#and within the last two years that someone is Nancy

[jonathanbyersphd]

You ever think about how despite using some mumbly excuse and already having an exit strategy, the tiniest part of Jonathan hoped Nancy would be on the plane?

[stevie-petey]

but don't you remember? (august, honey, you were mine)

﹂ season four of "come home"

it's senior year and everything has changed. though steve harrington is now your boyfriend, not all of the change has been good. jonathan is gone, dustin is pulling away, the party is divided, and max's sunken eyes remind you of her brother's. all the change threatens to suffocate you. then one phone call, multiple dead bodies, and a song from your past changes everything you thought you once knew. time has never been your friend, especially when it reopens old wounds. (which only complicates things between you and steve). (and the upside down makes everything worse). (as usual).

episode one - the hellfire club: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

episode two - vecnas curse: you and billy play marco polo, max interrupts a saturday morning breakfast at the henderson household, robin crushes steves dream of becoming a 1950s housewife, reefer rick has an odd taste in movies, boathouses are creepy in the dark, and eddie munson likes it when you pull his hair.

episode three - the monster and the superhero: you and steve can never have a normal conversation, dustin threatens nasa, eddie sadly eats his cereal because youre mean to him, youre once again nancys biggest fan, dustin and steve have an awkward heart to heart, and you and max become felons together and trauma bond (again) !

episode four - dear billy: steve almost hits lucas with a lamp, you try to trick your boyfriend into a gloomy arrangement, steve and nancy have a Talk, robin suddenly becomes an academic weapon, and max threatens legal action, gets really into hallmark cards, and levitating. all in that order.

episode five - the nina project: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

episode six - the dive: dustin rejects the pity pringles you offer, eddie is straight up not having a good time, nancy does some investigative journalism about you and steve (gossips with robin), and steve suddenly decides he wants to take up scuba diving. for some reason. but hey ! title drop time !

episode seven - the massacre at hawkins lab: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

⌑ last updated: 11/3/24

⌑ season four title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

���Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

When Robin and Eddie return to the trailer, Steve is still unconscious.

“Fuck, should we be worried that—how long can someone…?”

Eddie trails off, goes to check his watch reflexively before remembering that it’s stopped.

Robin shakes her head.

“This kinda thing happened, um. Before. I didn’t see much, but I… I don’t think… Billy Hargrove was completely—well. Steve had to, like, crash a car into him, and I, uh, sorta blacked out? For a bit of it? But he just walked it off, I think. Eventually. Billy, I mean. Like his body wasn’t fully… Like he didn’t really feel it.”

Eddie stares at her, reeling. A dozen thoughts scramble to be heard, many not helpful in the slightest—namely that Billy Hargrove stalked the basketball court like there was something seething within him every goddamn school day, so he can’t even imagine what that combined with the uncanny strength of The Mind Flayer would bring.

And the real major concern is—

“But Hargrove died.”

Robin looks up from where she’s been checking Steve’s head. Her fingertips are flecked with blood.

“He didn’t die from—he wasn’t killed by. By a person,” she says jerkily. “So we… we should be fine to…” She eyes the cistern lid, but her face drains of colour again.

Eddie exhales. “One problem at a time.”

He grabs Steve underneath the armpits, Robin holding his legs up.

They take him to the bedroom. Set him down, back leaning against the cabinet.

Eddie finds the handcuffs and gingerly attaches one end to a drawer handle, the other around Steve’s wrist.

Steve doesn’t even stir at the touch. His head lolls down unnaturally.

“They better not be the shitty plastic kind,” Robin says. “I’m not having him escape cause all you had was a Baby’s First Magic Set.”

Eddie’s startled into a weak chuckle.

“Excuse you, Buckley, these are the bona fide, genuine article.”

It had become a joke in the first place, actually keeping them. A year ago, maybe two. A girl from Loch Nora with a college boyfriend had either naively or intentionally thrown an open invite party—Eddie had only gone out of curiosity, wanting to see just how impressive the living space was.

He’d barely lasted an hour there, because a shithead of a ‘concerned’ neighbour called the cops on young people ‘loitering sinisterly’—as if their precious hydrangeas were in danger of being uprooted and sold.

Eddie got grouped in with a select lucky few accused of stealing. He hadn’t been, but he figured he might as well try and get something out of it. It was either Callahan’s wallet or his cuffs; Eddie picked the wrong pocket.

Now he thinks he actually lucked out, in a grim kind of way.

They take stock of everything they’ve got: lighter fluid; a couple space heaters discovered in the RV, another one found next to Wayne’s folding bed. A few bottles of alcohol along with cloths and spears. One walkie. Lighters.

Rope.

-

Nancy had left with Dustin in the RV. The plan had been for her to drop him off at the Creel House before returning to the Gate at the trailer.

But Eddie caught the steely glint in her eye as she readied herself in the driver’s seat.

Dustin sat by the table. He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tugged, harsh enough to draw blood. His hand was shaking.

Eddie couldn’t look at him.

He turned to Nancy.

“You’re not coming back,” he said in an undertone.

It was only once he’d spoken that he realised it didn’t come out as a question.

Nancy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Going to another Gate. Where Fred…”

Eddie understood: it was a last-minute change that she alone was in control of. One that Steve didn’t know.

And if Steve didn’t know, then…

The engine rumbled into life.

Eddie got out—had one last look, hand on the door. There were tanks of gasoline wedged behind Nancy’s seat.

Dread chilled him. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be alone. That when she burned it all down, she needed someone to pull her back lest she get caught in the flames, too.

He didn’t say any of that.

Because Nancy just looked at him with something close to sympathy, as if she could tell everything he was thinking; it was already clear that whatever he said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

It didn’t stop him from trying.

“Nancy. Be careful.”

She nodded. “You too.”

Eddie shut the door behind him.

He was halfway back to the porch when he realised that the RV hadn’t pulled away. He heard the door opening again, began to turn, and was almost bowled over by the force of Dustin’s hug.

“Hey,” he said softly, once he’d caught his breath.

He ruffled Dustin’s hair and then stopped near the end of the motion, kept his hand there. Just held him.

He didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Dustin sniffed. He pulled back and finally looked Eddie right in the eye.

“We’ll get him back,” Dustin said.

His voice wavered in the middle. But his determination was much stronger than the falter had been.

Eddie put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. Nodded.

It was obvious that when it came to Steve Harrington, Dustin would go to the ends of the earth for him. And here he was, doing the hardest thing in the world: leaving Steve behind.

Compared to everyone else, Eddie thought, his job was simple, really. All he had to do was prove Dustin’s trust in him.

-

Steve’s face twitches when Robin shuts the window.

Eddie watches closely, holding his breath.

One eye opens, barely a slit. Moves sluggishly before finding Eddie.

“Hi,” Steve says.

He sounds… normal.

“Hi,” Eddie echoes cautiously. “Are you—um. Are you…?”

He trails off, feeling immensely stupid. What was he even gonna ask? Are you okay? Like he honestly was expecting Steve to say, Oh, could be better, but the malevolent entity inside me is a fucking bummer, man.

“How’re you feeling?” he settles on, because Steve still hasn’t moved, at least seems in control, and Eddie’ll take any semblance of normality he can get.

“M’okay,” Steve says, after a pause.

He lifts his head up slightly, notices the handcuffs. Gives a faint nod of approval. With his free hand, he gestures vaguely to the back of his skull.

“Feels… distant. I dunno.”

“Good, uh, that’s good,” Eddie says conversationally, like that will take away the reality of what he’s currently doing: tying Steve’s legs together with rope.

Both of Steve’s eyes open, his gaze turns sharper, calculating, and Eddie tenses—

“Eddie,” Steve drawls. He sounds supremely unimpressed. He shifts his legs and the knot Eddie made goes slack. “Tighter, dude.” “Oh, I’m sorry, not of all of us got our Scout’s badge.”

“Here,” Robin says. She nudges Eddie out of the way and binds Steve’s legs; the knots don’t budge. She gives a half smile. “At least Starcourt was educational.”

Steve laughs through his nose, but he grimaces a bit, like something Robin’s said is distasteful.

She puts a hand on his knee, peers at him. “Still here,” she says.

It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyway. “Still here.”

Robin ties his free hand to another drawer handle.

Eddie catches a glimpse while he’s turning on the heaters, and his stomach twists—unbidden, thinks of Christ on the cross.

Steve nods at the heaters. “Put ‘em closer.”

Eddie does. He keeps waiting for a change, ready to leap back, but it doesn’t come. The only difference is that the pulse point in Steve’s neck starts to jump rapidly when the heaters are tilted towards him, but even that’s nothing like before, nothing like the frenzy in the bathroom.

Eddie puts his palm in front of one of the grilles. It’s only just been turned on, sure, but he can’t help thinking that it’s not nearly strong enough.

He stands in front of Steve, Robin by his side.

No-one moves.

Then Robin speaks out the side of her mouth. “Should you still…?”

Her fingers curl, palm up, and Eddie realises that she’s mimicking fret positions.

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie can answer, and Robin jumps. “Should still work.” His cuffed hand twitches. “S’in… Vecna. Me. Not enough… can’t control bats, too. Not—not all of ‘em at once.”

His throat clicks as he swallows, like the words are getting stuck.

“Should follow. Like… like, um.” His eyes widen for a split second, as if in panic, before he swallows again and says, a little clearer, “Pied Piper.”

Eddie glances between Steve and Robin. “Okay,” he says eventually. He steps back while Robin remains where she is. “I’ll—”

“No,” Steve says, and this time the panic remains; he shakes his head urgently. “Not alone. Don’t—not alone with—with me.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“No,” Steve repeats, and there’s a fierceness to the word—Eddie feels it thrum in his chest, and he somehow knows that it’s not from any unnatural force, that the power is being drawn from Steve alone.

“Buckley,” Eddie says reluctantly.

She squares her shoulders. Takes a step back, eyes never leaving Steve.

Something in Steve unwinds, relaxes. His head droops, almost like he’s falling asleep. A stark vein in his neck pulses.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Robin pauses at the door. Her eyes dart to the heaters, then Eddie.

“Are they…?”

“Highest they’ll go,” Eddie says.

Robin bites her lip.

Eddie knows what she’s thinking: that Nancy said unbearable, and right now barely one corner of the room is being warmed.

“It just takes time to, uh, kick in,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t sound convincing—sounds like he’s free-falling, desperately searching for something to hang onto.

But Robin accepts it, Eddie thinks, because what choice does she have? What choice do any of them have?

“Eddie,” Steve says, just as Robin’s stepped out of the room.

“Yeah?”

Steve wets his lips. Swallows again. It looks painful.

“It’s gonna… make him mad.”

Fear seeps down Eddie’s spine.

“We’ll come back,” he says, because right now, it’s the only promise he can make. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“S’okay,” Steve says. He’s starting to slur his words. “Better this way.”

-

They tumble through the Gate as quickly as they can, then immediately set up the trailer defences.

“We’re lucky this is here,” Eddie says when they’re done, as he picks his electric guitar off the wall, untouched by vines.

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Lucky…”

She abruptly gasps and runs from the room.

Eddie curses, follows her—flinging the guitar across his back.

But there’s nothing in the living room, no bats to fight—just Robin pulling something out from behind Wayne’s bed, laughing with a touch of hysteria.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes, “you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Then he actually processes what he’s looking at. Robin’s brought out a space heater, a bulky kerosene-fuelled one, much larger than what they’d originally rustled up.

“But that—that broke last winter,” Eddie says, bewildered.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just turns it on. The effect is almost immediate compared to what they’ve been working with: the heater glows red-hot, and Eddie already feels the urge to take off his jacket.

“Eddie,” Robin says slowly. “It’s 1983.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Robin turns the heater off, drags it to a point just underneath the Gate.

There’s a couple more treasures they manage to stash away: a match box found on the counter, thrown into a deep cooking pot Robin snatches from a cupboard.

“Oh, you mean business,” Eddie says. “That’s the good pot.”

Robin grins, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache—he knows what they’re doing, forcing smiles to hide their shaking hands.

“And what goddamn atrocity befalls it in the future?”

“That’s between me and God.”

They’re up on the roof, Robin crouched by the amp, when Eddie hears the Walkie crackle.

“Max is—bait’s still been taken,” comes Erica’s staticky voice.

“Uh, copy that,” Eddie says. “Sinclair. Henderson with you?”

A click.

“I’m here,” Dustin says quietly.

Eddie breathes out. “Good. Stick together.”

He sets the walkie down and yanks off his guitar pick. He thinks of Chrissy, her body contorting. Of Patrick, dragged from the water.

Steve’s hands clenched around the sink.

“Showtime, Buckley.”

The noise is explosive. It barely takes a few seconds for the bats to start coming; Eddie watches the horizon as his fingers fly over the strings.

Underneath everything, he can hear Robin counting out bars like she’s in band: One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Prestissimo.

“Eddie, two more bars!”

He nods in acknowledgement. Feels his heart pound as if in time with the music.

“Now!”

They run. The bats circle dumbly round the roof, some clustered onto the still ringing amp, like moths drawn to light.

Pied Piper.

“Go, go, go!” Eddie urges.

It’s tricky getting the heater through, but they manage it between them, an awkward handover across the Gate.

And then Eddie’s falling, landing next to Robin, breathless. They sit up as one, give each other a speechless high five.

Robin moves first. But she stops midway to Eddie’s room—like a reversal of when he was first brought to a standstill, seeing Chrissy’s eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Eddie,” Robin says. “You—you closed the door, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth dry.

He knows that for certain because as he shut the door, his last glimpse was of Steve leaning the back of his head against the cabinet drawers, eyes closed.

Now the door’s ajar.

Eddie strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything.

He feels Robin’s hand dart into his. He squeezes tight before letting go. She picks up the heater. He’s got the cooking pot under his arm.

Together, they open the door.

The space heaters they’d left are broken, cracked down the middle. The handcuffs are dangling from the drawer handle, pried open, the ropes frayed apart—and the whole room is littered with…

Shards of wood. Snapped strings.

Eddie’s guitars. They’re shattered beyond repair, the red of the Warlock mixed with the dark wood of the acoustic.

And there, backed into the far corner, is Steve.

He’s cradling his wrist to his chest—it looks badly broken. Even from here, Eddie can see evidence of splinters embedded in both hands.

But above all, what’s drawing Eddie’s attention is that his shirt is off, revealing the state of his stomach, the bandages shoddily ripped away. The wound is oozing slow, thick trickles of black and red.

Steve doesn’t seem aware that anyone’s entered the room, just mutters indecipherably to himself, hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

Eddie manages to set the pot down silently—takes one hesitant step forward, cringes when he jostles a piece of wood.

Steve’s head jerks up at the sound. He stares at Eddie, a crease in his forehead.

“Who’re you?”

Robin lets out a breath like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“It’s…” Eddie clears his throat. Stays as still as he can. “It’s me, man. It’s Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

More wood scatters across the floor—Robin stepping forward frantically, “Steve, it’s me, it’s—”

Eddie stops her with a touch to the back of her hand.

“Steve,” he says, digs deep to find a calm tone. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw works.

“R… R…”

Robin’s face shatters.

She sets the heater down. Turns it on full blast.

“Robin!” Steve gasps. “Robin, it’s me, I’m still—Robin, Robin, please—”

Robin takes another step—“Careful,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat—and forcibly shoves the heater across the room.

Steve tries to dodge it, but he’s not quick enough; the grille slams against his arm, and Eddie inhales sharply as the skin blisters an angry, weeping red.

Steve’s cries are piercing.

But they reach a peak than taper off into whimpers; he presses himself against the wall, curls his upper body around his blistered arm.

He starts to sob.

They have to get closer to hear, stepping into the circle of heat radiating from the grille, Eddie just behind Robin; sweat pools in the small of his back.

“No, no…”

It’s a dreadful whisper.

They crouch down. Slow.

It doesn’t look like Steve notices: his eyes are shut tight, lashes damp as he continues to plead, “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie can’t blame Robin for what she does next.

It’s instinct—he’d seen it in his peripheral vision at the boathouse, her hand reaching out to comfort, like she couldn’t stop herself.

No, he can’t blame her. Because Steve is hurting, sobbing like his heart is going to break from it, and he’s right there.

Robin’s hand moves forward.

Eddie sees the moment Steve’s eyes open, cold and inhuman, and Christ, for a millisecond too long, he’d forgotten that they had stepped into the ring with a cobra.

“Robin,” Eddie warns, too late, as Steve’s hand seizes her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and it’s almost perfect, almost Steve’s gentle concern, but there’s something off in the inflection, a misplaced note—“I’m not killing you first.”

He twists Robin’s hand.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even try to move, like she’s holding her breath just to stay silent.

“I can…” Steve breathes in and out through his nose. Predatory. “I can feel her.”

“Who?” Robin says.

A vague noise rumbles from Steve’s chest, like he’s searching for a name again.

“N… Nancy,” he says eventually. “She’s dying,” he says, off-hand. “She can’t breathe.”

Eddie reaches behind. Feels carpet beneath his palm. Steve doesn’t track the movement, eyes fixed on Robin.

“She will be like… like her friend. She will know how it feels to die alone.”

Steve grunts, and then…

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound; the skin around Steve’s stomach wound ripples, like there’s something bubbling up underneath, moving, alive, crawling up, up, up—mottled veins spreading, black as tar.

Eddie swallows back bile as his hand finds something solid. Wood.

He feels for the lighter in his pocket.

Steve leans towards Robin, baring his teeth.

“I will—”

Click.

“—consume her.”

The jagged piece of guitar burns in Eddie’s hand.

He throws it.

Sparks fly, land directly in Steve’s eyes, and he yells, lets go of Robin—with such an impact that she’s thrown across the room, landing slumped against the cabinet.

“Robin!”

But Eddie doesn’t have any time to help her, because there’s another click, a crackle, and the walkie comes to life, and it must be on accident because all he can hear is the sound of someone—Dustin and Erica—breathing quickly. Running.

Steve’s eyes narrow.

Eddie thinks of Dustin saying, “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

He tries, desperately, to turn the walkie off, but it suddenly feels like all the air leaves his lungs, and he’s pinned against the wall, Steve’s hand on his chest.

The walkie’s wedged between them. Steve’s somehow using his broken wrist to still Eddie’s hand, to keep the walkie turned on.

Eddie has no choice but to listen to what comes through the static.

It’s chaos. Heavy, frantic breathing; it’s like he can feel the kids clutching their sides as they run. In the distance, a car, the engine stopping. A door opens.

Jason Carver’s voice. “Did you see them?”

Behind Steve, Eddie spots Robin stirring.

Steve keeps staring down at the walkie.

An abrupt cry of pain, and another voice curses, says, “Shit, Jason, I think it’s broken.”

“El?” Dustin breathes.

Something in Steve’s face flickers, but Eddie’s too terrified to know what it means—tries and fails to turn the walkie off again, but he doesn’t even know what’s the right thing to do anymore. He just wants them to be okay, he just wants—

“Jason, no-one’s fucking there. You—you can’t even stand, I’m taking you to the hosp—”

A car door slamming shut. An engine starting up, fading…

Gone.

Dustin and Erica exhale shakily. Running again, footsteps pounding up the stairs, across floorboards…

The walkie cuts off.

Steve grits his teeth.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

Robin’s up, moving so quietly—scooping the remnants of his guitars into the pot.

Another crackle.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice again, up close. “Max is—the music’s not working! I—I don’t know what to—”

There it is again: that flicker across Steve’s face. A ripple in a lake.

“Max,” he says.

The name cracks with emotion, and although his voice has been used before, an uncanny imitation, Eddie knows this is different, feels it in his gut; it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

The snick of a match being struck.

Steve’s head tilts ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around. Like he already knows Robin is right behind him.

Instead—

Steve pries the walkie out of Eddie’s hand. Presses down on the button. Inhales.

“Run.”

The walkie drops with a clatter. Behind them, the fierce roar of flames; Eddie’s face stings.

He can feel Steve’s grip on him loosening, feels himself sliding down the wall.

Steve’s eyes bore into his—and although dark veins have spread across the whites, like spider webs, Eddie can still see the slightest gleam of something real in them.

Something human.

Steve’s lips move, cracked and bleeding.

Now, he mouths.

“Robin!” Eddie yells.

Steve lets him go, and Eddie sees a flash of Robin throwing the entire contents of the pot over Steve, raining fire upon him; Eddie covers his face from the scorching heat, scrambling to get away, relying on touch alone, and his hand hits something, the crunch of plastic, fuck, the walkie—

He’s by the doorway, gasping for breath.

Awareness comes in stages: the fire’s gone out, charred remains of the guitars on the ground where Steve once stood; Robin’s there, her hands red raw, and she’s looking at something, what’s she…?

Steve.

Steve dragging himself across the floor, his broken wrist pressed against his stomach. Crawling to sit next to the space heater, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Breathing.

Just breathing.

Then, so faintly, Eddie almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“Railroad… Snow Ball… Muppet.”

Steve thumps the back of his head against the wall with each word.

Robin goes to him.

Eddie can only watch. He feels like he’s staring at a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Despite everything, Robin reaches out with her hand again. She touches Steve’s knee gently, and Steve falls silent, stops hitting his head.

Robin smiles, tearful.

“You’ve—you’ve changed that song for me forever,” she says, choked up, and although Eddie can’t really understand, he senses the heart in it, the echoes of their story, of their love hitting him square in the chest.

“Do you remember,” Robin goes on, laughing through it, “the first time we were closing, and you—you got that whole bag of chocolate chips? Tore the corner and just, like, scarfed it. You looked like a chipmunk. It was—it was so gross. And you just said let’s see you do better, then. So we just kept eating them, and we had to pretend we had, like, a whole week where every order had chocolate chips just so we could get another shipment. You… you made me feel like I was five years old. That’s—that’s when I knew.” Robin takes a shuddering breath. Keeps smiling. “Right there. I wanted to be your friend.”

Steve just looks at her. He blinks, and a tear falls down his face, and Eddie can see it, like the sun briefly appearing through storm clouds, can see more of him breaking through, and for a moment, just a moment, there could be a chance, please, please…

Steve’s stomach spasms, and he groans, inhales short and sharp, twists away from Robin’s touch; the litany starts again, fever-slurred.

Eddie rediscovers the walkie. There’s cracks all through the plastic—it might not even work.

But Steve keens, pressing, pressing as blood flows through his fingers, as he trips up on the words, almost insensible now, and Eddie knows he has to take the risk.

His thumb pushes the button.

“Dustin,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me where you are. But if you’re—if you’re safe. Christ, please say you’re… Steve, he—he needs you.”

Silence.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“—safe. We’re all safe. I copy.”

Eddie thinks he laughs or something close to it. Maybe something else, too. He presses his forehead against the walkie. A benediction answered.

“Eddie?” Dustin says, and his speech keeps crackling, keeps threatening to cut out, but he’s there, he’s there.

Steve blinks, turns towards the sound of Dustin’s voice.

But Eddie’s not afraid this time.

“Railroad,” Steve repeats. Soft yet intentional, like he means it with everything he has left. “Railroad.”

Eddie passes the word on to Dustin. Waits.

Dustin takes a little while to figure it out—or maybe he solves it almost instantly, but here, time moves slow: just Robin and Eddie holding their breath, Steve only mouthing the words now. Barely there.

Dustin must push his button down mid-gasp, the words rushing out.

“That’s how we—that’s when everything—”

What follows is a garbled speech Eddie can barely make sense of, as static obscures every third word or so: about the junkyard and demodogs, and tunnels, and…

“D-different details, Henderson,” Eddie says with a choked laugh.

Fondness wells up; for a second it had felt like he was listening to Dustin in the middle of a campaign, on a tangent, and Eddie knows he just has to nudge him down the right path and then he’ll work it out, because the kid’s a goddamn genius.

“Stuff he can feel,” Eddie tries.

Steve looks at him, unblinking, and God he’s still in there, Eddie thinks, there’s so many thoughts, so much of him trapped beneath the surface.

