Steve but heads - but, Mike over the few years has grown to care for Steve, and he knows it’s returned with the way Steve pulls him into a hug, “Don’t.... Don’t do that again, please.”

“Okay.”

@wheelrisms

[liveshauntedmoved]

El, using her powers to make Steve stay seated:

Steve, not wanting to hurt her: Fine, I'll stay home.

Nancy, already making a plan: You will, and we shall have a schedule. Bev, you take first shift until he has his shift with Robin at the store. Make sure Robin is with him before leaving.

[liveshauntedmoved]

.

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part sixteen of this fic. What’s to happen and whose to blame?

Word Count: 2,800 +

Warning(s): Cussing, mild injury description

A/N: Just a thank-you to everyone who is reading & enjoying 🥺

Hopper paced in the kitchen of the Harrington home, his shoes squeaking against the hardwood every time he turned too quickly. A notepad, one-fourth used, sat turned over in his hands, and he stopped his marching to scratch words across a new page. He wrote it all out, hoping that seeing the story in the form of a list may provide him with a simplified perspective; a math problem to be solved on paper. With every bullet point he felt more like ripping the page from his notebook entirely, convinced that if anyone saw it, it would look like he had scribbled down an idea for a bad sci-fi movie. He finished the list anyway, and the last point written in all capital letters read: SHE SAYS WILL IS IN THE ‘UPSIDE-DOWN’. Big cartoonish quotes around the last word. 

The only person in the house who could claim it as his own residence entered the kitchen alone, joining Hopper who leaned over his notepad like a kid cramming for a test that he forgot to study for. Steve put one hand down on the counter and leaned against it, agitated. He asked a question simply: “what happens next,” and Hopper slowly raised his head from his notes. His face was dismayed, and it took him a second to think up a response. “Wh- what happens next? I don’t know what happens next, Harrington.” He spoke down to the teenager as he stood up to his full height. 

Steve gave him a defeated look, then hardened his expression to mirror Hopper’s own irritance. He wasn’t able to speak before Hopper continued. “If I am being honest, everything she told me today is…” he looked away from Steve, eyes still wide as his hand wavered in the air, beckoning the words to come to him. “... pretty much unusable,” he finished. 

“Unuse-” the word wasn’t even complete from Steve’s mouth, and he looked at Hopper wildly. “What do you mean? She just answered all of your questions, willingly, and you can’t use any of it? She just gave you so much on-” 

“Look, kid. What she told me sounds like delusion. Maybe the effects of trauma — I understand that the lab wasn’t good to her-”

“Good to her?” Steve’s second hand hit the countertop with a smack. “They fucking tortured her. But what she’s told you aren’t lies. I've seen this shit first-hand.” The curses came out clean, fear of authority gone.

Hopper sighed, picking up his notepad and backing up to lean back against the neighboring counter. He looked at Steve with a tight mouth, flipping closed his notes with a swing of his hand. “If I go into the station with the information she told me, nothing will happen. Even worse, CPS will come for the girl. Unidentifiable and without residence, she’ll be taken.”

Steve butted in again, eager to combat anything coming from the sheriff’s mouth. “No. If you call Child Protective Services, the lab will find out somehow and they’ll come get her.” He would admit that his voice sounded weak, like begging from a small child. His words were true though, and this fear that action he was without control over would be taken made his raging heartbeat audible to him in his ears. “She- she does have residence,”  he added breathily, one hand lifting from the counter as he looked down to himself. 

“You are not residence. She may be staying here, but this is not her legal home,” Hopper jabbed.

Steve sighed, a mixture of aggravation and defeat, head rolling back as he did so. 

“I know you want to protect her,” Hopper’s voice was low yet strong, careful to enunciate. It sounded like the voice of bad news, a tone that was rehearsed, and Steve wished he would turn this speech filter off. “But the things she is telling me are crazy,” Hop cursed himself for his inability to think of a better word to use, but crazy was just so fitting.

 “It’s all true, though. Ask me. Ask Dustin. We’ve witnessed it. You- you’ve witnessed it. I mean, you’ve seen the lab. Does that look like an innocent place?” Desperate was a fitting word for Steve’s tone, but it didn’t come off as artificial. 

Hopper didn’t say anything quite yet, a look of incapability flashing across his face as he hoped Steve would just continue. And he did, picking up momentum as he spoke. “We can show you. She can prove to you that she has powers, I swear, just not yet. You saw what she looked like when we pulled her out of that place, she needs to rest. But- but,” his eyes were wide now, and stared down Hopper frantically. “She can show you, okay? You need to believe us. She can’t fu-” he stuttered over his cursing this time, like he had realized it would be of no help. His facial expression softened as he finished the word anyway. “-fucking go back there again. I broke that promise once, I won’t do it again.”   

-

Hopper stepped down from Steve’s front porch, his legs tired despite the lack of work they had done, off to his car still decorated with fresh scratches across the hood. The argument had ushered him out after it’s conclusion, a lazy (yet genuinely unsure) ‘For now just rest up, we’ll figure this out’ acting as his last words and only instruction. He sat in his car for a few minutes before driving off, finally sliding a hand into the tight restraint of his front pocket and slipping from it his carton of cigarettes. He didn’t even bother to roll a window down before lighting one up. 