So Dustin talks about Queen playing in Steve’s car, of how the fall leaves looked as they walked, of his shoelaces coming loose, and Steve getting down on his knees in exaggerated exasperation, you’re gonna fall flat on your face, dickhead, we’ve got enough going on.

Eddie takes the thread he’s been given, adds embellishments where he can—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the steady clunk of walking on the tracks, Dustin sometimes hurrying a little, just to match Steve’s stride—and as Steve finally blinks slowly, Eddie prays.

Can you feel it? Please go there. Go somewhere safe. Go somewhere it can’t find you. “What—what else did he say?” Robin says, when Steve lips stops moving, and his eyes close; he looks so tired. “Snow Ball?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Eddie pushes the walkie button again, so Dustin can hear. “Didn’t the Middle School have something… Did you do anything for it? Like put up decorations or…?”

Robin shakes her head.

Eddie furiously racks his brains for one detail, anything—curses himself for not paying attention, for shirking the ‘volunteering’ he was forced to do that December in lieu of detention; for viewing it all with a petty indifference, when for others, it must’ve meant so—

He releases the button.

“Did you say Snow Ball?” Dustin asks, before he launches into Steve shielding his eyes from hairspray, of the forest green gift bag his mom had passed into Steve’s hands, of Steve’s surprise, his shy smile—and then it’s Erica who takes over, calling over somewhere, “Lucas, remember when we came to pick you up?”

And the Sinclairs had stayed much longer than expected because Max’s folks were late in collecting her; and when Steve came to pick up Dustin, he’d noticed and stayed, too.

“He didn’t make a big thing of it,” Max says quietly, somewhere distant; Lucas adds that Steve opened up all his car doors so the tape he was playing could be heard: The Carpenters, some Christmas medley.

“He danced with Max,” Lucas says. “We were betting on how many times he could spin her in a row.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Eddie can hear Max’s eye roll. Her smile.

“And,” Erica says, “he actually enjoyed dad’s small talk. Like, he was fully hooked on mom and Uncle Jack’s gift wrapping contest.”

Eddie smiles, covers his mouth just in case a traitorous noise slips out. The kids sound happy, and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

Steve’s eyes shine, almost like he’s thinking the same thing.

Sorry, he mouths. I’m sorry.

The walkie dies.

Steve groans again, pushing down on his stomach wound. He’s trying to hide it from view, Eddie realises.

Robin keeps reaching for him. “Steve, don’t—let me help. Please.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t—can’t hold it back.” His voice is rasping.

“I saw you,” Eddie says, and Robin glances at him. “Last year. At school.”

The memory comes to him all at once, sparked by the kids and the thought of Steve chatting in a parking lot, so at ease.

“I was pissed ‘cause I’d just flunked—doesn’t matter. Was walking it off outside, and you turned into the parking lot, windows down, and you looked so fucking pleased with yourself cause you’d already passed everything. You must’ve had a free period, maybe a double, I dunno. I was,” Eddie huffs self-deprecatingly, “jealous.”

Steve’s head slumps against the wall. His chest rises and falls rapidly, laden with sweat. Eddie tries not to look at the marks—where the burning pieces of wood struck his skin.

Steve’s eyes find his. One long blink.

Keep going.

“You—you were wearing these sunglasses,” Eddie says, and Robin sobs, laughs, like she knows exactly the pair he means. “And you—the radio was on, but I—I can’t remember what was—anyway, you were kinda. Singing. Or, like, humming to yourself. And you were walking to the middle school, you kept throwing your keys in the air. You caught ‘em every damn time.” Eddie chuckles. “Do you know how annoying that was? And I—I just kept watching, ‘till the bell rang, and I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why you looked so… so happy. But I—” Eddie swallows. “I know now.”

Steve’s mouth tilts, not quite a smile—he’s trying, he’s trying.

“You were gonna go see the kids, huh?” Eddie says. “Surprise them or something, I don’t know. You can tell me later. Promise me? And you—” His voice threatens to go, but he pushes through it, because if there’s one thing Steve needs to hear, it’s this.

Just this.

“You were happy. Because you loved them,” Eddie whispers. “And they loved you.”

Steve breathes in.

And he rises up so suddenly that Robin falls back in alarm. He hits the space heater as he goes, and while it still blisters his skin, he doesn’t cringe away, more deliberately leans into it—

“Quick,” Steve mutters. “He’s mad, he’s mad, we don’t have much—”

And he lies down directly on the bed frame, his stomach still oozing that viscous black and red; Eddie’s stomach drops.

He feels strange, like his body already knows what’s coming before his mind’s caught up.

“Quick, quick—”

The smash of a bottle as Steve fumbles it, spilling alcohol on the floor—he tries again, reaches for lighter fluid and douses the whole bed frame in it.

“Robin,” he says, “Robin, please.”

She’s watching Steve’s every move with wide eyes; Eddie just looks on helplessly.

Fucking move.

“Robin!”

“Steve, I—” She shakes her head, uncomprehending—more like she doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—”

Steve doubles over, picks something off the floor. Eddie’s distracted—stupid, stupid—watching in horror as more black veins spread up, across Steve’s shoulders, the strained muscles in his neck, and too late, he realises that Steve’s holding a lighter in his hand.

Click.

Steve drops it.

Sets the wooden slats ablaze.

He cries out, back arching—the flames lick higher, higher, and Robin’s screaming Steve’s name, running to him, like she can pull him from the flames…

There’s something else in Steve’s hand.

Robin’s trapped where she’s stood, a broken piece of glass to her neck—and Steve’s struggling against it, but his hand doesn’t move, as beads of blood dot Robin’s skin—

Eddie doesn’t know when it happened. Just knows that he’s holding a spear, and it’s on fire too, flames creeping up…

“Eddie!” Steve says. “Finish it!”

His skin writhes, contorting; Eddie thinks of Chrissy again, of Patrick—and a faint memory of Will Byers, vanishing without a trace.

It was you, Eddie thinks numbly. It was all you.

The glass presses closer still against Robin’s neck. She gasps—

And Steve begs.

“Kill me!”

The stomach wound heaves like a living creature, gaping and monstrous.

“Give him back, you son of a bitch,” Eddie breathes.

He lunges forward.

With all his strength, he digs the spear straight into Steve’s stomach; the flames surge, engulf—

Steve screams.

A black mass pours out of his mouth, and Eddie thinks he’s screaming, too, but he can’t hear anything, can’t hear anything but Steve, the torture in his voice, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and the mass hits him; he flies through the air, feels his head smack against something solid.

Then nothing.

He comes to in the living room. Blood dampens the back of his head.

Sits up. Blinks dazedly at the ceiling. The Gate… the Gate’s gone.

Bedroom. Has to… Steve, Robin. Bedroom.

He shoves himself up, wobbles. Forces himself on.

He knows he’s lost time when he nears the room: a chill hits him from the broken window, and the flames have been put out.

Robin. Robin kneeling by the bed, burns all up her arms.

“—open your eyes,” she’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t fully register who she’s talking to. If he does, he’ll freeze, useless. He will never forgive himself.

“Band lungs, Buckley,” he croaks, and then he falls beside her.

Starts compressions.

You’re not going, you’re not going. You’ve got so many people to see again. No. You’re not going.

He tries just to count out loud, but even as he’s doing it, something crumbles, something breaks apart irreparably inside of him, “Don’t you dare leave, don’t you…”

Robin. Two breaths.

“I wanna talk to you, Steve Harrington, and you’re gonna fucking be there to listen, do you understand, do you…”

He loses track of what he’s saying completely, lost to wilder and wilder promises, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this, except the desperate push of his hands, the crack of Steve’s ribs, Robin’s long breaths; and God, Eddie would give anything, anything at all, would tear his fucking heart out if it would help, if it meant that Steve would—

“—just breathe!”

Something jolts underneath his fingers; for a moment, it destroys him: it’s back, it’s—

“That’s it,” Robin’s saying, “there, there, that’s—”

Eddie’s head sinks down to his knees.

Wretched coughs. Gasping.

“He can’t—Eddie, he can’t breathe.”

Eddie staggers over to the window. Makes the hole bigger, again and again. Glass slices through his palms.

“That’s better, huh?” Robin’s murmuring, and Eddie can’t look at her, can’t look at who’s in her arms; if he does, the proof will shatter, and that can’t… he has to…

The phone rings.

Eddie goes to it. His arm lifts, heavy and delayed. Like he’s in a dream.

On the other end, a terrified voice.

Mike. Mike Wheeler crying.

“Did it work?”

“I—” There’s a high-pitched ringing in Eddie’s ears; he shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“I-is Nancy there? Where’s Nancy?”

And there’s that gut feeling again, the one that pulled Eddie out of the RV in the first place; “Hang on,” he says to Mike, and he lets the phone fall, pushes the front door open to stand on the porch, breathing in shallow, frigid breaths.

There’s something coming out from behind the trees.

Closer and closer, and Eddie almost assumes the worst.

But it’s Nancy. There’s ash in her hair, and she’s drenched, coated in black sludge; her teeth flash as she smiles, a pocket knife gleaming in her hand.

“I made my own Gate,” she says.

Barely missing a beat, she tilts her head to the side to throw up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, spreads more thick tar across her face.

Underneath everything, there’s a scarlet ring around her throat.

“Your brother,” is all Eddie can get out.

Her eyes blaze white-hot.

“Mike,” she says, clutching the phone so tightly, like she would do the very same if she could hold his hand. “It’s gone, it’s all gone.” And then, louder, louder, trembling, “And whoever’s fucking listening on here, get us help. I know you’re there. I won’t stop. I won’t—”

Eddie knows she says more. She must do.

But he can’t stop staring down at his hands. At the blood.

He steps forward—almost sways, and Nancy catches his wrist.

“Don’t go outside without me. Don’t talk to anyone apart from us, Eddie. Okay? They won’t touch you. I won’t let them.”

Eddie thinks he manages a nod. He believes her. Her jaw quivers, but her head’s held up high: if a gun was pressed to her head, he knows the bullet wouldn’t take.

The phone call continues, but the sound is muffled, underwater.

Eddie comes back to himself in the bedroom doorway.

Robin’s still by the bed.

Steve’s lying there, eyes closed. His stomach’s still bleeding, slow, slow, but the veins have gone, they’ve…

“Eddie.” Robin reaches out a hand to him. “Come on. You… you can feel him breathing from here.”

Why don’t you hate me?

He should leave. He should leave.

He doesn’t deserve…

But Robin keeps reaching, and Eddie’s on his knees next to her, a coward, you’re a fucking coward.

“Here,” Robin says.

She guides Eddie’s hand. Places it on Steve’s sternum, above the awful wound, above all the pain Eddie caused—

There. A rise and fall.

Just breathing.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“I thought—” He shudders. “I thought I’d—”

Robin must sense it before he does, before he even really knows it’s happening.

“You’re okay,” she says, and she pulls him into her embrace—keeps one hand on Steve as she does.

Good, Eddie thinks. He needs to know you’re there. He shouldn’t be alone.

He turns his face into Robin’s shoulder, and weeps.

[g-xix]

SIDEMEN RANKING: Which of the Sidemen would make the best boyfriend?

ik this was a tag challenge for Beta Squad last year but I thought I'd do this for the Sidemen... Gonna tag @w2soneshots @xxkatxgracexx @chemreacti0n, @anaaye7 and @inevesgf to do this next w their own opinions... but really anyone who sees this can, if you want :)

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7. Tobi -Just such hard red flag vibes i cannot LIE -Sure he's a pretty face n hot n all that... -But the boys always say he's really secretive + ppl never know where he is half the time... Instantly a bit red flaggy -And then also i feel like he'd be one of those hypocritical bf's that want a woman who's completely virginal and saintly, regardless of whether he has been his entire life. 🤐

6. Harry -I said it'd be realistic and im not gna pander to the w2s girlies this time when i dont think it's true to reality 👿 -Because Harry is very much a spontaneous personality -And as a couple, or being in a relationship - it's very much sorta based in working around being partners, atl when it gets more serious -But I feel like Harry's one of them personas that gets motivation to do things very sporadically, and that just means he struggles matching to other people and working around a schedule that agrees with someone else's -And in those unmotivated phases he gets, I fear he would be so negative nancy-ish, like, wouldn't be inspiring anything within you, very demotivating to yourself... Not really a fun person to do things with or be around. Let alone date

5. Ethan -Tbf i have to respect it bc he's had a long term partner now and he's fully living w Faith n has little baby Olive, too... Very respectable, realistic, reliable. -...But. -We've all seen the Growing Paynes podcast clip where him and Faith argue about the fact that Ethan's not gna propose until Faith agrees to take his second name and drop her family surname. -So we know that he wouldn't be able to compromise. -And from SDMN sunday's, we already know he's quite stubborn. -Although, that being said - there's definitely a lot of good that comes with Ethan, iven if he doesn't carry all of the forwards thinking views -Like, he's a very familiy oriented man - which i generally don't like - but the clip that jumps out to me is seeing him tear up on the pod saying about how he gets upset and he doesn't like seeing Faith and Olive getting shittalked by fans. -The genuineness and honesty and raw emotion of that one actually got me respecting Ethan quite a bit. -Also j because he's very in touch with mental health and physical health bc of his fitness journey, I do feel like he would be a very reliable and motivating partner which is quite good from him. Bosh.

4. JJ and Vik, tied for this spot. -They both have equal number of "yeah that's quite good"s and "oh that's not-!"s -Like, one thing that contrasts these two are emotional intellect. -Because JJ I feel like is highly in touch with his emotional side - like, he's had therapy and ik his current gf is a therapist - he definitely understands emotions and would be really uplifting and helpful in times whereby emotionally you're not doing the best and need someone to be a listener or just generally be there for you. -Vik on the other hand...? I feel like Vik has the mindset of a corporate business, in the fact that emotions are really hard for him to register and deal with appropriately sometimes. -Like, i mentioned this on the Crying HC's, Vik is deffo sorta made uncomfortable or rendered a little bit shocked and helpless when confronted with big displays of emotions bc he just doesn't know how to respond n deal with them. -One issue with both of them I can pick up asw, is the fact that they'd be always travelling and busy with their work: JJ with Prime, Misfits and music tours - Vik with business and music, too... Definitely makes the relationship a bit hard when during 8 days of the week, these guys are everywhere but home with you -BUT! It is very worth mentioning that these guys have both had long term relationships which don't just appear out of nowhere. -Vik is so respectful of his wife which I have sm respect for - their wedding was beautiful + even in the SDMN roast when a joke was made about her that felt a bit disrespectful, Vik didn't laugh at it - he fully kept a straight face out of respect for her which I lowkey highkey respect, because it takes balls not to follow the crowd n laugh at that sorta thing when everyone else is -And I mean, JJ also has been dating his gf for like, 7 maybe 8 years??? I don't remember what he said in his vid... But again, clearly shows a lot of commitment to the relationship which I respect! -Only con exclusive to JJ which I can think of, is that he's kinda misogynistic which would 100% reflect in a relationship which is annoying... Liiiiike, all his try not to laughs and content atm just feels very misogyny fuelled and has rly put me off of his JJ Olatunji channel, unfortunately. -But I think overall - JJ and Vik are both relatively equal in terms of who would be better/worse to date

2. Joshuaaaa! -I reckon Josh isn't the most entertaining or handsome or funny or cool or young or funny or young of the lot -... -But I reckon he'd be a great boyfriend -I mean - reoccurring theme - but he's been in a relationship with Freya for 13+ flipping years, if you've voluntarily kept someone with you for that long, something about you has gotta be good. -And he's definitely one of the more/most chill of the boys like, I feel a lot of the other boys are more sorta guarded or sensitive about their partner... But Josh is 100% Freya's hypeman, and the same for Freya to Josh -Like, Josh as a partner would be the most easy life ever - bro always has everything planned and under control CONSTANTLY, never a day of stress with him -Just yes.

Simon miniMINTER -(idk why formatting has switched up on me at the last minute) -But honestly this guy is so much more mature than the rest of the Sidemen it's both lowking shocking and so satisfying to watch -And again, for the final time: Has had a partner for nearly/maybe even 8 years - he deffo just gets it. -Understands compromise, and even in the vlogs with Talia - you can just tell he's become so much less stubborn and accommodating in his life as he's grown and gotten married and wisened up -Speaking of Talia: He's genuinely her biggest supporter. I rmbr watching her music vid Bored, and she was getting loads of hate for it at the time - but Simon was supporting thru n thru on insta, youtube, her lives.... I love that sm for him, he's so gf-oriented, which we love to see. -And also omds he's aging like fiiiiiine wine -Bc the beard and hair atm? Omds pictures from SoccerAid had me lowkey sweating over this GUYYY -And ik that he keeps his relationship off camera quite a bit - but i feel like that is once again a show of maturity from just knowing (having done YouTube for so long) that he wants to keep work and life separate -Which also shows a lot of healthy mindset n thinking which is why I think that yah, Simon is just like, top tier bf material -Scores 100% in looks, likeability and everything else possible

[fastlikealambo]

national anthem:older!steve x black fem!reader

summary: steve harrington is running for president of the united states as the democratic nominee. he's polling well, people like him because he actually intends to keep his campaign promises, he's got great hair and a cute dog.

there's one problem: he doesn't do relationships, he's been seen doing the walk of shame too many times and his campaign manager has had enough. he needs a wife, or a least someone to smile and wave his messy ass through election season before disappearing into obscurity.

that's where you come in.

you're a sweet virgin kindergarten teacher who looks like disney animated birds help you get dressed in the morning. on paper you're perfect for the job and you have student loan and medical debt so you will silk press and laugh your way to the democratic national convention.

here's the thing:

you can't stand his pompous ass and he gets all tongue tied and sweaty when he gets within 2 feet of you.

it's gonna be a long fucking campaign.

bonus: here's two songs that are the background music in this chapter. can you figure out which song goes with what scene? I'd love to know your guesses.

angel - halle bailey

death of me - pvris

chapter one: washington, d.c.

“They’re calling you The Future Slut in Chief, Steve.”

Erica threw a paper in Steve’s lap, pinching the bridge of her nose before sinking into a chair to drink her iced coffee,  the only thing to keep her from reaching across the table and throttling the future President of The United States.

Steve looked down at The New York Post, a picture of him in his boxers leaving someone’s apartment dead center. He shrugged, putting his feet on the table and leaning back in his chair. 

“I look great and besides it’s the New York Post, nobody reads The New York Post, Sinclair. After the speech today no one will give two shits about that, nothing to worry about.” He said, shoving his sunglasses back on his face to block out the fluorescent lighting.

Four more newspapers with nearly identical pictures knocked the sunglasses right off his face and the forty year old nearly fell out of his chair.

“You can’t throw things at me, that’s treason.”

“Not yet.” Erica said sweetly.

“They’re making fancams of you and I quote, ‘ your slutty little waist.” Holly Wheeler said, Erica’s assistant said with a giggle, showing her boss her phone, the same bridge of some Cardi B. song filling the conference room over and over again.

“Send me that to me, won’t you Holly?” Steve said, reaching for his coffee.

“Do not send that to him Holly.” Erica sighed, pushing Steve’s legs off the table before standing up.

“Look Harrington, I joined this campaign because I believed in you. You had feasible ideas, a moral compass, the hair of a Kennedy and so much money I sometimes want to call the IRS for fun.”

“What was that last one-

“Never mind that. Everything about you screams all american but because you don’t have a partner or spouse,  to the general public it also screams ‘I may or may not have people in my basement.’ Nobody likes a single male president.”

“James Buchanan never married.” Steve grumbled.

 Steve Harrington didn’t do relationships, he had his fun every night, came home to his dog and empty apartment and focused on doing some good in his community with the outrageous inheritance his father left him. 

 There was no time for wives or husbands and that’s exactly how he liked it. 

“James Buchanan thought a dime was enough money to live on so maybe not the best example. Steve, you have a chance to be the next leader of this country but doing the walk of shame at your prehistoric age is not going to get the votes you need.”

Erica was absolutely right but Steve would be damned if he said so.

 “You need someone at your side for the last leg of the campaign and I’ve taken care of it. She’s been checked out and briefed, you’ll meet her on stage tonight when you introduce her, I’ve had Nancy edit your speech.”

“What the fuck Erica!” Steve yelled but Erica ignored him.

“She’s smarter than you, beautiful, and most importantly, she’s likable. So if you want to sit in the Oval Office for the next four years, you’ll wear the Tom Ford suit and act like this is the greatest love story ever told. You don’t have to talk to her outside of events if you don’t want to but you will do this. I have yet to fail you so trust that I can do the job you pay me handsomely for. Got it?”

No.

Absolutely not.

There was no way he was going through with this.

“To wrap up my speech so we can all get home safely, I want to introduce you to someone. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to this campaign, to this country! I’m so proud to finally introduce my fiancée, let’s give her a big hand!” Steve said with a big smile at the cheering crowd, proud of the fact that he didn’t immediately vomit when the word fiancée came out of his mouth.

The click-clack of your heels coming up a staircase had Steve’s heart in his throat. At some point his clapping was no longer forced as he waited for the worst blind date of his life to appear on stage. 

“Get it together Harrington, turn on the charm for two minutes and get the fuck out of here.” He thought to himself.

He could handle this.

Two seconds later, he was wrong.

So, very, wrong.

If there were words to truly describe how beautiful you were, Steve did not know them. 

How could he?

How would ecstasy describe ecstasy?

Fuck.

Like Erica drilled into him a thousand times before the DC rally began, he reached out his hand to you, now enveloped in the scent of orchids and shea butter, and brought you into his arms for the world’s gentlest and fastest embrace. Your lips met with Steve’s cheek with a sweet laugh that made the crowd go wild as you pushed him forward towards the mic.

But no words came out.

That man was so busy looking at you he didn’t know the closing to his speech, the stump speech he had been giving for months now, the one he could recite in his sleep and accidentally yelled out during sex that one time.

A full ten seconds of uncomfortable silence with a sweaty man had you suddenly in front of the mic.

“I’m so happy to be a part of this once in a lifetime event supporting Steve! We’ve got a lot of work to do to get to the ballot box but we are ready to elevate and encourage our beautiful country towards a brighter future! Good night everyone, drive safe!” You nearly yelled into the mic, applause bursting through the audience.

You were quickly ushered backstage away from journalists, happy to get out as just as quickly as possible but Steve followed right with you.

“I-I had that back there!” Your fiance and future president choked out.

“Oh, so you can talk, wonderful! A thank you for saving your ass or a nice to meet you would suffice. I didn’t know a presidential nominee much less an adult man could drool like an infant but you’re full of surprises Mr. Harrington.” You said, rolling your eyes. 

“I was not drooling!”

“My shoulder’s all wet Mr. President.  Are we done here, can I go now?” You asked, turning your attention to Erica.

“I’m so glad you two are getting along! One more picture for all the socials and then you are free to go, Hopper and your security detail will make sure you get to your hotel safely.” Erica said, grabbing her phone for the picture.

“Big smiles, you two!”

You still couldn’t get over the fact that 24 hours ago, you were crying yourself to sleep wondering how you were going to pay your bills and get back on your insurance and now you’re prom posing with America’s Next Top Leader.

“I couldn’t have possibly drooled on you, you wanna know why?” Steve said through a frozen smile.

“Not really.”

“If I got the next First Lady of The United States all wet, you’d know, honey.” He whispered in your ear. 

Motherfucker.

Next stop: Maryland! I hope you enjoyed this, I’m not too sure if it's any good :)

[beep-beep-robin]

nancy had a tell.

she didn‘t know it, but she definitely did. eddie‘d been noticing it for a while now.

see, he trusted steve, he knew him well enough by now to know that he would never intentionally hurt eddie. but eddie wasn‘t the most trusting person, scarred by years of always being put last by his parents, being pushed to the side by hookups as "just an experiment" when their girlfriends came back around, having friends stab him in the back when they found out "what he was". so it was no surprise that he was a bit uncomfortable with steve‘s friendship with nancy, his ex.

steve, bless him, of course tried his best to reassure eddie. he knew about his past experiences, and took every opportunity to show him that this was not going to be another one of those.

when they hung out with the others and nancy was there, steve tugged eddie a bit closer and held his hand, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. if someone brought up steve and nancy‘s history offhandedly, steve filled eddie in on details so he didn‘t feel like he was being kept out of the loop and missing out on something that steve and nancy were reminiscing about. he kept him close, always, showing eddie he wasn‘t afraid to be with him in front of their friends.

still, eddie watched. he watched the way steve looked at nancy, the way nancy looked at him. and then the way nancy looked at the others. all that watching made him pick up on her little tell.

he was almost zoning out one time the older teens were all hanging out together, steve‘s arm thrown around his shoulder, playing with the hem of his shirt sleeve. nancy was sitting in the chair next to the couch where steve and eddie were cuddled up, robin on the floor next to nancy. jonathan and argyle had left their spots on the floor to retrieve some weed from argyles "secret hiding place", as he liked to call it.

steve and robin were in the midst of a discussion about something that had happened at scoops, when robin made the worst pun. and then it happened.

within a second, nancys face went from her resting somewhat-a-smile-but-also-pretty-intimidating face to a full on smile, accompanied by an eye roll. and she giggled. she honest to god giggled. eddie had never heard nancy wheeler giggle before. but she giggled at robins horrendous pun. even robin was surprised it seemed, a faint blush making it‘s way onto her cheeks after sneaking a glance at nancy.

that was enough to make eddie keep watching over the following weeks. nancy did giggle quite often, it seemed, but only in the presence of robin. and apparently the giggles came with the eye roll as a package deal.

another bad pun? nancy giggled. fond eye roll. robin blushed.

robin went on a rant about how, listen, we don‘t know for sure that elvis wasn‘t abducted by aliens. giggle. eye roll. blush.

robin brushed nancys hair away from her face in a moment of acting-before-thinking? giggle, eye roll - giggle? an even deeper blush.

oh eddie was SO not letting that pass without getting any info on it. so he talked to nancy, during a rare moment in which the two of them were left alone, the others all gone to either pick up the kids from somewhere, go home altogether, or get some food.

he was careful, not wanting to overstep, trying not to send nancy into a crisis she wasn‘t ready for yet, especially by her ex‘s new boyfriend. but he’d underestimated her, of course nancy-i-plan-everything-wheeler was already ahead of him. and apparently she was glad he’d brought it up, finally having someone to talk to about her (as eddie then explained it to her) glaringly obvious crush on their favorite lesbian.

so eddie kept watching. and nancy kept giggling. and robin kept blushing. and giggles turned into hands brushing against hands, blushes turned into heads leaning on shoulders, and tells turned into actions.

and the next time eddie and nancy met for coffee to chat about nancys crush, they were actually meeting up talk about her girlfriend.

[vivalas-vega]

Hey! Could I request a Hangman x Reader, where she is childhood best friends with hangman (they have feelings for each other) and also part of the dagger squad and she finds out her bf was cheating on her so her and Phenix (the readers bestie) get drunk and are on the bar singing Before He Cheats and the dagger squad and jake just think they are having fun and bob is like ‘oh no they actually did that to his car’? And Jake is just kinda proud and then they end up getting together?? Angst with Fluff? Sorry it is a long request!

this request actually made me lol - I am partial to a good Before He Cheats moment (I actually just a few days ago had my own moment in a bar with this song however it wasn't nearly as cool it was just drunk screaming at my friends who were not as invested in the song as I wanted them to be) I hope I did this request justice for you nonnie!!!

add yourself to my taglist

The air in the bar was balmy and doing nothing to help with the flush settling over your skin as alcohol coursed through your veins. As you sat off to the side nursing your beer you couldn’t help but let your mind wander and drift over the events of the past few hours… There’s no shock quite like walking in on your boyfriend and his assistant in your own bed but you weren’t shocked, you were actually kind of relieved... but the relief only lasted for a few moments before anger took over and soon you were calling Phoenix and doing something the two of you would probably have to take to your graves. Sitting here in the bar watching your friends and giving them reassuring smiles every time they fretted over you brought that feeling of calmness back, the feeling that you had dodged a bullet and been given a shiny get out of jail free card you’d honestly been hoping and praying for. 

You didn’t want Thomas, he was merely a stopgap… someone to keep the other side of your bed warm and distract you from the crushing weight of affection you held for your best friend. The best friend you’d known since diapers, who grew up with you and talked you into following the same career path, the best friend who flirted with you endlessly but never let it go any further… the best friend who was sliding up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist as you sat perched on a bar stool near the pool table.

“How are you feeling, angel?” he asked, looking down at you like you were the only person in this bar and as he started absentmindedly drawing patterns into the exposed skin of your hip you really wished he would keep his hands to himself and take those stupid green eyes and intoxicating cologne to the other side of the bar. He had his own ideas about Thomas… ideas that consisted of thinking he shouldn’t exist, and he surely shouldn’t exist within a ten mile radius of you. He simply wasn’t good enough and he wasn’t alone in that notion though his opinion was certainly the strongest… however, it didn’t really matter who it was, no one was good enough for you as far as he was concerned.

“I’m good, Jake,” you responded just as Rooster approached and shoved a shot of whiskey into your hand.

“Come on, drink up,” he ordered, raising his own to cheers with you.

“This is called peer pressure, Roo, and Nancy Reagan taught me better,” you protested and chuckled as he shot you a glare.

“Shut up and drink,” he said and you sighed, clinking your glass to his and throwing it back. It burned your throat and you immediately felt the warmth radiate throughout your chest as Jake reached out to shove Rooster’s shoulder.

“Stop trying to get her drunk, man,” he sighed, “I’m going to go get you water,” he said and you wrapped your hand around his, keeping him in place.

“I’m fine, Jake. We’re not five years old on the playground anymore, you don’t have to take care of me.”

“I’m always going to take care of you.” he responded in the way he always did that told you that was that, no further discussion. “Don’t let Chicken brainwash you into thinking this is how you handle a breakup.”

“It is how you handle a breakup. Get so drunk you forget the pain, puke it all out tomorrow and then go about your life,” Rooster replied as if he was giving life altering advice. Jake shoved him away again, not stopping until he took the hint and busied himself elsewhere before returning his attention solely to you.

“Are you sure you’re good? You’re eerily calm considering what happened…” he said, and he wasn’t wrong. You’d strolled into the bar hand-in-hand with Phoenix and dropped the news of your cheating boyfriend like it was the weather report as you ordered from Penny… who tried to give it to you on the house before your glare had her ringing it up full price.

“I mean… was it an asshole move? Sure, but I’m fine, and he got what he deserved,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip of your beer.

“What does that mean?” he asked and you decided to play up how drunk you were, looking back to him with blank eyes.

“What does what mean?” you responded and he just chuckled, plucking the drink from your hands.

“Okay, you’re cut off for the moment.” he said, setting the drink at a nearby table. He wrapped an arm around you again and you leaned into him, enjoying the comfort as your eyes fluttered closed but they were open again in an instant and you were twisting in his grasp trying to lock eyes with Phoenix as the sound of Carrie Underwood filled the bar.

“Did you do this?” you called out to her, quickly jumping from your seat and meeting her halfway as she shook her head no and the two of you fell into each other in a fit of hysterics.

“I thought you did!” she said and you shook your head as she took your hands and started dancing and singing along… well, the best the two of you could around your laughter. Jake watched as Phoenix hoisted you onto the bar and clambered up after you and just as Penny turned around to yell at you he shot her a pleading look.

“Let them have it,” he said and Penny weighed her options before conceding, looking up at you making a dance floor out of her bar and deciding to let it go… you and Phoenix needed to let loose more often and if it meant disinfecting her bar the second you got down then so be it. 

“I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,” you shouted at each other as you danced and Jake watched in admiration, wondering how the hell you managed to be so carefree in the face of something that would cripple most people. 

“Well, at least she’s letting off some steam somehow,” he commented to the rest of the group who had gathered to watch their best friends.

Bob chuckled, “she’s already done plenty of that tonight.” he said and Jake whipped his head around to look at the wizzo.

“What does that mean?” Between this and your cryptic statement earlier he was now thoroughly convinced you’d done something but he didn’t know what and he hated feeling out of the loop when it came to your life.

“Oh, uh…” Bob stammered.

“Bob.” 

“Uh, Phoenix may or may not have let me know they got up to some extracurriculars before they came here, potentially inspired by this song…” he answered and Jake looked back at you in awe, laughing as he imagined it and chest swelling with pride. Sure, he was a little jealous it was Phoenix you called to commit a crime with, but you needed her and she needed you. He’d had you his whole life and he might have been everything to you but so was Phoenix, she understood you in ways he couldn’t and if that meant she was your person for vandalism and destruction of property that was fine by him. He lifted his arms to grip your hips as the song ended and supported you as you jumped to the floor, keeping his arms in place as you looked up at him wide eyed and breathless.

“Heard about your pregaming activities,” he said and you smirked.

“Are you gonna lecture me?” you asked and he just shook his head, taking a step forward and pressing you against the bar.

“Nope. It’s a hell of a lot more tame than what I wanted to do to him,” he said and you just nodded. “Is it wrong that the visual of you in these little shorts destroying his car is a turn on?” You suddenly felt acutely aware of how close the two of you were, of the way he was looking down at you like you were responsible for hanging all the stars in the sky, and the way his fingertips were digging into your skin. “Because it is… I cannot imagine anything hotter,” he said, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face.

“No, it isn’t wrong…” you said softly, losing the capacity to say anything else as his eyes bored into yours. “Question is, what are you going to do about it?” you asked, regaining your footing and he smirked as he pressed against you, pushing you further against the bartop and caging you into place.

“What do you want me to do about it?” he countered, enjoying how easily he was riling you up and that little voice in your head telling you to pull back, to stop this before it went too far, to preserve the friendship was ignored… it was Jake, at this point nothing could break your friendship and you saw a wide open opportunity to make your feelings known.

“I want you to kiss me,” you replied and he obliged instantly, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss that had you dizzy and falling against him. He pulled back and softly smiled as you looked up at him in a daze, fighting every urge to kiss you again and never stop. 

“Come on, angel… let’s get you home,” he said just as Rooster appeared with another drink and Jake shoved it back in his direction. “Nuh uh, give it to Phoenix. And you,” he turned his attention back to you, “are not allowed to accept drinks from strange men anymore,” he said and you just giggled.

“Strange men?” Rooster protested but it was ignored.

“Is that so?” you asked, looping your fingers through his as he led you out of the bar. “And why is that?”

“I’m the only one buying your drinks from now on, sweetheart… and I’m the only one taking you home,” he said, and you leaned your head against his arm as you stepped into the cool night air.

“I think I’m good with that…” What you didn’t see was everyone rolling their eyes and slapping twenties into Phoenix’s outstretched hand, but you didn’t care… all you saw was Jake and that’s all that mattered.

[unclewaynemunson]

Read from the beginning | Read on ao3

Eddie finally manages to let it go. Truly, he does. Whenever he and Karen Wheeler accidentally cross paths, he doesn't stare at her, follow her, or try to strike up a conversation with her; he doesn't do any of that inappropriate shit anymore. He keeps his distance, gives her no more attention than a polite nod in passing. He keeps wondering, sometimes, if she knows who he is – but he mostly manages to shove that thought to the far back of his mind, where it belongs.

When Nancy starts dating Grade A Douchebag Steve Harrington, he suppresses the hell out of any lingering Concerned Big Brother feelings and he doesn't spare the two of them a second glance whenever he walks past them in the Hawkins High hallways. And even when Barbara Holland goes missing, he doesn't fantasize about being a hero or a shoulder to cry on for this girl who has no attachment to him in any way. In another life, he'd be the one comforting her or helping her look for her best friend. But in this life, he's just some guy who has nothing to do with her business.

He does think it's odd that both of the Wheelers' best friends have gone missing within a few days of each other; but hey, what does he know? It's not his business, so he stays out of it. He stays far away from Will Byers' funeral and doesn't think about this other life, the life in which he'd help little Mike put on a suit and dry his tears. He merely lets out a relieved breath when he sees the two boys reunited about a month later, both giggling about some private joke with matching innocent smiles on their faces.

He doesn't fantasize about punching Steve Harrington in the face when the douchebag drags Nancy's name through the mud on the front of the Hawk and he doesn't reach out to her when she seems to grow smaller and paler over the course of the months that follow with still no news about Barbara. He doesn't even talk to her after the news breaks that Barbara is dead. He knows his place. He has learned to keep his distance.

Which is why he's taken by utter surprise when someone knocks on the door of the trailer one night and he's suddenly face-to-face with none other than Nancy Wheeler.

She doesn't exactly look like the little miss perfect he's come to know from the glimpses he caught of her over the years at school or in town. She looks... Well, she looks distressed, that's probably the best word for it. Her resemblance to Eddie has grown over the years, especially since she started sporting curls and her girlish features made way for something more grown-up. She looks like the loss of her best friend has forced her to mature quicker than she would've if her life was still the picture-perfect suburban dream it should've been. It suddenly strikes Eddie, when he looks into her eyes for the first time in years, how much more similar they've become exactly. They're not as different anymore as they once were. They both know more grief than most of their classmates. They're both haunted, in a way. They've both been forced to grow up when they weren't quite ready for it yet.

'Wheeler,' he says, keeping his voice as distant and careless as he can, complemented with an indifferent nod to make the whole thing as convincing as possible.

'Can I come in?' Nancy asks him.

He's got to say he's surprised. It's not an uncommon thing to have people knocking on his door at odd hours, shielded by the dark and with varying levels of desperation in their eyes while they ask Eddie for whatever it is they need to calm themselves down from whatever demons they've got going on. But it's not exactly something he was expecting from Nancy Wheeler, even though he supposes she has plenty of reasons to need some help calming herself down after the loss she suffered last year.

He knows he should keep his distance. He remembers the promise he made himself, for his own good, more than a year and a half ago. But the look in Nancy's eyes is making his heart weak.

'Sure,' he says before he can stop himself. With a bow he opens the door further and steps aside to let her in.

She looks a little lost, standing in the middle of the trailer with her perfectly styled hair and expensive-looking clothes.

'Whaddaya want?' he asks when she says nothing. 'Just some weed? I'm guessing something not too strong, you don't strike me like a particularly experienced person – do you even know how to roll? I can do it for you, but I'll have to ask for a fee of –'

'I'm not here to buy anything,' Nancy interrupts him. 'I – I just need to talk with you.'

'Talk with me?' he repeats, confused. ''Bout what?'

'About my mom.'

The implications of that simple confession hang heavy in the air between them. It's quiet for an endless amount of seconds, the two of them merely caught in each other's equally wide-eyed gazes.

'You knew, didn't you?' Nancy asks finally. 'That's why you were, like, stalking me back in my freshman year.'

He still doesn't know what to say; the only thing he can do is nod slowly.

'Can we talk?' she asks.

He sinks down on the ratty old couch with the faded cushions, which Nancy seems to take as an invitation for her to take Uncle Wayne's worn-down but insanely comfortable armchair.

Never in a million years would he have expected things to play out this way. Oh sure, he's imagined it, Nancy sitting across from him in the exact same chair she's sitting now; he's imagined it countless times. But he never actually thought it would happen. And certainly not like this.

For fuck's sake, just when he managed to let it go, it all comes crashing back... He doesn't know what to think, doesn't even know what to feel right now.

'Did she tell you?' he blurts out.

A humorless laugh escapes from Nancy's mouth.

'God, no,' she says. 'I think she's planning to take it to the grave with her. I snooped around in her stuff.' She doesn't seem too ashamed about it. 'I met this P.I. a few months ago, when I was trying to find Barbara. He said some weird things, about my mom. That she was hiding shit, keeping secrets. Johnathan kept telling me to let it go, but I couldn't, so I started digging and...' She sighs. 'I never expected this. But I just – I needed to meet you. To talk with you.'

She seems to hesitate for a moment, biting her lip. 'I'm so sorry she did that to you,' she finally says.

Eddie wants to tell her a million things: that it's not her fault, that she has nothing to say sorry for, that he's beyond glad she showed up at the trailer... But he feels pressure building behind his eyes and finds himself stunned, only able to blink rapidly in order to keep his tears from falling.

He tries to hide himself behind his hair and his hands, but there's no use; Nancy is smart, he won't be able to hide anything from her...

And suddenly she's right next to him on the couch, wrapping her thin arms around him and nudging him until he's leaning against her and his head is on her shoulder.

'It's okay, I'm here,' she murmurs, putting a hand in his hair.

And it's all so goddamn ridiculous. He can't count the times he imagined himself being the big brother this girl never had. All the times he dreamed about catching her when she'd fall, being a shoulder to cry on whenever she suffered loss or grief or pain in any way... Not once had he thought about a reunion where he would be the one breaking down in her arms like a fucking child.

But when he looks up, trying to get his breathing under control again, her face shows him a reflection of what he himself must look like: Nancy's lip is wobbling, her eyes are wet and traces of tears are visible on her cheeks.

It takes his breath away in a whole new way: he doesn't think he's ever cried with someone before. Sure, Wayne was never above comforting him when he was younger. But he's nineteen now, an adult who no longer lets his uncle see him when he cries. And no matter how close he is to Jeff, Freak and Gareth, he has never let any of them witness his tears.

'I'm really glad I found out,' Nancy says, her voice unsteady but sincere. 'You must've felt so lonely.'

Eddie can't help but return her tentative smile.

'Are you gonna confront your mom?' he asks.

Nancy sighs. 'I don't know,' she quietly confesses. 'I honestly don't think I can even look at her right now. I just – I needed to get away from there. I think I need some time to process all of it.'

Eddie almost bursts out into unbelieving laughter with what he's about to propose.

'Wanna make this a sleepover, then?' He makes a broad arm gesture towards their surroundings. 'I mean, we don't exactly have much here, but my uncle's at work all night and I think I got enough room in my bed for two. If you want to.'

Nancy gladly takes his offer, borrows one of Eddie's old shirts that don't fit him anymore, and crawls under the covers beside him. It all feels more than a little bit surreal; like Eddie will wake up the next day to a cold and empty bed, and the sisterly love he's been yearning for will turn out to have been nothing but a dream all along, slipping through his fingers yet another time.

But, surreal or not, they keep talking until well into the night. They're lying in mirroring fetal positions, facing each other from their own pillow. They let words rapidly stream out of their mouths as they desperately try to catch up on seventeen years of not being together before the sun comes up, in a race against the clock. Maybe Nancy feels the utter outlandishness of this whole situation as well, making it feel like they'll only ever get this night, instead of a whole lifetime to properly get to know each other. As if everything they tell each other will be gone by the time they'll wake up the next day, and they have to cram as many words into it as possible.

Finally, Eddie can stop imagining what it would've been like to grow up in the big house on Maple Street. Nancy tells him all about her parents' loveless marriage, her annoying little brother and spoiled little sister; about what it's like to eat in the spotless kitchen and play in the neatly maintained garden. About how she feels like that picture-perfect life has its fingers wrapped around her throat and has been slowly choking her for years.

She tells him about Barb: about how she's been feeling as if she's walking around with a gaping, throbbing wound in her chest ever since she lost her. About the guilt that's still consuming her more than a year later. About how she wishes every single day that she had done things differently on the night Barb disappeared.

She also tells him about her mother: about how she resents her sometimes, for settling for a marriage devoid of love and willingly inhabiting the cage of being a housewife. About how much she looks down on her for caring too much about things like tablecloths or apple pies or smudges on freshly cleaned windows – and about how much she loves her despite it all, for knowing how to listen when Nancy needs her to, and for encouraging Nancy to become something unlike herself. She confesses to him how fiercely she hates her right now, for abandoning a baby and keeping that from her family. She tells Eddie how she feels like she never truly knew her.

And he tells her things, too. He tells her what it was like growing up as the son of Clyde Munson. What it was like to be a child without a mother, to have nothing but a father raging about some bitch whenever he'd ask questions about this mystery woman who brought him into this world. How he could tell that his father still loved her, despite everything, because he refused to give up her secret.

He tells her what it was like when his father got locked up for grand theft auto and arson, what it was like to come and live with Wayne. He tells her how he found out who his mother was; how he ended up in the Wheelers' yard on the night he learned the truth, and how he could never stop staring at any of the Wheelers during the all the years that followed. He tells her how he let his obsession grow big enough to make him fail his senior year. He even tells her the one thing he's never told anyone before, not even Jeff: that he feels guilty towards Uncle Wayne every single day. The supply of love he gives to Eddie is endless, and yet it will never be enough: he'll always keep standing in the shadow of this fantasy of a family.

But he doesn't only talk about his messed-up family. He also tells her about good things: about his friends, his band, and his other passion projects. When he finds himself talking a mile a minute about D&D, Nancy smiles and tells him it must be a family trait, because her little brother is equally obsessed with that game.

They talk until their throats are sore; until Nancy's eyes are falling shut every two seconds and she can't stop yawning.

He has so many things to tell her, so many things to ask her, so many lost moments to make up for. He understands all too well that they're both almost adults and that there's no possibility to turn back the clock and pretend like they're little kids again. There's no way to get back the versions of them that might play hide-and-seek on the street in front of their house, or egg each other on to see who can swing the highest in the playground. Those are the memories they'll never get to make. But they're here. Against everything he ever expected, he's having a sleepover with his little sister. They're sharing secrets while wrapped up in the same blanket. They're only properly meeting each other for the first time, but they're already connecting like they've known each other all their lives. And, against all odds, they get to build something neither of them ever thought they'd have.

[scoopertrouper]

Was thinking about Barb’s funeral, the Hollands greeting Nancy and assuming she’s still with Steve + her surprise when Steve shows up.

no idea what it is about your prompts (if that was, indeed, what this even was lol), but damn.

every time i think - that's it! i'm going to write Steve and Nancy together now - i get a query like this, that digs deep inside my brain and won't let go until it's out. and then i saw this screenshot (because truthfully i had to do some googling to refresh my memory, it's been a minute since i did a full s2 rewatch) and it was game over.

this is maybe a little messy and not EXACTLY what you asked for, but I do hope, even so, that it seems true - true to the characters, and true to who they are at this particular moment in time (which, yes, is a warning for some fairly mild J&N content, if you can't hang with that at all).

it's all about the liminal spaces, man.

*~*~*

Nancy’s coat is too warm.

That’s the first thought that comes to her, staring at a coffin that will, within the hour, sit buried beneath the ground. 

Barb’s face smiles distantly at her through an altogether too-cheerful wreath of roses, next to the empty coffin as hollow as the hole it’s soon to be lowered into, and all Nancy thinks is – “I should’ve worn a different coat.” 

It’s true that it’s unseasonably warm for an early December day. But even so, the smart black blazer she’s chosen should, in theory, be perfectly appropriate for the weather. 

And yet Nancy is stifling – barricaded in by a gravesite to her front, and Jonathan to her left, and Barb’s perpetually smiling, two-dimensional face to her right. Warmth is creeping up her neck, and under her armpits, and between the shallow valley of her breasts, and she longs to rip off all her layers, to take off running until the breeze cools the sweat she can’t stop from trickling down her back.

This should be comforting, right? This is what she’s longed for – a resolution for Barb, for her parents. Acknowledgment that she’s not just missing, with all the implications that can come with that. She’s dead, and someone (something) has been held responsible for it, and now they finally get to say their last goodbyes. 

But what has this whole year been for Nancy, if not one long, drawn-out goodbye? A goodbye to Barb, to her innocence, to the ability to even walk down the driveway at night without jumping at the smallest sounds. 

A goodbye to…no. Nancy shakes herself. She’s not going there. Not today, at least.

“Nancy?” Jonathan nudges her, concern plain on his face (plain to her, anyway, and she’s grateful she’s gotten to know him well enough to read that). “I know the Rotary Club’s wreath is pretty ugly, but setting it on fire with your eyes isn’t gonna make it better.” 

It’s exactly the kind of dumb-serious joke she needs to jolt her from the death stare she’s been leveling at the casket for the past five minutes, and it’s doubly effective because it’s Jonathan, whose quips usually masquerade as wry commentary on the disarray of his life. (Nancy’s new place in it notwithstanding, of course. She thinks.)