Steve stood in his doorway for a minute after the door had shut, a closing hand against it as he looked down at his shoes. The creak of unsure footsteps against the hardwood floor drew his head back up, and Nine stood before him: her presence small, her face apologetic. 

“Hey!” Steve said, the word a shocked reaction more than a greeting. “Do…” he trailed off as he took his hand from against the door, suddenly feeling the need to entertain, as if Nine were a house guest he was disappointing. “Want lunch? ...Maybe a late lunch, I guess.” His dire attempt to recover the easygoing atmosphere of their earlier morning came off unsettling, like a cover-up. He was desperate for both of them to forget Hopper’s visit, ignore the inevitable while they still had time to. He tried to lead the way with his proposition of a meal, but Nine’s gaze only wavered confusedly from down the hall. Sunlight poured in through the windows, the only source of light in the house as of right now, light switches left untouched for movie-viewing. It illuminated the corridor, painting it a warm color despite the feeling of cold in the space between them. She wanted to advance, perhaps shake the air of the stale feeling, but stayed where she was. “What’s happening?” she said, her voice quiet enough to be lost if it hadn’t been for the harsh silence. 

Steve shook his head as if he didn’t know what she was talking about, but could only bring himself to do so moderately. He warmed his expression and tied his voice in ribbons. “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t…” Nine stopped, one foot shifting her stance as she bounced uncomfortably. “Don’t pretend.” Her words were solid the second time, and her demeanor circled from worry to intolerance. She bit at her tongue, rethinking her delivery and considering backpedaling to relay it a little softer. She didn’t though, and Steve broke the extended silence with a sigh. He had been caught, and his arms hung at his sides as he took a few steps towards Nine. She breathed out too, a release of anxiety, and felt thankful for this break in what felt like a performance from both of them. 

“I don’t really know what’s happening,” Steve said, now landed fully in front of Nine as he looked down upon her grievingly. He wanted to place his hands on either one of her arms, rubbing them up and down lightly in a cheesy ‘we’ll get through this, honey!’ manner that you’d expect from a married couple. He stopped himself, figuring it was in bad taste. Patronizing, maybe, and he didn’t want her to feel like she deserved to be addressed that way. Like she was separate from the solution; like she was the problem, in fact. “Hopper doesn’t really know what to think, but you’re safe. He isn’t going to do anything that will put you in danger,” he told her instead. 

“He doesn’t believe me,” she said, looking up and drawing her eyebrows downward as she retreated back to her cold tone. “I have to show him, Steve,” his name came out softer, and she realized it was because she didn’t want to be mad at him. She wasn’t mad at him, and she wanted him to know this. 

His eyes turned bigger, but with sorrow, not shock. He tilted his head and tucked his bottom lip in his mouth to bite. 

He looked pained, and Nine considered his ask. ‘You can’t use your powers’ he had told her. It was a strange sentence to repeat in her head, as her body usually rattled with demands to do the exact opposite. It felt warm, the foreign request for self-preservation above all else, and she felt bad for not being able to enjoy it. Or feeling able to comply, either.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” Steve said, voice quieted like Nine had started out. “I know that it feels urgent, but you’re hurt, and you need to recover. That is what’s most important”. 

She looked at him, and they both had a sorrowful gloss over their eyes. 

“What about Will?” she asked, voice hushed again. 

“I know you want to help, but you have to take care of yourself first. We will find him,” Steve said, voice steady with a confidence he hoped would convince. His eyes peaked to her arm, still wrapped tightly in white, and contemplated how long he should wait to change the bandaging. ‘You have to take care of yourself first’ more accurately meant you have to let me take care of you first. 

Nine inhaled, tried to still her breath from shuttering. Her head felt heavy, and she looked away from him as if it would clear her mind, make her train of thought run smoother. 

“What if it’s my fault he’s gone?”

She phrased her words like a question, but it felt more like a confession the way it creeped from her mouth, slow and whispered like they were sharing secrets in a public setting. Will stood as a picture in her mind, the background a black void he threatened to fall into. Steve pulled his head back, questioning if he had heard her right and hoping that he hadn’t. He almost stammered out his own question, but stilled his tongue. He now did reach out, one hand cupping her shoulder, his grip strong. A little bit of tension she had been holding in her arm dropped intrinsically. 

“Nothing that has happened is your fault,” he said, whispering it like his own secret, voice sweet like syrup. He was careful to enunciate, wanting her to soak up every word. If he sharpened his words maybe he’d penetrate her doubt. 

Nine pictured Steve sitting in a small room, the man she could now attach a visual to — Hopper — standing in front of him. She thought of him stuttering over his answers, Hopper’s face glowing with a red rage as he snapped at him to spit it out. Consequences for Steve worse than a wounded ankle had begun emerging from the dark of her mind, the wordless arguing she heard from a room over looping in the background of the ugly scenario she couldn’t help her thoughts from drifting to. 