But it’s also jarring, knocking her even more off-axis because, well, telling stupid jokes to snap Nancy out of it when she’d get too far inside her own head was usually how – 

No. 

Not. Thinking. About. It.

Because Nancy’s not thinking about…it, she slips her hand into his. It’s chapped, but warm, and it fits better against hers with every passing day. Even if sometimes she’s startled to find the fingers are too long and the palm too narrow. 

She gives him her best attempt at a smile.

“Sorry. This is…a lot harder than I thought it would be,” she admits. Then, because it feels right, she squeezes his hand. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

Jonathan opens his mouth to speak, but before she can find out what he plans to say, a familiar voice cuts in.

“Nancy?” It’s Barb’s mom. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you made it.”

Just the sight of her – red-rimmed eyes, clearly in between bouts of crying – makes Nancy’s throat ache.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she replies, returning the surprisingly fierce hug Mrs. Holland offers. She resists the overwhelming impulse to squeeze her own eyes shut. 

Nancy had been prepared to give up far more than she’d ultimately had to to ensure this day would come – but everything she’d been ready to sacrifice would still have paled in comparison to the totality of this woman’s loss.

“It’s not the way I’d hoped our search would end,” Mrs. Holland sniffs, dabbing at her eye with a well-used tissue, “but at least this way, we get to say goodbye.”

She doesn’t look particularly grateful – in fact, she looks gutted, like she’s been turned inside out and scraped down to the last ragged, exposed nerve. 

For one wild moment, Nancy wonders if it would have been better for them to spend the rest of their lives wondering. Living with the hope that Barb was still out there somewhere, and might find her way home to them. 

Wonders if the closure she’d been trying to secure for them had actually been a selfish disservice. Not everyone, after all, is as desperate for the truth – as willing to compromise everything to get it – as Nancy. She’s realizing that, now.

But it’s too late to wonder. What’s done is done, and at least now they have something to visit when they miss her.

Mrs. Holland seems to have drawn herself back together, and Nancy’s prepared for her to move on, to steel her spine and greet the next group of sympathizers, but instead she’s casting her eyes around.

“Where’s Steve, honey? I’d love to say hi to him before the ceremony starts, he was always so sweet to come with you to see us.”

Jonathan stiffens beside her, and for a full five seconds Nancy freezes – no thoughts, no breathing, heart displaced into her throat. 

Even through the haze of her own grief, it doesn’t take Mrs. Holland long to clock Jonathan, standing closer to Nancy than most good friends would, or to recognize the tension apparent in both their postures. Nancy doesn’t let go of his hand, but it’s a very near thing.

She doesn’t know what excuse she’s going to stammer out to break the stilted silence – doesn’t even know what, exactly, she’s trying to excuse – when she’s saved by the best, worst interruption.

“Hey, Mrs. Holland. Sorry I’m a little late, I got held up at the doctor’s office.”

He appears over Mrs. Holland’s shoulder like a shadow – a shadow with at least half-a-head’s height on her. He cuts a darker figure than Nancy is used to, dressed for the occasion as he is in somber charcoals and blacks. 

(With an uncomfortable start, she realizes she recognizes the sweater he’s wearing. She’s the one who’d picked it for him, an impulse buy on a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Bloomington Gap. It looks as good on him in person now as she’d imagined it would then.)

The plain delight on Mrs. Holland’s face goes a long way toward easing the worst of the awkwardness. Steve accepts her hug and congenial pat on the cheek with a surprised smile, and it’s clear that he’s touched by how touched Barb’s mom is.

“Thank you for coming, Steve. It means the world to see people showing up for our Barb.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. Holland,” he says, echoing Nancy’s sentiments with full sincerity. 

Nancy is overwhelmed by a shame that rakes claw marks up the inside of her throat, because hadn’t she just been prepared to explain away his absence based on the assumption that he would?

This, for whatever reason, wasn’t an eventuality she’d prepared herself for, even considering he’d diligently showed up to every dinner with (somewhat) minimal complaint, had made polite conversation through the most painful pauses, and had somehow managed to win over Barb’s parents to the extent that her mother was asking after him at their daughter’s funeral.

(If Barb could only see them now.)

Through all of this, he doesn’t look at Nancy once, and that absence lands about as gently as a haymaker to her solar plexus. 

“Well.” Mrs. Holland clears her throat, appearing seconds away from dissolving again. “Don’t be strangers. We’d love to have you both –” she catches herself, eyes darting between them, and then Jonathan, and then back, “– we’d love to have you over sometime for dinner again soon.”

With a brief parting squeeze of Nancy’s shoulder, she moves on to Karen and Ted, and Nancy lets out a tight breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

Finally, with no other distractions at hand, Steve acknowledges them, proffering a brief nod he doesn’t wait to see returned before he’s crossing to Jonathan’s left, settling a careful handful of paces away from them. 

It stings, and Nancy considers saying something – what does she have a right to say, really? – but there’s no time, because the service is already starting.

It’s excruciating.

It’s barely 30 minutes long, and Nancy feels every single second of them. Almost immediately, Mrs. Holland loses the composure she’d managed to cling to through talking to Nancy, Steve, and Nancy’s parents, and now she’s sobbing into her husband’s shoulder, heaving sounds that echo painfully across the cemetery.

Steve is standing several feet away, still as a stone, but she feels his presence so acutely that he might as well be as close to her as Jonathan currently is. 

She wishes he hadn’t come at all. Wishes he could make it easy for her to turn the page away from the Steve-and-Nancy chapter of her life – wishes she could write him off as an obvious mistake that dragged on way too long before crashing to its inevitable conclusion.

Instead, he keeps stubbornly defying her expectations. Letting her go with Jonathan with unbearable grace. Keeping her brother and his friends safe (even after he’d already been beaten to shit). Showing up for Barb’s funeral when he’d known she’d be here and had every reason not to come.

It’s maddening, because – look, she doesn’t regret her choice, okay? Jonathan is just – he’s a better fit. He’s been there for her, been with her, and he gets her. He gets that sometimes you can’t create understanding by explaining.

Gets that – that anger entwined with despair that she can’t control, this huge, black feeling inside that festers and grows until it demands an outlet, requires a purpose or a target so that it doesn’t turn inward and hit self-destruct. 

She doesn’t have to describe that to Jonathan – not in words – and it’s a relief, because she wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

So no, what she’s experiencing isn’t regret – at least, it doesn’t usually feel like it. But sometimes it might get close, on the odd occasion she sees him around school, tossing his perfect hair and flashing his surprisingly kind smile. All good looks and casual charm, with that little bit of Steve Harrington je ne sais quoi that Nancy has always admired and resented in equal measure (especially when it has girls twirling their hair at him in study hall, from the seat that used to be Nancy’s).

Or on the evenings when she can see his Beemer through the living room picture window, passenger side doors flinging open so that Dustin – usually only Dustin, but sometimes Dustin plus Lucas, or Max, or even Mike – can spill out into the street, chattering a mile a minute, shouting back at the driver’s side even as they make their way to the front door.

Especially during times like those, she can’t help but wonder – if he’d been like this while they were still dating, would that have changed things? Or was he always like this, and she was too wrapped up in herself and her guilt to notice?

She doesn’t like the way it makes her feel, to think about that, so she usually pushes it out of her mind. 

Nancy has spent far too long feeling far too terrible about things that are far outside of her control, and she’s just – she’s tired. Exhausted. Because she did what she set out to do: she got Barb’s parents the answers they needed to move on. 

Even if it doesn’t feel as good, as victorious, as final as she thought it would – it’s done. And now, it’s time for her to move on. From everything. Including Steve Harrington.

(Hopefully.)

She spends much of the remainder of the service in a fuzzy, numb fugue, barely aware of more than the anchor of Jonathan’s hand and the sound of Mrs. Holland crying, which has quieted to small snuffles that are somehow worse than the sobbing. 

It’s terrible – she’s been waiting for this moment, this closure, for more than a year – but now, she can’t wait for it to end. Needs it to end so that she can shove the dull hurt into the overstuffed closet in her mind, right next to her anger and whatever it is she still feels when she looks at Steve. So that she can lock it up and walk away from it for good.

She’s been waiting for this for more than a year, but the next ten minutes feel even harder to get through than that. 

But finally, the end comes. The reverend says a final prayer, the casket is lowered into the open grave, and Barb Holland is put to rest, in spirit if not in body. 

Nancy doesn’t think she’s been crying, but when she lifts her face and feels the breeze against the damp-tight skin of her cheeks, she realizes she must’ve been. She was warm before, but now she’s cold, and she wipes the tear tracks from her face with her sleeve. 

The Hollands are still standing in a tight clutch over the gravesite, showing no signs of moving anytime soon, but Nancy doesn’t know if she can stay another minute. 

(She doesn’t think she’s needed for this part, anyway.)

“Nancy?” Jonathan murmurs at her, asking without asking if she’s ready to leave, taking her small nod as tacit assent. 

As they’re turning to go, she accidentally locks eyes with Steve, who’s turning in the same direction, and she barely stops herself from flinching back.

There’s a barely-there line of bruising still visible on the right side of his forehead, and all at once, she remembers that he’d said he was late because he’d been held up at the doctor’s. 

Her first impulse is to ask – are you okay? Nothing about the way Billy Hargrove had brutalized his face was within the bounds of a normal high school fight, and it makes her sick that that shithead is still swaggering around school like he owns it, hitting up parties and leaving a trail of swooning rejects in his wake.

But are you okay? is the kind of privileged information she doesn’t have a right to anymore – and the question is too broad for her to be brave enough to want to know how he’d answer. So she bites her tongue against asking, swallows it down and instead says – 

“Thanks for coming today.” It’s barely a whisper, and he and Jonathan are both visibly surprised. “You didn’t have to.”

Steve’s mouth flattens.

“Of course I did,” he responds immediately. “Jesus, Nancy, I’m not that big of a –” He fumbles his words and looks covertly around, clearly rethinking whatever he was about to say based on the surroundings and circumstances. “I was just – I was never not gonna come, okay?”

He mumbles it, staring at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Nancy feels that sense of shame clawing up her throat again. Sometimes, she forgets. Sometimes, she gets so caught up in the fact that Barb died because Nancy left her that she forgets – it was his pool.

She doesn’t know what to say; somehow, she doesn’t think I’m sorry is gonna cut it for this or anything else that’s happened over the last couple of months, and she’s not even completely sure what she’d be apologizing for in the first place. But she tries. 

“No, Steve, I didn’t mean it like –” He cuts in before she can even form half of a coherent sentence, rocking back on his feet.

“It’s fine, no big,” he exhales in a rush. “Anyway, I gotta go get Dustin before he blows, like, a year’s allowance trying to beat Max’s Centipede score. So. Uh, see you both around school, I guess.”

She thinks both she and Jonathan make some vague noises of agreement, but he’s already escaping down the hill to his car in fast, long steps. 

Out of the blue, she realizes that he must’ve shortened his stride for her when they were together. There’s no way she’d have been able to keep up, otherwise. 

(Funny, considering it always felt like he was the one who needed to catch up to her.)

If this had happened just two months ago, Nancy thinks, she would’ve been standing next to him during the service. Holding on to him, and matching (trying to match) his steps. Sliding into the front passenger seat of his car like she belonged there. Maybe he would’ve driven away with just one hand, keeping hers in the other – or maybe he would’ve given her a soft, lingering kiss to try to chase the day’s troubles away. 

It wouldn’t have worked, but she would’ve liked the feeling anyway. 

That was then, though. Now, she’s following Jonathan to his little clunker that starts as often as it doesn’t. And he can’t hold her hand, because he needs both to manage the wonky steering. 

But he’ll distract her by asking which tape she wants to listen to on the way back to his place, and when they get there he’ll hold her in silence until she feels like talking. And that – that works, too.

It’s not perfect. It won’t make the itching under her skin go away, and it won’t quell the constant urge she has to do and solve and act. But in its own way, it’ll feel as nice as soft kisses over the dashboard, and isn’t that enough? 

Nothing is perfect, which is a truth that sometimes it feels like Nancy is taking the most painful path possible toward learning. Life is, as it turns out, a series of compromises. Maybe the Hollands won’t ever learn how their daughter truly died, but then again, maybe the almost-truth is good enough. It serves the same purpose, regardless.

Nancy has made her choices. They’re not perfect, not even close, but they’re her own, and she’s happy with them. 

Happy enough.

[asexualasshat]

Okay I’m envisioning this as platonic but hear me out but what if back when Jonathan is just a little 14 year old and it’s a few months into high school. Kids who were his friends in middle school now avoid him like the plague. It makes sense why he got less and less calls to hang out over the summer. The only person who’s remotely near his orbit is Nancy wheeler, but they only talk when it comes to their bothers, which isn’t often these days since Nancy doesn’t spend much time with Mike. So he’s alone. But he’s fine, he’s mostly content with himself.

He’s usually busy with his brother, anyway. A few years back Will and his friends started playing dnd. And Will loves it. It’s one of the few things that really gets him talking these days. So Jonathan has heard quite a lot about it. Right now, Will is planning his first campaign. And Will is wonderfully creative, but he’s also painfully insecure. So he’s struggling. He’s always asked to pass his chance to dm before because he didn’t feel it would be nice enough. But Mike gave him a pep talk, so he’s doing it. But the first session is next week and he’s getting nowhere.

So he and Jonathan talk about it. They figure out some minor details, but little else. Still, Jonathan jots down some notes so he can try and percolate on it.

And a day or two laters he’s hiding outside at the back of the school at lunch. And who walks by but this guy he knows from his math class with hair awkwardly to his chin. Eddie Munson. And usually he doesn’t say anything, actually he’s never said a word to Eddie. But Jonathan knows that last year, someone started a DND club at school. And Eddie? In it.

So Jonathan flags him down. And Eddie was expecting Jonathan to be buying, since he’d picked up a dealing gig over the summer. But no. Instead Jonathan whips out his notebook. Explains that his kid brother is trying to dm but he’s stuck and could use some advice. So Eddie’s a bit shook. But then he’s Eddie so he’s like ‘hit me’

And he spitballs a few ideas. Gives some dming advice. It’s maybe a ten minute conversation. And then they part ways cordially.

Will already knows about the highschool club, Jonathan had excitedly told him weeks ago. But now he tells Will he talked to a guy there and got some advice. Will takes it into consideration. Some ideas he rolls with. Others aren’t quite right, but it usually sets him off with another idea. The advice seems to help. Rather than dejectedly staring at his books, he’s making little bullet point notes and reading paragraphs rapidly.

The first few sessions go well. A few weeks later, he’s approached by Eddie at lunch again. They talk about it. Jonathan honestly can’t keep up with details much, but relays what he knows. Eddie talks about though how he has been a dm before, he’s being allowed to run a one shot for the club for the first time. So he gets the nerves.

Again, the conversation is short.

They rarely talk. Only in these bursts every month or two. It’s unclear why they can’t mesh the friendship gap. Maybe because they’re both broke freaks, you’d think they’d be a perfect match. But for some reason they never bridge the gap. They almost exclusively talk about whatever campaign Will kid is involved with, be it dming or playing.

So when it’s time for the kids freshman year, Eddie is looking out. He knows Jonathan’s brother won’t be there, that he’d moved. But he knows his friends are here. He figures out who they are pretty much right away. And sure, maybe it makes him latch on a little extra since Jonathan talked so fondly about them.

Time passes and spring break is over. And everyone is back in hawkins and moods are low. But Jonathan has been given the rundown on everything Eddie did to help. And how he almost died but sure didn’t.

For the record, Max is also fine and is just down the hall. She’s recovering and taking a pleasant nap from which she’ll awake within a few hours.

So Eddie’s in his hospital bed and will comes in with the kids, on a visiting rotation kinda thing. And they’re taking. And then Jonathan is like “oh, hey will. Remember the guy from school I’d asked dnd questions to? That’s Eddie.”

And everyone’s eyes light up. They all knew Will had gotten big kid advice. Over the years, every now and then one of them would pester Jonathan to go get answers. And occasionally, Jonathan obliged. He’d not wanted to bother Eddie too often.

And Eddie is also still really excited that he’s meeting will the wise, in the flesh, even though they’d met for the first time a few days before. And so he’s like “you know, Will. Every one of these morons in here won’t shut up about you.”

And will is blushing but everyone is having a great time. And they’re tentatively planning a one shot for once they’re discharged.

And Eddie and Jonathan talk more in coming times. About how they’d each been too oddly nervous to approach the other for actual friendship. Jonathan had seemed to look like he’d rather be alone. And Eddie had seemed to look like he’d leave Jonathan behind. Neither true, but the feelings were valid. But they’re kinda bonded now.

Maybe even to the extent that Jonathan might try playing again

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the gate

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs.  Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.” This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain.

Summary: you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

Rating: general, although very violent

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, intense violence and blood, weapons, monsters, probably more im forgetting

Words: 20.1k (no one speak to me)

Before you swing in: this is it ,,, the final episode of season two <3 this chapter was both the easiest and hardest one ive ever written. there are scenes in here that i put so much into, and im so proud of where everything landed. handling so many relationships and dynamics was so incredibly difficult, but i adore where they ended up. i hope you guys do, too :)

-

“Eleven,”

“Mike.”

The two kids embrace, Mike holding desperately onto El as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again any second, and she’s holding onto him just as tightly as their tears mix together. 

You watch them with a hand over your heart, your own tears spilling over. You can’t believe this is real, that El is standing in Mike’s arms alive and real.

The way they cling to each other brings more tears to your eyes. It’s obvious to everyone how much they love one another. You think about the endless batches of brownies you baked for Mike, how many nights you spent in his basement standing watch, looking for any sign of grief, in case he needed you there to remind him that it’s okay to cry. 

“Is that…?” Max asks Lucas, and he nods. 

“She’s back.” You exhale, feeling Dustin’s fingers slip between yours. He knows how much you missed El, he’s spent just as many nights keeping watch over you, reminding you to cry as well. 

Mike pulls away, his eyes shining with tears. “I never gave up on you. I called you every night. Every night for–”

“353 days.” El finishes for him, you’ve never heard so much emotion in her voice. “I heard.”

You think about the nights you found Mike huddled underneath the fort he once built for El in his basement, clutching the radio to his chest, passed out from exhaustion. You never mentioned it to the boy, knowing he’d simply deny and tell you it was nothing, but hearing El confirm what you already knew still hurts. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there?” 

You look around the room now, wondering the same as Mike, and then your eyes land on Hopper. While everyone looks surprised or confused at El’s reappearance, Hopper’s face is one of resignation. 

Everything clicks. 

He knew.

Hopper sees that you’ve pieced it together and steps forward. “Because I wouldn’t let her.”

You step forward as well so that you’re next to Mike, knowing that this will only upset him more. “You knew.”

“What the hell is this?” The chief ignores you, now speaking only to El. “Where’ve you been?”

“Where have you been?” El’s eyes darken, but she immediately melts when Hopper pulls her into a hug. By watching their body language, you can tell that they love each other dearly, and distantly you remember hearing about the daughter Hopper once had. 

Though you’re angry he hid El from you, you’re thankful they found one another in the end. You’ve never seen Hopper so tender with someone, and El seems to feel safe within his embrace, far from the skittish girl you found in the woods last year. 

“You’ve been hiding her!” Lost in your thoughts, you momentarily forget about Mike, who launches himself at Hopper and punches the man’s chest. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Hopper flinches away. “Hey–”

“Mike,” you grab his shoulders, knowing his anger will only do more harm than good, but he struggles against you as he tries to continue hitting the man. “We can all talk about this–”

“Let’s talk,” Hopper grabs at Mike’s shirt, finally forcing the kid to stop. Then, looking directly at you, he adds. “Alone.”

You look at Mike, silently asking him what he needs from you. You know the two of them need to settle their differences, that he feels Hopper’s betrayal the deepest and you trust him to make his own choices. However, with one headshake from him, you would prevent Mike from being alone with Hopper in a heartbeat. 

Mike knows this, he doesn’t have to even have to ask what you mean when you gently nod your chin at him. Taking a deep breath, the boy sighs and nods at you, indicating that he’ll talk with the cop. 

You let go of Mike and gently push him towards Hopper. “He’s all yours, but try not to kill him, please? I unfortunately like the kid.”

Hopper doesn’t play into your words and promptly grabs the back of Mike’s hoodie and marches him towards Will’s room. The door closes behind them, leaving you to deal with El.

Her nose is bleeding and she looks upset having Mike taken from her, there’s an exhaustion behind her eyes that you’re all too familiar with. You wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

El leans into the kiss you press upon her cheek and closes her eyes, relishing in the tenderness after the night she’s had. “Missed you.”

“And I missed you.” You place another kiss on her head. “The hairstyle suits you, by the way.”

This seems to lighten the girl up a bit, who giggles and quietly thanks you as she wraps her arms fully around you now, securing you into a hug. You allow her all the time she needs to collect herself. 

When you hear Mike’s heartbroken screams at Hopper, calling him a liar, you squeeze your arms tighter around El. “They’ll be fine,” you promise her, feeling the need to reassure her of this, though hearing Mike’s screams breaks your heart.

You understand why Hopper hid El, it wasn’t safe for anyone to know about her being alive, but Mike spent the entire year grieving for her. He lost a year of his childhood mourning the loss of a close friend, of someone he loves, and it isn’t fair to expect him to accept this. 

El nods at your reassurance before you’re suddenly shoved away from her. 

“You’re hogging the former dead girl, Y/N!” Dustin exclaims as he engulfs El into a hug. 

Lucas flashes you an apologetic smile before hugging the girl as well, focusing his attention on her. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She responds, squeezing both boys tight. 

“We talked about you pretty much every day.” Dustin pulls away before pointing at you. “Y/N usually just cried.”

You elbow your brother, causing him to wince. “You say that like I don’t normally cry over things.”

Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but suddenly El’s fingers are pinching at his lips as she pries his jaw open. Your brother looks at you in alarm, and you’re too stunned to do anything besides watch in bewilderment. 

“Teeth.” El finally says,

You giggle, while Dustin simply stares at her as if she’s insane. “What?”

“You have teeth.”

Dustin breaks into a smile. “Oh, you like these pearls?”

When he makes an obscure purring sound with his mouth, you scoff at your brother and roll your eyes alongside Lucas. “Please, never do that ever again.”

“Eleven?” Max now approaches with a warm smile on her face, the most open you’ve ever seen the girl, and extends her hand for El to shake. “Hey, um. I’m Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

El looks at you and tilts her head, which you assume means she’s unsure what to do, so you step in. “Max is a friend, sweetheart.”

She eyes Max’s hand, looks up at her again, before bypassing the girl completely and going straight into Joyce’s arms.

You frown, confused by El’s unusual dismissiveness, and look over at Max. Her head is ducked down, embarrassed, and you make a mental note to remind yourself later to ask El what happened. Max is a good girl, they deserve to be friends and you know they’d get along if given the chance.

Joyce cradles El’s head and greets her with tears, and the girl responds the same. After they’ve hugged, El pulls away, her tears now ones of worry. “Can I see him?”

Joyce’s eyes flash to you, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing: it’s no coincidence that El arrived when she did. You think about what Dustin and the kids deciphered in morse code, Will’s hidden message. 

Close the gate. 

El is the only person you know can do it. 

“Go take her to him,” you tell Joyce. “I’ll catch everyone else up.”

The woman nods, her eyes appreciative, before gently guiding El towards Will’s room. 

“I’m assuming I’m ‘everyone’.” Steve says as soon as Joyce and El have left. 

You laugh, finally rejoining his side. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright, catch me up then. Who was the girl and why does she have a bloody nose problem?”

“Her name is Eleven, or El. Besides the Demogorgon, and Demodogs, did we ever discuss El?”

Nancy speaks up from the corner, timid. “I, uh… Didn’t tell Steve a lot. We kinda just, we–we didn’t ever really–”

“I never let Nancy explain, and I was too afraid to ask.” Steve kindly saves Nancy, and something both you and Jonathan take note of. 

“Well,” you clap your hands, dispelling away any remaining tension for both your sake and the kids’ sakes. “El has these powers, she can make things move with her mind, and when she uses them she gets nose bleeds.”