“Nine? Nothing is your fault,” Steve repeated. Nine looked up this time and stared at his black eye, still swollen. Purple skin that held a shine to it to remind her of a contradictory repercussion; an ulterior consequence that she had a better idea about. A situation that her mind could run with — she knew the people at Hawkins’ Lab. Go ahead, picture him bloodied and broken by the familiar faces in white coats, it would be so easy to do! 

“Nine…”

That black eye is just the beginning… 

Her mind was making her promises. 

“You’re not safe,” she barked, and Steve almost flinched. His widened eyes blinked once, twice before he spoke again. His voice was still gentle despite her increased volume. He couldn’t help it. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” he told her, shaking his head. The shine of his bruised skin caught the light. 

“No you’re not, and neither is Will.”

“Will is going to be fine too. He’s stuck — in that place — but that’s not something to blame yourself for,” he said, his heart burning with the need for her understanding. He wanted to place his second hand on her other shoulder to parallel the first, shake some sense into her like the message would stick if he just tried harder. 

“He’s stuck there because of me!” Her voice faltered, cracked for the first time that Steve had heard. It shocked him; he was used to her steady speaking. “The thing that took him there, the monster that we saw in the woods, it got out because of me,” she said, retreating to a calmer volume, tone still unable to match. 

He stood in front of her, unsure and therefore silent. His hand dropped from her shoulder, and brushed her arm on the way down to reach for her hand instead. Nine twitched, pulled away from his grasp as tears she tried to blink away formed in her vision. She kept blinking as she opened her mouth to speak again, voice decreasing in strength between each pause. “I’m the one they used to reach it, and it followed me out when I escaped. It got Will and it hurt you and so will they.” Her certainties rushed from her mouth in a list, and little Will returned as a mental image; a supervisor of her words. 

Steve watched, mouth opening but ill-prepared. A single tear escaped from Nine’s bitter eyes, but she swiped it away like a drop of blood from her nose. “What they did to you, what they made you do, isn’t your fault. Nine, you can’t carry that guilt.” A second tear fell, but she didn’t bother with wiping it from her cheek this time. It ran hot down her face, then disappeared down the length of her neck. 

“You’re not safe helping me,” she said, words teetering on the verge of a whisper, admission leaving her throat like a broken realization that she just couldn’t help but say out loud. 

And Steve still stood, arms now drooped at his sides, heartbeat heard in his ears again. In his mind, ideas bounced around detailing what she meant — what would happen to him, how it would end. Theories spun around, himself a human target on a wooden board being struck by knives. He stilled his thoughts, latching onto only one.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care that I’m not safe, because you aren’t either, and that’s more important to me.” He looked into her eyes, and this time she believed that his words were true. She breathed out, a gentle shutter that looked like it should be accompanied by heavy tears; a dry sob that folded her shoulders, pain too tired for crying. She held out, begging Steve with silence to take back his proclamation, but he didn’t. 

“You are my priority, and I’m helping you no matter what.”

Nine didn’t speak back, just watched him as he slowly returned his hand to where it was on her arm. This time she let him, her body swaying slightly with her heartache. Steve bent down marginally, peering into her eyes as a determined tear finally dropped to her face. He raised his other hand, quickly placing his palm against her cheek, three fingers folded underneath her chin, and brushed it away with his thumb. He took his hand away immediately — like he hadn’t thought through the action and didn’t want to linger. Like it was purely instinctual. Then, he wrapped his arm around to place a gentle hand on her back, guiding her to his chest in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on her head as he held her to him, and his warm body slowed her raging heart. “We’re going to be okay,” he breathed as they rocked back and forth in the empty house.

---

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[liveshauntedmoved]

Steve let out a soft sigh, not wanting to look at Nancy ; which was probably only furthering her point along. That he was shutting her out ; which ; yeah - he is to an extent. "I don't know what you want from me, what do you want me to tell you?" He doesn't raise his voice, but he still doesn't really look at her - maybe he's just searching for a way out of this conversation, "You are like - the one person who knows the most about me."

liveshaunted​:

❝ don’t  shut  me  out ❞ | @wheelrisms​ | meme [ accepting ]  

                          Shutting people out was Steve’s favourite way to cope ; or well, it was what he new best. It was his only way he knew how to do things. Burdening others with his issues, he couldn’t do that. “I’m not shutting you out,” A lie falling so easily off of his tongue as he looks at Nancy. “What’s there to shut you out on? I’m an open book.” Except he’s not - his childhood is a firm do not talk about it label all over it. Talking about how he feels ; yeah - Steve doesn’t know how to do it, so in turn it ends with him shutting him out.

Lying was something Nancy was able to pick up on from a young age. Having to deal with her parents for so long as well as learning how to lie for her own protection…she knew when someone was hiding something from her. “You’re not though, we both know this Steve.” Her arms crossed in front of her as she stared at him. “So enough with the bullshit and tell me whats going on.”