Steve stares at you. “Okay…”

“Mhm. It’s just as insane as it sounds. Remember the whole Upside Down story Dustin and I told you about yesterday? Well, she can travel there and has a connection to it. With her mind. Somehow. I don’t actually know the logistics of it.”

“You’re doing great, bug.” Jonathan’s voice drips with sarcasm, but Dustin hits his chest to shut him up. 

“Thanks, Dustin. Anyways, El has these insane powers and she’s the sweetest, softest person I’ve ever met. We…” your voice trails off now, still getting used to the fact that she’s alive. “We thought we lost her last year, when she killed the Demogorgon and helped bring Will back.”

“But she’s alive.” Steve concludes. 

You nod, a natural smile spreading across your face. “She is.”

“If you say she’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, then I definitely believe you.”

Steve’s words make you blush, the pure and honest way he says them, and both Dustin and Jonathan cringe. The two boys share a look, both for once on the same page in a long time, and make gagging motions. 

You see this and flick both of their heads. “I know where you both sleep.”

Both boys stick their tongue out at you, and for a moment everything feels normal. Jonathan and Dustin are teasing you, Jonathan’s eyes are lit up, and your brother is carefree again. 

Then Joyce returns to the living room with El and the mood becomes somber again. 

They stand over the kitchen table, El stares down at the piece of paper with the “close gate” on it, and Joyce asks the question you’ve all been wondering. “You opened this gate before, right?”

“Yes,” the girl responds as you and everyone else now join her and Joyce. 

“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?”

El looks between you and Joyce, her gaze stony and resigned. You wonder what else she’s gone through to put such a void within her; like all the other kids, she no longer has a sweet naivety to her.

Then, slowly, El nods. 

– 

“It’s not like it was before. It’s grown. A lot.” Everyone stands in the kitchen, circling around Hopper as he explains exactly what the gate now is. “I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”

You grab Dustin’s shirt and yank harshly at it. “Don’t you dare–”

“Demodogs.”

Hopper looks at him, sighing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Please just ignore him.” You plead with the officer, knowing he’s already in a bitchy mood. 

Dustin doesn’t pick up on the anger, though. “I said, uh… Demodogs. Like Demogorgon and dogs.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, rubbing at your temples. You’ve heard this explanation of the word play a million times within the last twenty-four hours. If you have to hear Dustin explain what Demodog means one more time, you think you may murder the kid.

Dustin, unfortunately, continues. “You put them together… it sounds pretty badass–”

“How is this important right now?” Hopper snaps at the boy, which only makes you more annoyed. 

You put your hand up at the old man, closing your fingers together to mimic a mouth being shut. “One more aggressive comment to the thirteen year old and I will show you that Nancy isn’t the only one who can shoot a gun.”

“Uh, Y/N…” Jonathan nervously mumbles, unsure what Hopper’s reaction may be. 

However, the chief simply raises an eyebrow at you, stares you down for a few seconds, before finally seeming to decide that he’s impressed with your bold comment. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“I can do it.” El suddenly voices from the other end of the table.

“You’re not hearing me.” Hopper’s shoulders slump. You can tell by his now defeated stance that he has yet to win an argument against El, something that you’re incredibly proud of her for. 

“I’m hearing you. I can do it.”

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike speaks up, looking around the table to ensure everyone is listening. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

Max frowns. “I thought that was the whole point.”

“It is, but if we’re really right about this…”

“Will,” you breathe out quietly with dread, understanding where Mike is going with this.

Mike continues explaining. “I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army–”

“Will’s a part of that army.” Lucas finishes as he looks over at you, now knowing why you’ve just exhaled the boy’s name with grief. 

“Closing the gate will kill him.” 

Jonathan tenses at Mike’s words, and you place your hand against the back of his neck in a grounding manner. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your hand, even from this position, and you play with his hair to try and soothe him. 

He’s terrified of what may happen to his little brother, once again struck with pure terror that he could lose him. You’re not sure how many more times Jonathan can grieve his brother without losing a piece of himself.

Steve, standing on your other side, sees the way your fingers intertwine in Jonathan’s hair. The same way they did earlier with his own hair as you hugged him.

He frowns, looking away. 

Everyone else falls silent as well, Mike’s words hang in the air. Your gaze shifts to Joyce, who has a deep frown on her face, and before you ask her what she’s thinking, she stands up from the table. “Follow me.”

No one says anything as you all follow the woman to Jonathan’s room, where Will lays motionless on top of the bed you’ve slept in for years. His body is stiff, the hospital gown swallows him, and the sight disturbs you. 

You walk over to the boy and kneel next to the bed. It’s in your nature to take care of Will, you do this without even thinking about it. Stroking his forehead, you place a kiss against it as you watch his mom in the doorway.

“He likes it cold.” Joyce mumbles, eying the open window in the room. 

“What?” Asks Hopper, standing behind the woman. 

Joyce looks over at her son now. “It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” Then, as her voice grows stronger, she walks over to the window and slams it shut. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

Nancy and Jonathan walk over to you now, the girl remains standing while Jonathan kneels down next to you. The two of you take turns caressing Will’s forehead as Nancy starts to speak. “If this thing is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…”

“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable.” 

You turn to Jonathan, not at all liking what he’s saying. “What does that even mean? He’s a kid, how do you make a child’s body uninhabitable?”

“He likes it cold.” Nancy says, as if that explains everything. 

“But–”

Joyce clenches her jaw and spits out, “We need to burn it out of him.”

Everything about what Joyce has said makes your stomach twist. You look down at Will’s body, at how small he still is despite a year of trying to get him to recover, and his pale skin is almost translucent in the bedroom’s lighting. 

You hate everything about what’s happening, but you hate the way Will looks lifeless even more. 

If making his body uninhabitable can save him, then you have to try; you’ll simply be there to pick up the pieces when it’s done, as you always are. 

The kids begin planning now.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time.” Mike says. 

“Yeah, somewhere far away.” Dustin adds on. 

“Last I checked, none of us have a hidden hut in the woods.” You say, at a loss for where else to possibly take Will. Then, Hopper clears his throat and shifts his weight. “Oh, no fucking way. You would have a hidden hut in the woods.”

“It’s a cabin.” Hopper corrects with annoyance, though there’s a slight glint in his eye as he looks at you. “Joyce and Jonathan will take Will there.”

“Well, go show them the cabin, then.”

Jonathan grabs your hand. “You’re not coming with?”

As if there’s a string tugging at the back of your head, you turn around and catch Steve’s eye. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes alert yet sad, and you know with everything within you that you can’t leave him behind. 

Not when he was shaking in your arms only twenty minutes prior. 

Steve doesn’t want to be alone, especially not when you’d be leaving him behind with Nancy after it’s become clear that she’s with Jonathan now. 

Now, as Jonathan’s open and expecting eyes stare into yours, you do something you’ve never done before. Something you’ve needed to do ever since you were twelve and grabbed the boy’s hand on the Wheeler’s porch that fateful night.

You let go of Jonathan. 

“I can’t,” you tell him, the words of denial feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve never told him no before, never left him behind, but saying the words isn’t as difficult as you once feared. “I’ll stay with the kids, I’m better with them anyways.”

Jonathan watches you, his eyes trace over your face again and again as if drinking it in for the very last time. When he seems to find what he’s looking for, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay.”

His understanding of everything you don’t say almost makes you take it all back, but you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hand and nod towards Nancy. “Why don’t you take Nance?”

Something shifts when you say this, you know Jonathan feels it as well. There’s an ease within the shift, almost akin to a soft exhale in December’s cold. It parts you with a gentle farewell, strokes your cheek as it departs, and you can faintly see its outline as it floats away. 

A thread, one that has tugged within your chest in a painful ache since last year, finally loosens. 

Nancy looks at you, her eyes wide. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you nod at the girl, a kind smile on your face. 

It’s a monumental shift, you’re willingly encouraging Nancy to be next to Jonathan’s side rather than you. It’s an exchange of powers, trusting her to take care of the boy you love so dearly. 

For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re tearing off a piece of yourself. Instead, you’re simply sharing the weight of it, of this trust, rather than losing it.

“I… I think I’ll stay here.” Nancy finally says, looking away in shame.

You don’t blame her, you know she carries a weight of guilt within her for things she couldn’t control. There’s a lot you want to say to her, a lot you have to say to her, but for now you simply nod at her, understanding. “Then I’m happy you’re here.”

And you mean it.

Steve, still quietly standing in the doorway, sees everything. He felt the shift, too.

– 

“You should go with him.” Steve picks up a spare heater, he and Nancy have been sent outside to retrieve whatever they could find from the Byers’ yard. 

The shift weighs heavily upon him. Your words ring in his ears. 

Nancy spares Steve a glance. “What?”

“With Jonathan.” He bends down to dig through some old Christmas lights, and seeing them reminds him of you. Everything reminds him of you. “Y/N’s right. You should go with him.”

“No, I–” Nancy scoffs, uncomfortable. “I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve thinks about you, about how you’re always the one who stays. “No one’s leaving anyone.” He walks over to Nancy and helps her with a radiator she’s struggling with. “I may be a shitty boyfriend, but… I realized I’m actually a pretty damn good friend and babysitter.”

Though he never says your name, Nancy can feel it hang over the two of them. The unspoken confession that it’s because of you that Steve now accepts what has happened between them. It strikes her then, how different he is now. How differently you and the girl came to know Steve.

Nancy stares at him, her eyes are filled with more remorse than he’s ever seen from the girl. It hurts, seeing her so upset, and he wishes that things could’ve been different. He recognizes now that they didn’t stand a chance, though he’s happy they tried anyways. It was always going to end like this between them.

Steve doesn’t hold any anger towards her, he doesn’t hate her, because he still loves her. 

How could you possibly fault the person you love for finding their own love?

“Steve…” His name comes through as an apology.

“It’s okay, Nance.” Steve means it, he gives her the same blessing that you did. She’s allowed to be happy, you both want her to be happy, and you have each other to lean on now. “Y/N and I will be okay.”

He leaves Nancy standing there.

– 

You’re waiting to say goodbye to El, standing patiently behind Mike as the two of them make promises about coming back. It’s sweet, watching them, until they slowly start to lean in for what you fear is a kiss, so you intervene. 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but I’d like to say goodbye to El, too.”

Mike glares at you. “Couldn’t wait five seconds?”

“A five second kiss is shameful, Wheeler.”

El giggles softly and pulls you into a hug. “I will be careful.”

You kiss her cheek. “Come back this time, okay?”

“I will.” 

Hopper calls the girl over to get in the car so they can leave, and you quickly run over to Jonathan’s car before he can get in. 

When he sees you approaching, he extends his arms out and pulls you in as he always does. No words are needed, he simply holds you so that you’re chest to chest and he can feel every breath you take. “I’ll come home to you.”

You bury your face in his neck, inhale the scent you’ve come to associate with your childhood and warm, sunny days. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The words ease between the two of you, finally warm after months of being cold. 

Nancy then appears, and when you notice her you break away from Jonathan. “I see you’re joining?”

“I am.” She nods. “Seems I have you to thank.”

You smile and grab her hand. Your grip is firm, but sincere. “Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Your words are teasing, but Nancy senses the undertones of a warning. Jonathan is your best friend, she has always known this, and she knows how much weight has gone into your trust for her. Nancy understands that you’re giving her something precious to you, and she will forever be indebted for it. 

“I won’t.” She promises. “And good luck with Steve and the kids.”

“Oh, I’ll need it.” You laugh, and any remaining tension that has hung over you and Nancy finally disappears. 

Once Jonathan and Nancy get into the car, you stand on the porch with Steve and everyone else as you watch the cars drive away. 

– 

 You poke around the Byers’ kitchen for some food; your stomach has been rumbling for hours and you’re sure the kids are hungry, too. However, like usual, you come up with nothing. As you dig through a cabinet, Dustin walks into the kitchen and starts clearing out the fridge. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing that this can’t be for anything good. 

Dustin doesn’t answer, continuing to carelessly throw racks of food onto the floor.

“Hey, stop!” As you walk over, Steve suddenly comes rushing in, holding a very dead, and very disgusting, Demodog. 

“Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely not.” 

Dustin groans at you. “C’mon, Y/N! This is absolutely necessary, it’s a groundbreaking scientific discovery.”

“It is a dead creature, from an alternate universe–” 

“We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog–”

“Oh, so now it’s not a dog after you’ve stated a million times that it’s a Demodog–”

Steve steps in between you and Dustin. “Alright, alright, enough!” He begins to shove the Demodog into the fridge before you can stop him. “But Dustin, you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers, alright?”

“You both are idiots,” you mumble, watching as Steve and Dustin pathetically try to make the giant Demodog fit into the fridge. “I’m leaving.”

You’re seriously starting to regret their friendship. 

However, you know when to pick your battles, and as you watch the two boys try to maneuver the body into the fridge, you know that this is not a cause worth fighting for. 

Instead, you exit the kitchen and instruct the rest of the kids to start cleaning the house. It’s a mess, glass shattered everywhere from the dead Demodog and papers thrown haphazardly around during the morse decoding. 

The mess will only add more unneeded stress to Joyce’s life, so as Lucas and Max groan at you for making them do work, you stand your ground and shove a broom into their hands. 

“You suck, you know.” Lucas grumbles, but Max hits his shoulder and holds the dust pan as he sweeps.

As they get to work on the shattered glass, you figure it’s best that you call your mom before you forget again. You know she’s probably worried sick about you and Dustin for disappearing so suddenly without a word. 

However, when you walk over to the wall where the phone normally is, it’s gone. 

“Hey, uh. Where did the phone go?” You ask Dustin, who has finally left the kitchen. “I need to call mom.”

“Oh, Nancy threw it when it rang. She went kinda berserk.”

You look towards where Dustin is pointing and see the phone, in fact disconnected, on the ground across the room. The sight makes you snort. “Guess she really likes throwing phones, huh?”

Your brother doesn’t understand the joke. “What?”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head. There’s no use explaining to the boy about a quick, five second moment from last year. Nancy had done the exact same thing when Steve had tried to call the cops when the Demogorgon originally attacked you. 

Dustin mumbles something about your blood loss making you delusional, but you ignore him and begin sweeping the hallway. You order him to help, and soon the two of you are cleaning the Byers’ home. 

You’ve just finished sweeping when you notice Mike pacing around the room. He’s anxious, that much is obvious, and whenever he begins to pace: trouble soon follows. He’s brewing up a plan, you can feel it. 

After the fifth time the boy has paced the room, Lucas has finally had enough. “Mike, would you just stop already?”

“You weren’t in there, okay Lucas?” Mike stops pacing. “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”

“Demodogs–oomph!” Dustin corrects, only to be cut off by your hand clamping over his mouth. 

“Say it again, I dare you.” You warn him before turning towards Mike. “Look, I know it’s nerve wracking, but all we can do right now is trust El’s abilities and wait.”

Lucas nods. “Yeah, the chief will also take care of her.”

“Like she needs protection.” Max quips from the floor, dustpan still in hand.

You feel a hand place itself on the small of your back. The weight of the palm is starting to become familiar to you, the length of the fingers and the way they splay across the span of your back are slowly becoming recognizable. 

Without turning, you know that Steve has joined you. 

“Listen, dude,” he says in a placating voice to Mike. “A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?”

You wince. While you’re impressed that Steve is trying to intervene and reason with Mike, you know immediately that his approach will fail. Trying to reason with the kid using a sport analogy is like trying to explain magic to a mathematician. 

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike rolls his eyes, which you expected. “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“RIght! So–so my point… My point is…” Steve stumbles over his words and Mike’s unwavering insistence. When he can’t think of a better response, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, we’re on the bench, so–uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

You pity Steve, honestly. It takes years of careful analyzing and strategic planning in order to prepare yourself for an argument against Mike Wheeler. 

Patting his shoulder, step in to help. “What I’m sure Steve means is that while we may be benched, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the homefront secure.”

“That’s not how sports work, Y/N.” Steve whispers obscenely loud, but quickly shuts up when you glare at him.

“Stupid sports analogy aside, there’s nothing we can do besides keep watch here and wait for everyone to return.” Even though you know you’re saying the right thing, that it’s best you follow Hopper’s order of staying put, even you don’t believe the words you’re saying. “We may not be able to help right now, but later, I promise we will be the best damn homefront ever.”

Dustin clears his throat. “That’s not entirely true.”

You turn to him and a sigh escapes you when you see the plan already forming behind his eyes. “I can’t argue with you, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Great, go on then. Share with the class what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind.” Dustin begins. “When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

Lucas thinks about this. “So if we get their attention…”  

“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.” Max concludes, and you take a second to marvel at how seamlessly she’s integrated herself into the party.

However, you then remember what Lucas said. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘get their attention’? Why do those words scare me so much?”

Mike talks over you. “We can clear a path to the gate.”

You have a multitude of questions and Steve seems to be thinking exactly what you are when he loudly exclaims, “Yeah, and then we all die!”

“That’s one point of view.”

“Dustin, that’s quite literally the only way to look at it.” You flick his hat and he swats your hand away.

Steve points at you, nodding in agreement. “That’s a fact.”

“Thanks, Steve–” Mike’s body slams into yours as he runs past you. “Christ, Wheeler!”

“I got it!” The boy shrieks, running out of the room as he wordlessly instructs everyone to follow. He kneels in front of the fridge and points wildly at one of the pictures Will has drawn. “This is where the chief dug his hole, this is our way into the tunnel.”

“Into? What do you mean into?”

Mike shoves past you again and runs into the living room. “Here, right here.” He stands in the middle, where all the pictures have interlocked together to form a center. “This is like a hub. So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Fire?” You shriek as Steve quickly follows with, “Oh, yeah that’s a no!”

Dustin, however, is on board with what Mike is planning. “The mind flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas waves his arms madly at you, as if saying this will get you to agree to the plan that’s forming.

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Look, I recognize that we could maybe do something–”

“Hey!” Steve looks astonished that you’re even considering this. 

“I mean, if we can help then I don’t see why we can’t just–”

Mike shakes your arm now, deciding that your hesitation is an agreement. “We then can circle back to the exit! By the time they realize we’re gone–”

“El would be at the gate!” Max now also is looking at you. “C’mon, Y/N. You have to admit that it’s a solid plan.”

You bite your lip. It is. That’s the problem with the Wheelers. They come up with these insanely dangerous and insane plans, yet they’re also always brilliant. You know it’s risky, Hopper could barely even explain the tunnels to you without shaking in fear, but… Who’s to say that the Demodogs won’t simply go after Will and Jonathan at the cabin? Or kill Hopper and El before they even reach the lab.

It’s obvious you can’t just sit here and wait. 

El has to close the gate, that much is certain, and because of this: you have to help her. You have to help everyone, keep them safe. 

“It’s a solid plan,” you finally breathe out, and all the kids start to cheer.

“I knew you were my favorite sister!”

“Dustin, I’m your only sister–”

“Hey! Hey–” Steve pushes himself in between you and the kids, clapping his hands to break up any further conversations. “Hey! This is not happening.”

Mike tries to argue, “But–”

“No, no, no!” Steve places his hands on his hips like a disgruntled father. “No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

You don’t like the way Steve is speaking to the kids, commanding them as if he’s their parent. “Hey, no. We aren’t doing that.”

“Doing what?” He looks at you, eyes wide as he quickly gathers that he’s upset you. The fight in his voice is gone, replaced with quiet guilt.

“We don’t ever command the kids, not like that, anyways.” You step away from them and pull Steve aside with you to give the two of you some privacy. “Look, I know you promised Nance you’d take care of them, but I also promised Jonathan. We have to help, Steve.”

His face twists with confliction, and the two of you are caught between what Nancy wants and what Jonathan wants. They both want the kids to be safe, but they have different viewpoints of how they expect you and Steve to do so.

Nancy wants to keep her brother out of it, Jonathan wants to save his brother’s life. 

“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, begging you to change your mind. 

The confliction on his face hurts to look at, you hate that you’ve made him feel this way, but you can only shake your head at him. “I’m sorry, but we’re doing this.”

“Yes!” Mike rushes over to you and surprises you with a hug. “This is why I keep you around!”

“Okay, no.” You push the kid away and hold him by the shoulders to ensure he listens to you. “That doesn’t mean I think we should all go down into the tunnels. I’ll go, and Steve will stay here with you guys–”

“What? No! You’re not going down there by yourself, Y/N.” Steve doesn’t understand how you would expect him to ever let you do that. “We’re all on the bench, okay? We’re waiting for the starting team to do their job.”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game.” Mike groans in annoyance before focusing his attention back to you. “And no one in the party gets left behind. If you go, we all go.”

The sincerity in Mike’s voice warms you. He’s defending you, protecting you how you’ve always protected him, and you’ve never been more impressed with his bravery; it’s because of this, his bravery and admiration for you, that you know you have to go into the tunnels alone. 

It would kill you if Mike got hurt, if any of the kids got hurt. 

Steve sees the way your eyes shine at Mike’s words and his stomach twists. He knows he can’t change your mind about going alone, he knows you’d never, ever let anyone get hurt. That you’d lay down your life for these kids and those you love. 

The bloodied cloth wrapped around your rib cage reminds Steve that he’s a part of it all now. You have laid down your life for him.

And he’s never, ever going to let you get hurt because of him again. 

Steve steps forward and gently grabs your arm, he needs you to understand how much your selflessness terrifies him in this moment. “Y/N–”

The revving of an engine cuts him off. 

It’s a familiar sound. You’ve heard this car before. The sound of it has seared itself into your memories. The hair on your arms stands up, and within seconds Max is at the window, looking out in fear. 

“It’s my brother.” Max’s voice is terrified. Not even in the junkyard, when Demodogs had been raining down on you and the kids, had you heard such terror in the girl’s voice. “He can’t know I’m here.”

You’re at her side in a heartbeat, tugging her away from the window. You’ve seen the way Billy acts around Max, you remember the harshness he displayed in the parking lot. The same harshness that left bruises on your waist when he had you pinned against the wall on Halloween. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Your words have a bite to them. Max hears the oath within them, she has never believed anyone when they’ve told her this. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

“He won’t.” You promise her, trying to control the pure rage you feel because of her brother. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but he’s hurt Max for the last time. 

Steve watches your exchange with Max and feels his hands clench into fists. Anger fizzes through his body. As you console the girl, your eyes meet his and he nods. With one simple head movement, the two of you have silently agreed to do whatever it takes to ensure that Billy never hurts Max ever again. 

–

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

You’re standing behind Steve. 

Billy hasn’t seen you yet. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve’s hand tightens around your arm as he guides you further behind him. He doesn’t like that you’re here with him. He hates the way Billy’s eyes roam over your body without any shame. 

But you insisted on coming outside, and Steve has never been able to tell you no. 

You step out from behind Steve and force your hands to rest by your side in nonchalance. “God, I was hoping you’d be allergic to milk.”

Billy raises his eyebrows when he sees you; you’ve surprised him. “Why, it’s always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s clenched fists only tighten when he hears Billy’s nickname for you. He hates the implications behind it, the way he says it with such sickly sweetness that leaves Steve’s stomach feeling raw. 

He can’t imagine how you feel whenever you hear it, and it only makes Steve hate Billy more. 

“It’s never a pleasure for me.” You cross your arms as Billy now stands in front of you and Steve.

The teen laughs darkly and eyes Steve up and down. “What are you doing here, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing… Amigo.” His voice carries an air of indifference, but you know that tomorrow there will be indentations in Steve’s palms from his fingernails. 

“Looking for my stepsister.” Billy lights a cigarette and smirks at you. “A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”

Billy smirks at Steve’s words and motions over to you. “Yeah, but this little lady does.”

“Max isn’t here.” You say, forcing your anger down to play along with Steve’s indifference. “Have you checked the quarry? A lot of kids like to hang out there.”

Smoke surrounds you as Billy responds, “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Henderson.”

With every dodged question, you’re only angering the teen more. If you and Steve keep this up, you’ll only make everything harder to manage. You try to think of something to distract Billy, but all you know about him is that he’s a sleazy pig with a cigarette addiction. 

Then, it hits you. 

His weird fascination with you. 

If you use it against him, maybe you can get him away from the Byers’ house long enough for Steve and the kids to leave. 

You step closer to Billy, ignoring every part of you that screams in rejection. You’re covered in blood and your hair is probably a mess, but you bat your eyelashes anyways and quirk your head up at Billy with an innocent smile. “I could show you, if you want.”

Just as you hoped, your sudden interest in him catches Billy’s attention. He presses his chest against yours and looks down at you, a pleased smile on his face. “And what would you be showing me, sweetheart?”

“The quarry, silly.” You giggle, trying not to gag at the reek of cigarette smoke. “It’s secluded… No one really goes down there. It’s, well–this is embarrassing.”

You duck your head down and act as if you’re blushing. Billy takes the bait and uses his fingers to lift your head up to look at him again. “Go on, tell me.”

You make a show of biting your lip. “Well, it’s where every teen in Hawkins goes to… Be alone.”

Billy’s eyes darken again, even more interested in what you have to say. He leans down, his lips inches from yours, and you know you have him right where you want him. 

Please, you think. I just want to protect the kids.

His breath fans across your face and he’s about to agree, to have you lead him away and forget all about his bitch of a sister, when Steve roughly pushes him away from you. 

“Max isn’t here, man.” He spits out, his once controlled anger now spilling over the edge. 

You want to scream at him, you almost had Billy. He was seconds away from agreeing, and the stupid idiot pushes him away from you? 

Billy looks between you and Steve and lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry, Harrington. Forgot that she’s yours.”

Steve moves as if to hit him but you quickly grab at his jacket, stopping him. Billy sees this and laughs again. 

“You know, I don’t know… This whole situation, Harrington.” He shrugs, exhales more smoke. “I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” 

You’re silent, hand still clutching Steve’s jacket. 

Billy exhales more smoke. “My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger’s house, alongside Y/N Henderson, the town’s darling, all bloodied and bruised. And you lie to me about it.”

From an outsider’s perspective, you hate how much Billy makes sense. 

To anyone else, this would look incredibly incriminating against Steve.

Yet, Steve still tries to deny it all. “Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?”

“I’m assuming he was.” You voice, looking nervously at Billy as he seems to grow more and more volatile. 

“I don’t know what you don’t understand about what Y/N and I have told you. Max isn’t here.”

Billy leans in close to Steve and points with his cigarette towards the house. “Then who is that?”

You and Steve turn, and your heart drops when you see Max and the boys all quickly duck their heads out of the window.

“Shit,” you breathe out, knowing it’s over.

You really hate those kids sometimes.

“Listen,” Steve tries to make up some excuse, but Billy roughly shoves him to the ground.

“I told you to plant your feet.” Bully sneers as he looms over him. You try to help Steve up, but you’re pushed aside as Billy then stomps on Steve’s ankle with a sickening crunch that makes your own wounded ankle sting.

As he storms towards the house, you quickly help Steve up, He pushes you away. “I’ll be fine, go help the kids!”

“But–”

You can’t just leave Steve while he’s hurt, but every time you try to help him up, he bats your hand away.

“Go!”

From inside the house, you hear the kids start to scream, and you reluctantly leave Steve behind and run inside. When you enter, Billy already has Lucas pinned against the wall as all the kids scream at him to let the boy go. Lucas is hitting at the teen’s chest desperately, but nothing is working. 

“Stay away from her.” Billy spits in the boy’s face, who is paralyzed with fear.

“Lucas!” You all but throw yourself onto Billy’s back as you begin hitting and pulling his hair. Anything you can think of, you try, but it’s no use. With Billy’s size and build, you’re nothing but a fucking bug to him. 

“I said get off of me!” Lucas kneels Billy in the groin, sending you and the teen flying back, but at least he’s let go of Lucas. 

You let go of Billy and place yourself between him and the boy, your breath comes out ragged. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing. All your mind can think of right now is protecting the kids, but in the midst of screaming and exhaustion and blood loss, you can’t think of anything. 

Billy tries to get to Lucas again, his teeth bared with fury. “You’re so dead, Sinclair. So dead!” 

In your exhaustion and fear, you call out for the only person you can think of. “Steve!”

He’s at your side in a heartbeat, quickly looking at you to make sure you’re okay, before he flings Billy away from you and Lucas. “No, you are!”

Steve’s punch lands perfectly, with a precision far from his pathetic punches thrown last year against Jonathan. It’s incredibly hot.

Billy begins to laugh in a manic manner that frightens you, but all of his attention is now on Steve, so you use this opportunity to drag Lucas over to the rest of the kids and make sure everyone is okay. 

You trust that Steve has everything else handled, but you make sure to keep an eye on him anyways while you take care of the kids. 

“Are you okay?” You check Lucas over for any injuries, who numbly nods as he’s still in shock, while Billy screams something about always wanting to meet King Steve. 

“Get out.” Despite Steve’s leveled voice, his tone is vicious. 

Billy swings again, but Steve manages to duck just in time before he lands yet another punch to the boy’s face. 

“Yes!” Dustin shouts with glee, but you remember the fight from last year. How Steve had lost miserably against Jonathan. A boy half of Billy’s size. 

While you’re impressed with Steve’s fighting improvement, you’re not sure how longer he’ll be able to keep this up. When more punches land on Billy and all he does is laugh menacingly, you know you don’t have a lot of time left.

You’re fucking terrified. 

The kids are still cheering Steve on when you turn to them, panicked. “You guys need to leave. Now.”

“What? But Steve’s winning!” Dustin says as Steve’s fist connects with Billy’s jaw. 

The sound makes you feel sick. 

You’re pleading now, terror clawing at your throat as you do so; your words slur together. “Leave, sneak out, and–and go through the front door and hide. Get help, okay? Just, go and find someone while Steve and I handle this–”

The sound of glass breaking against Steve’s head alerts you that your time is up. 

Billy hadn't been fighting back before. But now? He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. 

As Steve stumbles back in pain, you try pleading with the kids again. You don’t want them to see any more of this, of what might be about to happen. This isn’t just some fight between two teen boys. You know Billy better than that. 

He’s out for fucking blood. 

“Dustin, take everyone outside now!”

“We can’t just leave you!” Mike shouts and the others all nod. 

You want to cry. “We don’t have time for this, just–”

“Shit!” Dustin knocks against you as he dodges a punch meant for Steve. 

Steve crashes into the Byers’ bookshelf and you’re practically shoving the kids out of the door so that you can go and help, but they refuse to leave you and Steve behind. 

Billy has Steve by his jacket. “No one tells me what to do.”

With a sickening thud, he bashes his head into Steve’s and sends him flying to the ground. 

“Steve!” There’s blood pooling from his head and you’re gripped by fear so intense that you’re afraid you’ll pass out any second. 

Billy is relentless, now standing over Steve as he lands punch after punch. Every time his fists slam against Steve’s face, you feel them land against yours as well. Billy’s screaming like a fucking maniac and none of the kids are listening to you and Steve is getting bloodier by the second.

You’re torn. 

Dustin and the kids are staring at you, eyes wide with fear, and the front door is open; you could take the kids and run, but Steve is lying motionless on the ground.

It’s either him or the kids.

And yet it’s the easiest decision you’ve made all night.

“Get off of him!” You throw yourself onto Billy’s back for the second time tonight. 

You yank at his hair and try to scratch his face, but within seconds Billy throws you over his shoulder. “You demented bitch.”

Your head catches on the edge of a coffee table and you land with a thud on the ground. Almost immediately you feel blood drip from your eyebrow and you groan. Fuck. Definitely another concussion, but when you look over at Steve, he looks worse than you feel, and you force yourself to get up. 

Billy watches as you pathetically try to stand, and he laughs with cruelty. “What, want some more, sweetheart?”

More blood drips down your face and you feel the scratches on your rib cage re-open. Every bone in your body aches, but you pull out your switchblade and extend its knives. Your fingers skim over the engraving on its handle, reminding you to use the weapon with love. 

“This is your last chance.” You clutch at your side, hoping you look more intimidating than you feel. “Leave my family alone.”

Billy sees your knives and laughs at you. “Am I expected to believe that you’d actually hurt me?”

Your grip tightens around your switchblade. No one ever believes that you could be so cruel, so vicious. Billy is looking at you as if you’re some pathetic little girl, as if you haven’t killed Demodogs and Demogorgons. He’s looking at you as if you aren’t the sole reason everyone you know and love is alive.

You were once told to use the switchblade with love, that there was never any room for love when it came to violence. 

Now, as the kids are screaming at you to run and the pool of blood around Steve continues to grow, the onslaught of love that is always within you overtakes the fear. 

“I warned you.” With one quick movement, you swat at Billy and cut deeply into his shoulder.

He lets out an enraged scream and instinctively his fist goes flying. Pain erupts in your left eye and you know that you’ll have the worst time ever trying to explain to your mom later how you got a black eye. 

“Fuck!” You groan, dodging every other punch that Billy throws your way as he starts to approach you. With one eye quickly swelling up and the other blinded by blood, you do your best to stumble away from Billy, but it’s no use. 

Your foot catches on the carpet and almost as quickly as you fall, Billy is right there to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze. You inhale sharply and panic overtakes you as you claw at his hands, drawing blood from him as well, but his fingers only tighten. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s vocal chords strain from how loud he screams your name.

Billy seems to get a kick out of hearing your brother plead for your life, and he squeezes even tighter as you flail. “Not so tough now, are you?”

You struggle to free yourself, to do anything, but you can’t. 

For the first time since Will went missing, you truly believe that you’re about to die.

Steve is practically dead on the ground below you, he’s bleeding so much from his head that you’re terrified he’ll never wake up, and the kids are defenseless as they scream with tears in their eyes. 

Your baby brother is about to watch you die. 

Spots begin to form in your vision and it’s getting harder and harder to move your limbs. To make them do as you command. 

You know it’s your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen. 

I hope Jonathan doesn’t blame himself.

Your world fades to black. 

Billy screams.

And you feel your body drop to the ground.

– 

The first time you wake up, it’s to Dustin huffing as he tugs at your arm. “God, you’re heavier than you look.”

You promptly pass back out. 

The second time, it’s dark outside and you register that you’re cold, but your eyes sting and you’re out again.

You wake up a few more times, always in a daze, and never more for a few seconds at a time, before the feeling that you’re moving wakes you up for good. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, your left eye barely even opens, and the pounding in your head is blinding in itself. Blinking a few times, you look down and finally notice that Steve is sprawled on your lap. You’re in the backseat of someone’s car. 

Your head is resting against someone’s shoulder. When you try to lift it to see who it is, you feel someone gently guide your head back down. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, alright? Don’t want you yacking on us.”

“Dustin?” You immediately regret trying to speak. Your voice comes out hoarse and raw and the pain is so intense that it only makes your head pound more.

“Right here, sis. Try not to speak, you sound like a frog.”

You try to sit up again, forgetting that Steve is sprawled on top of you, and your movements cause him to wake up. When his eyes manage to blink open, he tilts his head at you and mumbles, “Nancy?”

“Wha–” Again your voice cracks and you feel so delirious. Are you Nancy?

Steve attempts to wipe away the blood on his face but Dustin stops him with a gentle chiding. “No, don’t touch it.”

Steve brings a shaky hand up to your face and carefully rests it against your cheek. “You’re… You’re bleeding.”

Dustin puts the hand down. “Hey, buddy. Y/N is bleeding, good job. You’re bleeding, too. It’s okay though, you put up a good fight. I mean, he kicked your ass but you put up a good fight.”

Your brother’s words ring in your ears. He’s saying so much and you’re trying to swallow down the vomit that threatens to spill out. 

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” A voice rings out, one different from Dustin’s. 

Was that Lucas?

“What’s going on?” Steve slurs, trying to process everything happening. He blearily looks back up at you. “Who’s driving?”

“Not me,” you manage to croak out.

A beat of silence passes. 

Then, at the same time, you and Steve realize: Max is the one driving. 

You’re more awake now and you try to say more, but your throat has swollen shut from speaking and it feels like it’s on fire. 

Thankfully, Steve is here to say everything you can’t. “Oh my god!”

“Just relax, she’s driven before.” Dustin reassures, slapping your hand away when you try to reach over to the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike says, and you notice he’s also here now. 

“That counts.”

You want to scream at Max to pull over and demand the keys from her, but your bruised throat prevents you while your bleeding rib cage traps you in. While you can’t say anything, all Steve can say is, “Oh my god.”

“They were gonna leave you guys behind–”

“Oh my god.”

“But I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” Again Dustin slaps your hand away and all but shoves his leg over you so that you remain seated. 

Max then presses down on the gas pedal and the car increases its speed, which only makes the entire situation worse. 

Steve, rightfully, freaks out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s going on? Stop the car, slow down!”

You twist in your seat and blindly grab at Steve’s hand, both thanking him for voicing all that you can’t and also to try and prevent the poor boy from passing out again. 

“I told you he’d freak out! At least Y/N shut up!” Mike shouts over at Dustin. 

While you’re flattered that you’re officially cooler than Steve in Mike’s eyes, if you had a functioning throat right now, you’d be letting out some very choice words. 

“Stop the car!” Steve screams again, but the little rainbow bandaids on his cheek take away from his commanding nature. 

You hope that Dustin at least chose some pretty bandaids for your face. 

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Again, Max doesn’t at all help the situation at hand. 

“Wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas points to where Max needs to go and you wonder why they trusted the girl, who just moved to Hawkins a week ago, to know where to go. 

“What?”

“Make a left!” Lucas screams, and Max quickly yanks the car to the left.

You, Steve, and the kids all scream as she hits what you hope is a mailbox. As the car jerks, you topple onto Steve and let out a painful, weird mix of a croak and shriek as the car continues to turn. Dustin tries to steady himself against you as he screams and Steve fully grabs your waist and uses you to shield himself from danger.

What a hero. 

Then, you almost go flying out of the windshield as Max suddenly stops the car. 

“Hello!” Steve exclaims, gripping you tightly still. 

Dustin giggles. “Whoa!”

“Incredible,” Mike breathes out. 

Meanwhile, you think your heart fell out of your ass about five blocks ago. 

“I told you. Zoomer.” Max smirks with pride. 

“She terrifies me,” you whisper, and Steve nods in agreement. 

The kids begin getting out of the car and seem to have some unspoken plan being set into motion. Dustin pats your shoulder before leaving you behind with Steve as the others go towards the trunk. 

Not knowing what the fuck is happening, you kick Steve so that he falls off of you and onto the grass so that you can follow after your brother. When you get out the car, you march over towards where all the kids are standing and silently demand an explanation. 

Mike notices you first. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You refrain from shoving his face in the mud and point towards the goggles he’s holding. He sighs and hands it to you while Dustin ties a bandana around your neck and Max grabs a gallon of gasoline. 

Seems like they’re sticking to the plan from earlier, then.

When Steve realizes this, as he is gripping onto the car for dear life, he whines. “Oh, no. Guys.”

Everyone ignores him and he continues to try to stop what’s happening. You hobble over to him, a new wave of nausea and pain washing over you, and lean against him helplessly. There’s no use trying to explain to him that the party won’t listen. For now, you simply relish in his presence and enjoy how he feels against you. 

“We are not going down there right now!” Steve, though gentle to not jostle you around too much, waves his hands in the air as he screams at Max. “I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to that hole, alright?”

Similar to last year, Steve begins to spiral in his fear. He wraps his arms around you and places you against the car before he runs over to Dustin and throws that backpack that’s in the kid’s hands. “This is not happening!”

You slowly walk over and grab the thrown backpack, hoping that Dustin can reason with the teen. 

“Steve, you’re upset. I get it, but the bottom line is that a party member requires assistance and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” When you join Dustin’s side, he helps you put the goggles on and brings your bandana up over your mouth. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So keep us safe.”

He hands Steve the backpack you retrieved. 

Steve looks between you and your brother. You both look absolutely ridiculous in your get up, and he knows he has no other choice but to agree. His eyes meet yours and he silently asks if you’re sure about this, he will always look to you for the answers. 

You nod, hoping that the small head shift is conveying what you physically cannot say.

I’m here, the kids need us, and I need you with me.

Steve hears it, sighs, and grabs the backpack from your hands. 

“Well, let’s get going.” He motions for you and Dustin to lead the way. 

– 

“I got you,” Steve’s voice is soft as his hands graze your waist. He’s standing below you, already having jumped into the tunnels so that he can help you climb down the rope safely. You’re not sure if it’s his touch, or the way his voice drips with promises to protect you, or the simple fact that you’re bleeding and bruised that makes your body weak. 

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs. 

Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.”

This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain. 

“Ahem.”

Turning around, you see Dustin glaring at you and Steve while Lucas is stifling laughs. You roll your eyes at them and step away so that you aren’t standing so close to Steve, and he seems to think the same and distances himself as well. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes out, now finally examining the tunnels. 

It takes your breath away as well. The tunnels are terrifying, but oddly kind of cool. There’s a dim light within them, almost ghostly, and yet it’s beautiful in a way that you can’t quite describe. Small particles float through the air, and you reach your hand out to feel them against your skin. It tickles, akin to snowflakes, and the reminder makes you yearn for winter again. 

Mike’s flashlight distracts you as he shines it towards a random section of the tunnel. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin asks, doubtful. 

“I’m 100% sure, just follow me and you’ll know.”

As soon as Mike’s declaration of leading leaves his lips, you and Steve share and look and immediately stumble towards the boy. 

Like hell you’re letting him lead. He’s a child, and he’s also incredibly horrible at navigating. Last time you let him guide the way, you ended up finding El in the middle of the woods. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve flashes his light at Mike. “I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve takes the map from Mike’s hands and then looks over at you. “I guide, you take the rear?”

You nod. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles, his sarcastic bravado now gone, before he suddenly clears his throat once more and shouts. “From here on out, I’m leading the way while Y/N makes sure none of you idiots get lost. Come on.”

The kids groan and roll their eyes at him, but they fall into line and do as they’re told. 

Dustin walks in front of you and offers you his hand. He knows the uneven terrain will only increase the chances of your ankle acting up. “How’s the ankle?”

“Hurts,” you rasp, accepting his hand as you hobble along. He hums and helps you navigate, the goggles covering his nose makes him sound nasally. “Did I put up a good fight at least?”

Your throat strains to get all the words out, but Dustin seems to understand what you’ve said and laughs. “Yeah, you did a much better job than Steve–What the hell?”

Dustin stops walking and suddenly looks up. Unsure what he’s seen, you look up as well and gasp. Above you rests a giant flower-bud looking thing, except it’s pulsing in a very concerning and gross way and is the size of a car. When it starts to expand even larger, you realize before your brother does what it’s about to do; you tug at his hand and try to run away, but Dustin doesn’t move.

Then, in one grand blow, the bud explodes and releases what you can only imagine are pollen spores, and they spray all over Dustin. “Shit!” He falls to the ground, screaming and rolling around as if he’s just been shot, and all you can do is stand there and silently wait for him to calm down enough for you to talk to him. “Help! Y/N, help!”

You motion to your throat, but Dustin gags and scrambles to stand up before promptly falling back down again in his haste. 

Steve and the others have now joined and everyone is crowding over your brother with worry. “Dustin? What happened?”

“Pollen.” You croak, and Steve looks even more confused now. 

“It’s in my mouth!” Dustin spits onto the ground and coughs, wheezing every few breaths. “Some of it got on my mouth. Shit!”

Mike points his flashlight at you. “Any more useful insight from Kermit the frog?”

You glare at him, although the nickname is funny and you hate that it’s clever. You clear your throat, cringe at the sting it sends down your body, and respond, “Rose-bud thing. Exploded. He’s fine.”

Everyone tilts their head at you, not at all understanding what you’re trying to say, and you groan. It’s incredibly frustrating that Billy left you unable to say a goddamn thing without immeasurable pain. You honestly would’ve preferred that he stab you or something, because your intelligence and wit are so crucial to who you are as a person. 

Plus the whole Kermit the frog thing kind of sucks, regardless of how funny it will be later. 

“I’m fine.” Dustin gasps out. “As Y/N said, a rose-bud thing sprayed me.”

“You guys serious?” Max shakes her head, at a loss for why she’s even here. 

“Very funny, man.” Steve looks at you and teases, “And Y/N, I expected more from you.”

You give him the finger. “Dustin, not me.”

“Mhm,” he’s starting to walk away again, resuming his leader position through the tunnels, but he sends you a wink. “C’mon, Hendersons.”

The rest of the kids follow after him while you help Dustin up and wipe him off. He’s a mess, and he’s clearly still frightened, but he seems reassured by your presence and begins to calm down. When he’s ready, you and Dustin follow.

The tunnels are long, windy, and incredibly disturbing to be in. You can’t believe that something this intricate and vast has been laying underneath Hawkins for god knows how long. The ground beneath your feet is squishy and it takes both Dustin’s hand and immense concentration to not trip. 

Steve leads, his flashlight serving as a beacon to focus on despite the pounding in your head. The bandana tied over your nose only makes the ringing in your ears worse, but you’ll leave inhaling mysterious Upside Down particles to your brother. 

After a few minutes of walking, you’re starting to fear that the poorly drawn map from Mike really is just a poorly drawn map. Then, Steve stops. “Alright, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”

You flick your flashlight around and your eyes widen. It’s huge. In the center lies a mound of what you hope is just mud, but you see a bone or two stick out from it and look away. To your left, there’s easily five or six more tunnels, each varying in width and height, and to your right is the same. 

Seeing how vast the tunnel system is, you’re thankful for Mike’s genius little brain. 

“Let’s drench it!” Except the vigor in his voice frightens you and you consider that he may be the world’s next mad scientist. 

However, a plan is a plan and you’ve already made it this far, so you set to work on spraying the area with gasoline. Between you, Steve, and the kids, within minutes you’ve created the world’s most flammable labyrinth. 

When you’re done, Steve guides the kids back towards the exit and you make sure everyone’s behind the two of you. He kneels, flicks out his lighter, and turns to everyone. “Alright, you guys ready?”

“Ready,” Max and Lucas say.

Dustin tightens his hand around yours, preparing to help you run as fast as you can with your ankle. “Light her up.”

Steve flicks his lighter open. “I am in such deep shit.”

“Together.” You nudge him with your shoe, and even though his face is hidden, you know he smiles. 

He takes a deep breath, winds his arm back, and flings the lighter into the center of the hub. 

Immediately everything bursts into flames. In the blaze, the strange roots that had been lying dormant on the ground now come to life as they flail against the heat. They twist and whip around, writhing in pain. The tunnels themselves almost seem to come to life as it writhes in pain. 

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, pushing everyone back to start running. 

You stay behind with him, making sure all the kids have started to run before you finally let Dustin tug you along as well. The boy is screaming, hopping and dodging roots as best as he can while squealing, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Steve takes the lead now, having somehow memorized the way out. “Let’s go!”

You’re disoriented. Dustin’s hand is gripping yours so harshly and it’s taking everything within you to keep up, but your ankle throbs and your left eye has only continued to swell from the punch earlier. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to follow along, and in your disorientation you lose track of Mike. 

When he falls, everything within you snaps back into focus. You tear your hand from Dustin’s and you’re at Mike’s side in a heartbeat, but already the roots have started to wrap around his leg; he screams. “Help! Y/N, help me!”

Your hands shake as you reach for your switchblade, adrenaline runs through you so violently that you feel lightheaded. Mike’s screams are the only thing keeping you grounded right now. As he panics, you roughly grab his shirt and force him back before you start to hack at the root with your knives. 

“Pull him back!” Steve instructs the kids, who have now joined. “Y/N, watch out!”

You have just enough time to cut through one root before dodging Steve’s bat as he hits at the other. It takes a few swings, but with one final blow, you and the kids are able to pull Mike free and help him stand back up. 

“You good?” Lucas pants, patting MIke’s shoulders for any injuries while Dustin asks, “You okay?”

You pull Mike into you and quickly hug him, damning whatever time constraint you currently have against you. Your hands are still shaking, which Mike feels, and he gives you a quick pat before pulling away. “Glad you care, but–”

“We gotta go!” Steve steps between you two, bat still in hand, when a growl erupts from behind him. 

Dustin shoves everyone behind him before you can stop him. He’s recognized the growl before you have. “Dart.”

The Demodog growls again. He’s bigger than ever before, now practically fully grown. His growth distracts you long enough to miss Dustin slowly starting to approach him. When you do, you immediately try to stop him. 

“Dustin–” Fear overtakes you.

“Steve, hold her back.” He orders. “Just trust me, okay?”

Steve’s arms wrap around you and you try to fight back. “No–”

“Y/N,” he whispers into your ear, keeping an eye on your brother as well. “If you freak out now, Dustin will get hurt.”

He’s right, you know he’s right, but your brother is only a foot away from Dart now and he’s now smaller than the creature. One wrong move, and he’s dead.

Dustin kneels in front of Dart and you feel your heart drop. You don’t dare breathe as he takes off his goggles and mask and leans in closer to the creature. “Hey, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.”

Dart slowly inches forward as Dustin continues to talk. “You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

This time, Dart’s entire mouth opens as he snarls at Dustin.

Again you struggle in Steve’s arms, but he only tightens his hold on you as you watch your baby brother, terrified, face off against the Demodog. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Dustin lowers his voice, unwavering against Dart’s malice. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchy thing to do. I blame Y/N, she’s always the one who makes me do the right thing.”

The little shit has you scared out of your fucking mind, and yet he has the nerve to somehow make this your fault.

If he gets out of this alive, you’re never, ever letting him go again. 

Dustin reaches into his backpack, eyes never leaving Dart. “You hungry?

“He’s insane,” Lucas whispers in awe. Both you and Steve tell him to shut up, scared that any noise will cause Dart to attack.

“I’ve got our favorite.” Dustin waves the candy in front of Dart’s face. “See? Nougat.”

As soon as the Demodog sees the candy bar, his demeanor shifts and he happily approaches Dustin. Within seconds, your brother has managed to re-tame his weird Upside Down pet, and for a brief second you feel bad that Dustin can’t keep him. 

“Look at that. Yummy!” He places the candy on the ground as a peace offering and he starts to motion behind him, waving for you and everyone else to start moving. “Eat up, buddy.”

Steve guides Lucas, Max, and Mike past Dart and through the tunnel that was previously blocked by him, but you stay behind. Your knives are drawn; you’re not leaving your brother’s side. 

“There’s plenty,” Dustin coos to the creature, placing down one last candy bar before standing up. When he sees that you’re still there, he grabs your hand and starts to walk away with you. Feeling his hand, warm and alive against yours, is enough to calm you down enough to follow. Before the two of you leave, however, Dustin turns around one last time to look at Dart, a sad smile on his face. “Goodbye, buddy.”

Dart doesn’t show any reaction, too busy devouring the candy he’s been given, and you gently tug Dustin along to safety, albeit with some guilt. He really loved that little lizard thing. 

As soon as the two of you are out of danger, you pull Dustin into a bone crushing hug. “You’re stupid.”

“Stupid brave,” he mumbles against you, though his arms are tight against your waist. He had been scared, too. 

You snort and pull your bandana down so you can kiss the top of Dustin’s head. “Just stupid.” 

“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve whispers, feeling bad for interrupting your moment with the kid. He can still feel the way your body shook in his arms, how he could hear your terrified heartbeat as he held you back. He felt horrible for doing it, but he promised Nancy he’d keep the kids safe, and Steve knows that she also wanted him to protect you, too.

At Steve’s urgent whisper, you reluctantly nod and pull away from Dustin. With one last shoulder squeeze, you pat his back and tug at his hand to start running. As you run, the ground trembles beneath your feet. You’re the first one to fall, Max and Lucas not far behind. “Fuck!” 

Steve has your hand within his in seconds and he gently pulls you up. His face is obscured from the goggles and banana, yet you can see the concern when he looks at you. When he stands you back up, he pulls you close and whispers, “You okay?”

You nod, about to tell him to keep running, when you hear the first screech of the Demodogs. 

“What was that?” Max inches towards your side, now long familiar with what the screeches mean. 

As if almost in response to the girl, more screeches follow as they echo through the tunnels. Only this time, there’s more of them; more than you’d even want to imagine. The hair on your arms stands up as the screeching continues. You know that if you don’t run now, none of you will stand a chance. 

“They’re coming.” Mike realizes. “Run! Run, let’s go!”

You snatch Dustin’s hand and practically throw the kid forward with how harshly you begin running. Lucas and Max run past, while Mike follows after Steve. Your footsteps fall harshly against the tunnel’s earthy ground and it takes everything within you to keep going. When you round the corner and see the rope, you almost sob with relief. 

“Kids first!” You shout, damning whatever further damage it’ll do to your vocal chords.

Steve understands immediately and kneels beneath the rope to give the kids a boost up while you hold the rope taught and help lift them. Max is the first up, both you and Steve more so throwing her rather than helping her.

“C’mon!” Steve encourages her, and with one final shove from you, she makes it over the edge and is safe. 

Everything happens so fast, it’s a blur as you help Lucas start to climb out, then Mike, and as you’re hauling Dustin up next, you hear the Demodogs drawing near. 

“Oh, shit!” Steve hears them as soon as you do and he grabs for his bat and starts to place himself in front of you and Dustin, but you stop him. 

“No!” You yank him back and then grab your brother, shoving him underneath the rope. The shadows of the Demodogs cast against the wall, you know you only have seconds before they’re here. “Throw him up!”

Dustin realizes what you’re about to do. “Y/N, no–”

But Steve already has a grip on him. “You’re going home.”

“No!” Dustin screams and tries to stay behind, wriggling and thrashing, but with Steve’s help, you’re able to lift him to safety before the first Demodog appears. Dustin, now safely above ground, sees this too. His heart stops. “Y/N!”

“Steve! Y/N! Climb up!” The kids begin to shout now, urging you and the teen to get out of the tunnels, fear alive in their voices. 

You look up at them, see their faces alive with youth, and then turn to Steve. He seems to be thinking the same thing as you. You’ve both run out of time. He nods, you do as well, and together you’ve accepted your fate. Steve draws his bat as you raise your knives. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s voice rings through clearer than the other’s, the despair evident. You close your eyes for a second, wishing that there was more you could’ve done, but at least he’s safe.

Jonathan will take care of him, Nancy will, too. 

He won’t be alone, and you have Steve with you, who is holding your hand as if it contains all the secrets of the world.

It’ll be okay. 

You open your eyes. 

The Demodogs, miraculously, start to run right past you and Steve. They weave between you two, not at all paying any attention. You stand as still as possible, not wanting to wake them from whatever trance they seem to be in. 

However, one particularly large Demodog crashes against your leg and sends you into Steve’s side, who wraps his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness. You duck your head down, unaware just how desperately you’d been craving his presence, and he buries you further against him as the monsters continue to run. 

The two of you cower, curling into one another, steadying the other, waiting for something to happen. Steve has his feet firmly planted and stands his ground as more monsters run past, and without him you would’ve fallen minutes ago, trampled by the creatures. 

When you can’t hear any more Demodogs, you slowly lift your head from Steve’s chest and look around. 

They’re gone. Each and every one of them has left. 

You’re still in Steve’s arms, your chests are pressed tightly together and you’ve never been this close to him before. When you look up at him, you can feel his breath against your skin. There’s an odd look in his eyes, he’s studying your face as if seeing it for the first time, and his gaze makes something deep within you stir. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, needing to say something. He’s once again saved your life, and your eyes can’t seem to leave his. 

His fingers dig into your side, it’s the only way he can respond. The sensation causes you to shiver and your eyes slowly drift down to his lips. They’re a lovely shade of pink, flush and full. You wonder what they’d taste like, if he’s wondered the same about you. 

Steve stares down at you and feels every breath you take, the rise and fall of your chest matching his. The two of you stand like this for a moment, hearts beating together as you cling to one another, until Dustin clears his throat. 

“Ahem,” he draws your attention. “There are kids here, ya know.”

Lucas, Max, and Mike all snicker when you frantically pull away from Steve in embarrassment. Both of your faces are red, the air between you still hangs with something you’re not quite sure how to name. 

“We’re coming.” Steve mumbles to your brother before turning to you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath and nod, your nerves still shaky from being so close to him prior. When you’re ready, you grab onto the rope and feel Steve’s always gentle hands grip your waist. You’re slow climbing up, being the most injured out of everyone, but he’s patient with you and murmurs encouragement as you climb. 

Once you’re safely up, you help the kids with Steve. The moment his feet touch solid land, he lets out a low whistle and claps his hands. “Well, I’d say that went well–”

Suddenly, Billy’s headlights begin to shine obnoxiously bright. The light increases in its intensity, glowing brighter and brighter, so much so that you and everyone else have to shield your eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the lights shut off. 

It’s quiet. No one says anything, unsure of what’s just happened, but you know.

“El,” you whisper, somehow knowing it’s her. Mike nods, understanding as well. 

She did it. 

She closed the gate. 

You pull the kids into you, dragging them all in your arms in a giant hug. All you feel right now is disbelief. The plan worked. You’re all somehow still alive. 

Steve stands behind you, his chest firm against your back, and you allow yourself to gently lean against him. To accept all that he’s silently providing you; there’s no point in fighting it any more. He’s here, offering you anything you need from him, and you’re exhausted from pretending that you don’t see it. 

After a few moments of silence, you finally release the kids and nudge them towards the car. 

It’s time to go home. 

– 

“So what exactly did you guys do with Billy?” Steve’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, waves of exhaustion crashing upon you. From the rearview mirror, Steve sees Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all turn to Max slowly. He frowns. “Why are you all looking at her?”

Max shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I handled it.”

“She sedated him and we left him on the floor at Will’s.” Dustin fills in the information that Max opted to omit, which she elbows him for. 

Steve blinks, turns to you, and asks, “You heard that too, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.”

When you get to Jonathan’s, Billy is sitting hunched over on the porch, waiting. He looks rough, his eyes bleary and his hair matted. When you see him, you feel your throat constrict in pain and a sense of panic builds within you. You look towards Steve, see his bruised cheek, then notice the way Max squirms in the backseat being near Billy, and the panic is replaced with anger. 

He’s caused enough pain and turmoil to those you love. 

Steve parks the car and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everyone. “Alright, we all see that Billy is awake, so you guys stay here while I go and–”

“We.” You correct, swallowing down the pain you feel. 

Steve inhales and looks as if he wants to argue, but he just shakes his head and continues. “Okay, we go and talk to the guy.”

“I want to come.” Max says, though she still refuses to look in Billy’s direction. 

You rest a hand on her leg. You understand what she’s asking for, to handle her brother herself, take her life into her own hands. Max is a brave kid, she’s shown you that much tonight, and while you trust her to make the right decision, you’re still hesitant. “Are you sure?”

She thinks for a second before nodding. Her eyes harden and she juts her jaw out. She’s made up her mind, and you get a kick out of seeing the fire within her. Max Mayfield is an incredible young girl, and you’re honored to know that she trusts you. “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go.”

You, Steve, and Max walk side by side towards Billy, though you make sure to place the girl slightly behind you in case her brother tries anything. 

When Billy notices you approach, he lifts his head up and waves lazily at the three of you. “Back already?” His words slur together and his eyes are glossy; the sedative must still be wearing off. 

Max steps forward. “Take me home.” 

Billy eyes her, looks between you and Steve, and then sighs. “Fine. Any other demands?”

The girl shakes her head. “I’ll wait in the car.”

And then she’s gone, leaving you and Steve alone with Billy. 

He eyes you, sees the bruises on your neck, and a languid smile drawls across his face. “Seems I left a mark, sweetheart.”

Steve steps forward, but you put your hand out and stop him. You appreciate him, you do, but this is something you have to do yourself. You swallow again, feeling the tender flesh within your throat constrict, and try to make your words come out as neutral as possible. “Seems I did, too.”

Billy looks down at his shoulder, the wound from your knife is still bleeding. “So you did.”

Lucas and the other boys stand off to the side now, having left the car alone for Max. When Billy notices them staring, he sighs and wipes his hands off on his jeans and slowly gets up. “Well, my bitch of a sister awaits.”

As Billy leaves, Mike runs up the steps and unlocks the front door. “Y/N, think you could make those cookies again? I’m starving.”

You glare at him and Steve laughs. “I’m not sure she can even walk up the steps, dude.”

“Yeah, look at her.” Dustin waves his hands in front of you. “She looks like a zombie.”

Lucas makes zombie sounds and pretends to eat Dustin’s brains before Mike joins in. The three of them chase each other into the house, screaming “brains” and “die” as they mess around, leaving you and Steve alone outside. 

He steps in front of you, his back towards you and he crouches down. “Care for a ride?”

You want to argue, but it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your eyes open. It’d be a miracle if you even manage up the first step on the porch. Hesitantly, you place your hands on Steve’s shoulders and jump onto his back.

“Atta girl,” he laughs, standing back up so that he can carry you inside and join the boys. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face as you close your eyes. You’re seconds away from falling asleep. Steve seems to sense this and slows down his footsteps so as to not disturb you. 

He navigates the home, remembering where to go from his time here last year. You’re warm against him and Steve’s fingers draw lazy circles onto your ankles. The boys are in the kitchen, scurrying around for any food, and Steve relishes in this small moment with you.

You’re placed down into a soft bed and the smell of Jonathan overwhelms you; you open your eyes and realize that Steve has taken you to the boy’s room. The bed is warm beneath you, the scent soothes your wounds. 

“Jonathan’s?” You ask, confused as to why Steve would take you here.

“Figured it’s where you sleep when you’re here.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, before grabbing the blankets and tucking you in. His movements are careful and he makes sure your head is resting on a pillow and that he takes off your shoes. 

The gentleness of his touch soothes you. You’ve never let anyone take care of you like this before. You let him play with your hair, wrap the blanket around you so that you won’t get cold, and when he finally seems pleased with his work, he flicks your nose and smiles. “Get some sleep, dork.”

“Everyone is safe?”

His eyes melt. “They are. They’ll be home soon. In the meantime, I’ll rustle up some grub for those heathens outside while you sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

You giggle and grab his hand to bring to your lips. They linger against his knuckles, you inhale and breathe in his scent, and Steve’s breath hitches at the touch. “Thank you,” you whisper against his skin before placing another kiss. 

There’s such a lovely buzz within your chest, holding Steve’s hand fills you with this syrupy warmth like honey, and you’ve never felt it before. It drips down your skin and into your bones, healing wounds both old and new with its kisses. 

Steve squeezes your hand with his. He feels it, too. You both do. 

–

A body slides in next to yours, rousing you from your sleep. A hand wraps around your waist and the fingers, long and lithe and familiar, skim your skin lazily. The sensation almost lulls you back to sleep, you know whose touch this is, whose body lays next to yours. 

You open your arms and engulf Jonathan into a hug. His body lays atop of yours, reminiscent of the night a few days ago when he snuck into your room before he left with Nancy. Your body has long since come to anticipate his weight against yours, it’s become accustomed to how he lands upon you. 

“What time is it?” You rasp, stroking Jonathan’s hair with your fingers as he breathes steadily against you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but the pain in your throat has lessened, your voice is slowly returning to normal.

“Early morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Steve took Dustin home, no one wanted to wake you. Apparently you had a rough night.”

You laugh, then wince at the pain it draws from your throat and ribs. “You could say that.”

Jonathan places another kiss upon your skin, this time against the base of your throat. He litters kisses up and down your neck, his breath tickling as he does so. “I’m sorry,” he says in between each kiss, as if his words will make the bruises fade faster. 

Rather than respond, knowing nothing you can say will make him believe that none of this is Jonathan’s fault, you simply hum at his kisses and lean into them. “Will?”

“He’s okay, he’s safe. Mom is with him now.”

You hum again, relishing in the knowledge that Will is okay and that Jonathan is once again here with you. The house is quiet, everyone else asleep, and the two of you lay like this for a while. No more words are said, Jonathan presses kisses against your skin as your fingers interlock through his hair and you run your hand up and down his back. 

Somehow, you know this will be the last time you ever have him like this. 

Just the two of you, uncrossed in any boundaries. Skin against skin, kisses to wounds and fingers intertwined. You hope that your body never forgets the weight of his. You hope that it will always anticipate his impact, welcoming it after a long day. Jonathan’s touch will soon become ghosts lingering on your skin, and selfishly you never want this moment to end. 

Uncrossed boundaries, threads and strings and lines. 

They’re here. You can see them now, they almost glow faintly within Jonathan’s room, the same room in which you grew up in. 

“Bee?” You whisper, nudging him gently to get his attention. He lifts his head from your neck and looks at you, eyes open and listening. “We have to talk about it.”

The early morning light streams through the curtain and illuminates Jonathan’s face. His eyes are a mixture of browns and reds and ambers and you try to remember what they look like now, before the words are said and nothing will ever be the same again. 

“I’m scared,” he admits. You’ve made him into who he is today, with all of his quirks and humor and love. Jonathan doesn’t know who he would be without you, and he’s terrified that he’ll say the wrong thing and lose you forever.

“I know,” you stroke his cheek. “I am, too.”

“I don’t want to–I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Jonathan Byers.” You’re firm in your words, now grasping at his face with your hands. “We’re connected, remember? String theory, you and me.”

Jonathan has tears in his eyes. “But I slept with Nancy.”

His confession only makes you sigh. “I know, bee.”

“I–I think… I think this time it’ll turn into something more. I… I think I love her, bug.” His voice cracks, terrified of his own words. He recognizes now, far too late, all that he’s missed. “But bug… I know there’s–that there’s some things we should’ve talked about. A long time ago… but I just…”

“I know,” you know everything he’s trying to tell you. There’s no hurt in your voice, only resignation, but you knew this would happen eventually. “We missed our chance a while ago.”

“Did we ever really have a chance?” He asks, thinking back to the day the two of you met. How easily you accepted him into your life, the role you unknowingly assigned to him as your best friend. How, for years, he’d been so in love with you but terrified it’d scare you away. 

You play with his fingers, thinking for a moment. “I’d like to think that we did. I think we just… We missed each other, along the way.”

He smiles, bittersweet and somber. “We would’ve been something great, huh?”

“You’re my person,” you tell him, a certain sadness creeping into your voice. It’s the truth. No one will ever know you like he does, no one can unravel you the way he can. The love you have for Jonathan is unyielding, it transcends everything else you’ve ever felt. “Of course we would’ve been something great.”

“And now?”

You bite your lip, unsure. “Now we just… We let go.”

Jonathan tightens his arms and presses himself further against you. “I’m never letting you go, Y/N Henderson.”

You feel tears beginning to form in your eyes, both from grief and acceptance. “You don’t have to, but we have to let go of our claim to one another. You’re Nancy’s, now. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. To anyone.”

“And you’re Steve’s?” He asks, hesitant to bring the boy up. While you watched Jonathan fall in love with Nancy, he’s watched you fall for Steve. 

“I think I could really love him,” you admit, breathless. “I think I’ve already started to fall for him.”

Jonathan’s heart twists at the breathlessness in your voice, though he knows he’ll have to get used to this. To no longer being the reason for your bashfulness. It’ll take time, but he knows in the end that it’s for the better. “You deserve to go for it, bug.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he playfully pokes your side. “Nancy fucked up with him, and I fucked up with you. The two of you deserve better than us, and I… I want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I know, but…” you turn to him now, needing him to understand all that you still don’t know how to voice yourself. “Remember our pinky promise from last year?”

Jonathan wiggles his pinky at you, unsure where you’re going with this. “I do.”

“We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?” You know it’s selfish to ask, to expect everything to stay the same between you, but losing Jonathan would be the one thing you’d never recover from. He’s in your bones, now. He’s grown up alongside you, patched up your wounds as a child and now holds your hands through the nightmares you face together. 

It doesn’t matter how you and Jonathan end, whether you’re lovers in this universe or simply the best of friends. Regardless of what’s happened, he’s the most important person in your life. He always will be.

Jonathan presses a kiss upon your forehead, his lips warm. “Always, and I’ll always love you the most, bug.”

“I’ll always love you the most, bee.” The words come easily to you, an exhale after being inhaled so long ago. 

The world stills. Then, as slow as the sun rises after a harsh winter’s night, the strings and lines finally settle between you two.

“Let’s go to bed.” Jonathan whispers, wanting to hold onto you for at least a few more hours. 

In the late morning hours the two of you will wake up, and it will be the last time you do so in each other’s arms. 

– 

When Jonathan drops you off at home the next day, your mom freaks when she sees you. Dustin had tried to prepare her, making up some lie about how you’d fallen down at the Byers’ house and that’s why you couldn’t come home for a few days. However, your mom still had a heart attack when you walked through the front door with a split head, black eye, bruised neck, and a bloodied side. 

“My baby!” She took you into her arms and immediately set her eyes on Jonathan. “What, did you have a bear in the house or something?”

Jonathan looked over at Dustin with a helpless look on his face and your brother had sighed. He figured he’d have to be the one to take over. “Like I said, mom. Y/N just got really into our campaign and fell. She’s fine, I mean, look at her!”

You did your best to appear very fine and healthy, despite your concussion forming a horrendous headache. You forced a smile on your face, all teeth. “All fine and dandy, mom.”

Claudia Henderson hadn’t bought it.

You were placed under house arrest for two weeks. 

During these two weeks, you were only allowed to leave the house to either go to work (somehow Mrs. Waters still hasn’t fired you despite missing three days of work), and go to school. It wasn’t so bad, though. You had needed the rest, and Nancy visited you a few days into your house arrest.

You’re not sure when she officially began her relationship with Jonathan, but the first time she came to see you, she had brought a giant basket full of baked goods and comics she had asked Jonathan about. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Nance.” You had informed the girl when you saw her struggling to carry the basket. 

“I stole your boyfriend, it’s the least I could do.” You stared at her, eyes so wide that your black eye almost fully opened, and Nancy had let out a loud laugh. You’d never heard her laugh so openly before, and it was a beautiful sight. “It was a joke, Y/N. It’s okay to laugh.”

“Ha, ha, Wheeler.” You took the basket from her and inspected its contents. There were more comics than you could count and the muffins smelled delicious. “This is a good haul.”

Nancy had smiled, relieved that she’d done something right. She had bugged Jonathan all day yesterday, anxious to do something nice for you because she felt this crippling need to make you like her. He had reassured her a million times that you did already like her, but Nancy has never been the best at making friends, and she knows the history between you and her is tense. 

“You really like it?”

“I love it, dude.” You saw the way Nancy’s body relaxed, as if she had been terrified you’d burn the basket in front of her face. It’s only then that you realized why she was there. “You and Jonathan finally seal the deal?”

Nancy blushed, still unused to how well you perceive others. “We did.”

“Took you guys long enough!” You squealed and threw your arms around her, elated for your friends. Sure, it still stung a bit, but Nancy was trying, so you were too. “But can I say just one thing, and then we’ll bury the hatchet for good?”

“Of course, Y/N.” Nancy said, though you felt her body tense underneath your hold. She had been bracing for impact, and it broke your heart to imagine how she was feeling in that moment. 

You grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m happy for you two, I really am, okay? You know my history with Jonathan, and I’m sure he’s told you everything, but I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“I’m listening,” she whispered, gripping your hand tightly. 

“If anything, and I mean anything, bothers you about my relationship with him, I need you to tell me. Don’t let anything simmer, don’t swallow down any hurt. I need you to know that I will always respect your guys’ relationship, and if you ever feel that I don’t, please tell me.”

Nancy, to your surprise, had laughed. “That’s it? Geesh, Y/N. I was expecting you to threaten me with your knives or something. I understand your connection with Jonathan, I know what I agreed to.” She paused, and then added with a sly smirk, “Besides, I know you wouldn’t cross any boundaries because you’ve spent practically all year pining after Steve.”

“I did not!” You gaped at her, shocked that she would say such a thing, and Nancy laughed so hard that it took both you and her another ten minutes to say anything else. It was lovely, laughing alongside the girl you once held so much resentment over. Now there you were, rib cage aching with glee.

And that’s how Nancy Wheeler became your best friend.  

After that, things seemed to settle down during the month that followed the events of Hawkin’s Lab. 

While you healed your wounds at home, Jonathan and Nancy came to visit you whenever they could. It was weird, at first, being in the same room as them now that they were together, but within minutes the three of you formed your own dynamic. You and Nancy teased Jonathan while he simply shook his head at the two of you and did whatever you asked. 

It was a good dynamic, really. 

A week into house arrest, your mom let you finally return to work.

Of course, on your first day back, Steve was standing inside of Bookstrordinary, waiting for you. 

Seeing him there, hair messy and smile warm, felt like coming home. 

“Back so soon?” You had teased, walking slowly up to him. 

His smile widened and he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, impatient with how long it was taking you to come to him. “Like I could wait any longer.”

“I stack and you sort?”

“Let’s get to work, Henderson.” He winked and spun you around, causing you to giggle, a sound he’d come to adore, and the two of you set off to work. 

Steve becomes a regular at Bookstrorindary again, and one day you come home from school to find him sitting at your kitchen table with Dustin and your mom. They were eating an after school snack together, chatting as if they were old friends. Your mom was even blushing as Steve charmed her. It was a disorienting sight, to say the least. 

“Is this going to be a thing now?” You’d asked, setting your backpack down to grab your own snack and join. 

“I invited him.” Dustin said with a mouth full of apples. “He’s cool, and mom likes him, so. Yeah.”

Your mom pinched Steve’s cheek and giggled. “He’s just so charming!”

Steve sent you a wink, basking in your mother’s praise, and in that moment, seeing him with the two people you loved most in this world, you knew.

It hit you like a warm, soft summer breeze. It swirled around you, kissed your skin the way only the sun can do, and you could almost smell the fresh summer honey that your dad used to buy for your birthday. The feeling was serene, it felt as easy as exhaling.

You were in love with Steve Harrington. 

Only this time, the realization made you smile; you accepted it with open arms. You walked over to him and ruffled his hair before sitting next to him at the table. Biting your own apple, you winked at your mom, agreeing with what she had said. “He is indeed very charming.”

Dustin gagged while Steve draped an arm across your chair and stole your apple. “That I am, Y/N.”

Maybe love wasn’t so bad after all.

The following week, both Steve and Nancy asked you to attend Barb’s funeral, and of course you went. 

It was a small service, and Jonathan held Nancy’s hand throughout all of it. While it hurt to see her cry, you can’t help but think about how incredible Nancy is. She’s the reason that Barb is even getting a funeral in the first place, having brilliantly exposed Hawkin’s Lab and giving her friend the justice she deserves. 

Steve stood next to you, stoic and guilty, and after the service ended you had to pull him aside and remind him that none of it had been his fault. He listened, but you know he hadn’t necessarily heard you.

It’s similar to how you feel with Will, and how Jonathan feels with you, and Nancy with Barb. 

You all hold a heavy weight within you, of guilt and shame and despair. There’s nothing that specifically can be done to lessen it. All you can do is allow the ones you love to carry the weight with you, to share it and accept the help that they offer. 

Time can’t heal all wounds, you recognize this now, so you do things for those you love and see the good that’s still there, even if it’s hard sometimes. 

And that’s what you do.

You start stopping by Hopper’s cabin to see El.

He hated it at first, but when you showed up one day with a box of nail polish and comics, El had been so overjoyed that he simply sighed and let you in. 

You teach the girl how to read, having her say words out loud as you paint her nails, and it’s lovely. It’s rare to get the girl all to yourself, so spending time with her is always the favorite part of your day. Plus, she starts to get really into Spider-Man, so you’ve done your job as an avid fan. 

As for Will and the boys, you start to make it a point to partake in their DnD campaigns whenever possible. While it’s hard balancing work, school, El, and the party, you don’t regret it for a single second. It’s exhausting, but a good kind of exhaustion. One that leaves your bones aching in a rewarding way at the end of the day.

You’ll never tell Jonathan this, but he had been right a few months ago. You’d been burning yourself out, running away from everything you didn’t want to confront, from your feelings to your crippling worry for the kids. You’re not sure how much you had left in you, looking back now.

You had been drowning for a long, long time. 

But as you pick up Dustin and Will from Mike’s, Jonathan by your side as always, your nails painted a messy shade of blue thanks to El, and Steve waiting for you back at your house, you’re finally able to breathe. 

– 

It somehow takes you the entire day to get Dustin ready for the Snowball. 

He’s running around the house, frantically trying to find his bowtie that he’s misplaced, and you’re currently digging through the endless supply of hairspray that Steve dropped off yesterday. There’s so much hair products within the bag that he delivered, and it actually scares you a little. 

No way this much chemicals can be good for a kid. 

“Did you find the bowtie?” You yell from the bathroom, finally managing to open the bottle of hairspray that Steve specifically told you to use first. 

“Yes!” Dustin runs back into the bathroom and throws the piece of fabric at you. “Quick, put it on while I spray my hair!” 

You roll your eyes at him but do as he asks, securing his bowtie to his baby blue button shirt. However, as he sprays his hair, he almost blinds you in the process. “Christ, Dustin! That’s practically a weapon.”

He continues to spray. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready.”

“I wanted you to look handsome,” you coo at him, straightening his bowtie one final time before stepping back and admiring your handiwork. “All done, and look at you!”

Dustin sprays even more product into his hair and tries to shove you out of the bathroom, but he secretly preens. “Am I really handsome?”

You admire him and you can’t believe how grown up he is now. He’s grown another three inches since last month and with the way he’s styled his hair, he looks like a teenager. Your heart stings a bit, seeing him no longer look like the little brother you know and love. He’s changing, growing up. “The handsomest.”

He smiles at you. “Thanks, Y/N. Now go get dressed while I finish my hair. Steve will be here any minute!”

You salute him and run to your room. Nancy had asked you to chaperon alongside her at the dance, and you figured it’d be fun watching Dustin and the party failing miserably with prepubescent girls, so you agreed. However, because it somehow took five hours helping your brother get ready, you run around your room in a hurry.

You’ve just finished applying some mascara when the doorbell rings, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N, Steve is here!” Your mother calls, a slight glee in her voice. She’s quickly come to adore the boy, something that Steve milks whenever he can. He’s incredibly proud of it, honestly. 

You run to the door and open it, Dustin is still spraying his hair to death in the bathroom. 

When Steve sees you, he forgets how to speak. You’re dressed in a soft white dress and you’ve pinned the front two pieces of your hair back. You’ve dotted your lips with a berry-red lipstick and your cheeks look more flushed than usual. 

You see the blush that immediately forms on Steve’s cheeks and you giggle, suddenly shy. It’s awkward, but a nice awkward between you two. “Hey.”

“H–hi.” His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. “I–I mean, hey. You, uh… You look. Wow. I mean, not wow, but also wow–”

“Dude,” Dustin now joins and looks disappointedly at Steve. “Get it together, man.”

He pats his chest and starts heading towards the car, and you can’t help but snort. “He’s so lovely, isn’t he?”

Steve holds out his arm for you to take, the momentary awkwardness now gone. “The Henderson charm is a fascinating thing.”

During the car ride, the closer Steve gets to the school, the more you see Dustin fidget in the back seat. He had been so excited earlier, but now you notice the doubt in his eyes and the way he keeps patting his hair, unsure. 

You tap Steve’s hand to get his attention. When he looks over, you motion towards the backseat and he realizes what you’re trying to tell him. He nods, and the two of you silently agree to give the kid a pep talk once you get to the school. 

“Alright, buddy. Here we are.” Steve parks the car and tries to give Dustin a reassuring smile, but your brother looks out the window and exhales nervously. “Remember, once you get in there…”

“Pretend like I don’t care.”

You interrupt. “Okay, no. I thought we abandoned that idea last month.”

“Technically you abandoned it, I didn’t.” Dustin responds, and Steve shrugs his shoulders at you. 

“Dustin, I really want you to be yourself, okay?” You turn to face the kid. “What did I tell you last month, huh?”

“That we Hendersons are charming people.” He grumbles. 

“Exactly, and I meant that. Use your charm, buddy.”

Dustin isn’t listening, instead he tries to look at himself in the rearview mirror to once again fix his hair. Steve sees this and stops him. “Hey, listen to your sister, alright? You look great, okay?”

“Such a handsome lad.”

Steve puts his hand up to stop you. “Okay, ignore her and listen to me. Now, you’re gonna go in there…”

Dustin nods. “Yeah.”

“Look like a million bucks.”

“Yeah!”

“And you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”

“Like a lion.”

You cringe. “I’m not at all liking this language use in relation to women.”

Dustin purrs, just to spite you, but now Steve cringes and shakes his head, “Yeah, don’t do that, okay?”

“Okay.” Dustin deflates, but when Steve offers him his hand to shake, his face lights back up and he accepts it. 

Steve winks at the kid. “Good luck.”

“You got this!” You shout as Dustin exits the car. He gives you a thumbs up and starts to walk towards the school, leaving just you and Steve alone in the car. 

With Dustin gone, a tension creeps within the car. You look over at Steve and he catches your eye, and your stomach flutters. You can’t deny that there’s nothing there, and it’s… it’s nice, honestly. 

You don’t feel the same fear you did with Jonathan. You can look at Steve and admire his beauty and all you feel is warmth. His smile doesn’t hurt you, and the way he’s looking at you so unabashedly no longer scares you. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve says, his voice honest and dripping with honey. 

You blush, and he wants to kiss the pretty red until it colors his own lips as well. “Thank you.”

There’s more you both want to say, but for now you simply enjoy each other’s presence. It’s too soon, you know this. He’s still in love with Nancy, and you don’t blame him. Instead, you bask in his gaze and he admires how lovely you are. How lovely you always are.

He feels it, too. He knows what you’re thinking, and for once he feels comfortable with where he is. You’re here, next to him, expecting nothing but what you know he’s ready to give you. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, and Steve’s heart aches. “Drive home safe, okay?”

As you pull away, he catches your arm and stops you. You look up, confused, and Steve’s gaze softens. He doesn’t know how else to say it, how else to ask you to stay. “Be patient with me, okay?”

You don’t have to ask what he means; you know. 

Whatever he needs, you’ll give it to him. You place a hand on his face and stroke his cheek, he leans against the touch and closes his eyes. This is the easiest promise you’ve ever made. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.”

The words cause Steve to sigh, you’re too good for him. You’re everything lovely and beautiful and kind, and Steve can’t believe how lucky he is to know you, to have you in his life the way no one else does. That you’ll wait for him, trusting him with your heart, and he can’t believe that you’re real.

“You’re an angel.” He breathes out, feeling everything constrict within his chest when you smile. 

“And you’re sweet honey.” You press one last kiss to Steve’s face and get out of the car. No other words are needed. 

Steve watches you as you leave, your kiss still burning his face, the same burning warmth he’s come to love about you. He watches as you walk up to Nancy inside the school and she hands you a drink, the two of you laughing. You both look so different standing side by side. 

A girl Steve loves and the girl he knows that in time he’ll come to love more than anything else. 

He’s already falling for you, he thinks he has been ever since he first saw you all those years ago when you were twelve and he was thirteen. He’s falling for you, but he won’t rush it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, not after everything you’ve been through. 

So Steve admires you, he watches the way your hair dances as you laugh and the way the kids around you smile in admiration. He forgets that Nancy is even there, his eyes only on you, and for the first time in a long time, Steve smiles a real smile. 

Your kiss on his cheek lingers, and he presses his fingers to it and feels his body warm. You’ll be waiting for him, and that’s more than enough for now.

Take your time, I’ll be here.

And Steve believes you.

[END OF SEASON 2]

-

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[battleangel]

Do We Even Give A Damn?

US Supreme Court issued two key rulings within the past week: •Houselessnesss is now illegal •US Presidents have been granted immunity.

Houselessness Per Google: “Last week, the Supreme Court issued its opinion in Grants Pass v. Johnson, which makes it easier for communities nationwide to fine, ticket or arrest people living unsheltered, even when there is no adequate shelter available.”

They have criminalized being houseless even when there are no other options available.

Immunity •Granted US Presidents immunity — as long as the President states that s/he was acting in an official capacity regardless of crime(s) committed, they will be granted immunity.

Due to a literal average 3 second attention span — 3 seconds! — and instant collective amnesia — within a day, dead Boeing whisteblowers & Super Bowl Chiefs Parade shooting were instantaneously forgotten by the public who had already moved on literally by the very next day.

Theres always another show to stream, social media feed to scroll, youtube video to watch, Discord server to respond to.

They are completely emboldened now and are gearing up for an end game.

You do know who they is — right?

From Chicago Sun Times: “As disturbing as this agenda is, the most alarming and repellent policy proposal contained within Project 2025 is the restructuring of the federal government, eliminating the kind of public servants who stopped Trump from completely disassembling the Department of Veterans Affairs, overcame his resistance to expelling Russian spies, deterred him from shooting racial justice protesters, derailed his plan to deploy the military against migrants and kick undocumented children out of schools and deflected his suggestion to drop nuclear bombs into the eyes of hurricanes.

The Heritage Foundation, which produced Project 2025, grew out of the mid-1970s movement to protect racially segregated schools. The first battle it waged was against a school district’s adoption of multicultural textbooks — “n- - - - er books,” as some opponents called them.’'

Why is Orbán their model? Because he showed them how to use elections to undermine democracy and ensure perpetual power for his team,” historian Nancy McClean said. “How? Orbán purged the civil service and refilled it with obedient loyalists. He got the Constitution altered. He completely dominates. And this is what Heritage wants to see happen in the United States.”

Hitler did it too — look up Night of The Long Knives.

Knives Out.

I want you to know He's not coming back Look into my eyes I'm not coming back

So knives out Catch the mouse Don't look down Shove it in your mouth

If you'd been a dog They would've drowned you at birth Look into my eyes It's the only way you'll know I'm telling the truth

So knives out Cook him up Squash his head Put him in the pot

I want you to know He's not coming back He's bloated and frozen Still there's no point in letting it go to waste

So knives out Catch the mouse Squash his head Put him in the pot

Thom Yorke: “It’s partly the idea of the businessman walking out on his wife and kids and never coming back. It’s also the thousand yard stare when you look at someone close to you and you know they’re gonna die. It’s like a shadow over them, or the way they look straight through you. The shine goes out of their eyes.”

Its like a shadow over them.

The shine goes out of their eyes.

Project 2025. Modern Power Project.

The Democrats naturally have their own Project 2025 — Modern Power Project.

You dont actually think the two parties are different. Do you?

You didnt actually waste your time watching the debate. Did you?

Why is Netanyahu addressing Congress on July 11th after murdering 50k Palestinians since October 7th when 1,700 Israeli civilians have been killed since October 7th?

Dont those numbers seem uneven to you?

Thats not a war or a two-sided conflict — its a genocide that the US is funding to the tune of $4 billion a year in aid to Israel and supplying the weapons & bombs for via Boeing, Raytheon, Northrup Grumman & local mid-western weapons manufacturers.

Netanyahu gets the bully pulpit & gets to address Congress.

What does a murdered 6 year old Palestinian child, Hind Rajab, get?

International investigation into her murder confirms she was killed in “deliberate” Israeli fire.

Still, the US refuses to condemn Israel, refuses to stop funding the genocide and arming the IDF in their merciless butchering of my Palestinian brothers and sisters.

Whats going on?

62 House Democrats voted no last week to recognize the current civilian death toll in Palestine.

Why do you think that is?

As we move into the 4th of July “celebration” of a genocidal white supremacist police state based off of brutalism, slavery, militarism, racism, patrimony, patriarchy, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia, the ethnic cleansing of indigenous peoples, the powers that be want you to forget about the genocide in Palestine that YOU are funding with YOUR taxpayer dollars if you work a W-2 job or if you made more than $400 last year via freelancing or entrepreneurship.

That is the vast majority of adult Americans DIRECTLY funding the genocide in Palestine that is literally being livestreamed in real time on our phones on social media.

Enjoy your fucking fireworks.

Democrats Project 2025: “There’s also the awkwardness that surrounds any trend that serves to increase the identification between a private nonprofit and a sitting government — something that may be a boon to a particular think tank that wants to look influential, but can be uncomfortable for those who think about the policy ecosystem writ large.”

“My concern with ‘left’ or ‘right’ talent banks is that they would fuel the idea/narrative that the state is being captured,” said Enrique Mendizabal, whose On Think Tanks (https://onthinktanks.org/) studies think tanks themselves."

Were being set up.

And they know people are too distracted scrolling, streaming, gaming, messaging — theyre too numb — theyre too disaffected — non existent attention spans — instant collective amnesia — to give a fucking damn.

The knives are out.

As Michael Jackson pointed out so emotionally in Earth Song — he literally screamed it — do we give a damn?

The answer collectively is a resounding — About what?

Its not “No”. 

Its bored indifference. Casual apathy. Unfeeling ignorance. 

Its a yawn, an eye roll, a hand wave.

Its not even bothering to look up from scrolling social media.

Hashtags, trending topics, for you page.

Endless rabbit holes on youtube.

IG stories.

Discord servers.

Whatsapp group chats.

Twitch streams.

The age of giving a damn is over.

Time for AI, time for robotics, time for 80% of jobs to be replaced by AI, robotics, technology & automation.

Time for NeuraLink neural implants that will send an electronic signal to my neural synapses the millisecond a social media post receives a like.

Time for Google Glass — Version 2.0 — to play ads on our corneas and behind our eyelids.

Time for augmented and virtual reality to take the place of ever attending anything live ever again — sports game, concert and anything else — why attend anything live when I can just put on my VR & AR headset?

Why live my life when I have my virtual life on Metaverse?

I never have to live my offline life ever again.

I can permanently stay in the Metaverse.

Snowcrashed.

Ready Player One.

.Hack come to life.

The fictional video game depicted in Angel Sanctuary in the 90s — what the manga & anime was named after — has now come to fruition.

Aol Instant Messenger.

Youve got mail!

Yahoooooooooo.

Goooooooooooooogle results.

Dial up internet.

AOL 1.0.

AOL message boards.

Geocities. Angelfire. 

Netscape Navigator.

Does anyone remember the very recent past?

Non-smart cell phones.

No unlimited data.

No 5G, no 4G, no 3G.

No text messages.

No apps.

No social media.

Do you remember the time?

No streaming apps.

Music videos on TV. MTV. That's what Music Television was.

Music videos debuting on TV not Youtube.

Youtube didnt exist before 2005.

Does anyone remember the time?

When songs were three to four minutes long not two minutes?

When cell phones werent surgically permanently attached to our hands?

When we werent on our cell phones 8 to 12+ hours a day every day?

When social media wasnt ubiquitious?

Do you remember the time?

Project 2025 is a 1000 page policy paper.

Per Google: “This 1000-page synopsis focuses on how the next Republican administration should spend their first 180 days in office on uprooting bureaucracy that they consider to be favoring the liberal political agenda. The director of the project, Paul Dans described the project by its pressing goal of “flooding the zone with conservatives.”  

If successful, Project 2025 would facilitate the firing of approximately 50,000 federal workers. This mass exodus of a major workforce is merely a means to an end for the right-leaning Heritage Foundation and the other conservative corporations co-authoring the Project. They see the firing of career government officials as the most direct route to creating a federal bureaucracy filled with political loyalists.”

I dont have time to read 1000 words, much less a 1000 pages.

Does anyone remember a time before music videos?

Why do you think you havent heard as much about the Democrats version of Project 2025?

Its called the Modern Power Project.

Have you figured out yet that Democrats & Republicans are both controlled by the dark entities that inhabit the center of the planet of the earth?

They are the ones that install Reptilians as figureheads — Biden, Trump, Netanyahu, Blinken, etc.

Look at the eyes.

They are Reptilians.

All US Presidents descend from the same UK royal bloodline. 

Look up the genetic testing that has been done.

They are Reptilians.

The dark entities that inhabit the center of the earth placed a power grid on earth multiple millennia ago designed to keep humanitys consciousness at a lower level indefinitely so that they would be able to enslave & control us.

The Reptilians are their enforcers.

Dark empaths and malignant narcissists are their foot soldiers.

The dark entities that inhabit the center of the earth do not want humanity on a mass level raising their consciousness, experiencing their ego deaths, opening their third eyes, experiencing a kundalini awakening, self-actualizing and self-ascending.

If humanity on a mass level does the above and mass ascends, the planet — earth — will also ascend from our current 3D to 10D multidimensional living.

If you are a starseed, indigo child or angelic empath like me, and like Youneekk, your mission is to do everything you can in your own way for humanity to experience a mass consciousness raising.

Youre not human. 

Its a temporary manifestation.

You are only temporarily manifested as a human. 

Remember who you are.

You are an eternal energetic limitless being that originated in the dreamscape.

Thats all the afterlife is — your imagination.

We all intrinsically know from the time that we are children that we can dream and imagine anything.

Thats all the afterlife — dreamscape — is.

Its a multidimensional dimension that we all have existed in prior to our very, very temporary manifestations as humans for eternity.

Just like the “Big Bang” (Kemetic Explosion), we have existed eternally just like the universe and everything in it.

The creation explosion exploded out in a multifractal explosion of light eternally into the past and present in one eternal moment of creation that created everything — humans, unicorns, angels, dragons, gods, mermaids, whales, dolphins, wizards, magick, spells, fairies, sirens, mages, potions, incantations, poetry, art, music, creative expression, crystal balls…

Please Save My Earth, a 90s anime & manga, is actually real. 

That is why people sent letters to the editor of the publication that the manga was originally serialized in stating that the manga brought back their memories — that they were actually aliens from a distant planet in a past life like the main characters that were sent to Earth in their current life to save the planet from ecological destruction.

Please Save My Earth is just describing starseeds & indigo children as that is our mission and the “past life on a distant planet” represented in the anime and manga is simply remembering that prior to you physically incarnating as a human being when your human parents conceived you, you were a limitless energetic eternal being in the dreamscape — you were highly empathic, sensitive, third eye open, self actualized and self ascended — then the process of incarnating as a physical human being in a 3D realm when your parents conceived you severed you from your true self.

Especially if youre American, you were then raised in a western capitalist society with the number one military and economy in the world — a patrimony, patriarchy, fascistic police state based on systems of inequality oppression and police brutality, white supremacy, free labor from enslaved Africans with no restitution or reparations ever paid to descendants that built this country, genocide of the Native Americans, Trail of Tears, zionist devil, funding the genocide in Palestine & supplying the weapons through Boeing, Raytheon, Northrup Grumman to murder 50k innocent Palestinian civilians, transphobic, homophobic, ableist, might makes right, exploitative, low down and dirty, cutting corners, killing whistleblowers, everybody dog food.

Hyper competition, being treated as a machine, dehumanized, being treated as a robot, a cog in the capitalist machine, being programmed to keep your head down and work, play through injuries, work while sick, “pain is weakness leaving the body”, militaristic, hegemonic, xenophobic, millions of poverty related deaths but povertys never addressed, industrial complex pipelines that lead directly to prison and/or death — foster “care” system, cancer industry, medical industry, pharmaceutical industry, NFL, WWE, adult film industry, NASCAR, PBR, UFC, boxing, psychiatric industry, OTC industry, opioid industry, corporate America, retail, fast food, food service, K-12 indoctrination centers, colleges & universities, US military, Pop Warner, fraternities & sororities, weight loss & diet industries, plastic surgery industry, cosmetics industry, alcohol industry, snack industry, beverage industry, meat industry, self care industry, social media, gaming, streaming, reality TV, big tech, big banks, finserv, Wall Street, Fortune 500, Fortune 100, Fortune 25, Fortune 10, Hollywood, music industry, TV industry, publishing industry, theater & Broadway, dancing, stripping…

Remember who you are…

[wildlittledaisies]

After last night's fury, I finally am able to recognize the way I felt. I would have loved this episode as like an episode 6-7 but we only have three episodes left and it only now seems like they're getting deeper in with their love interests. We went from love of their lives, to best kiss ever and I can't be happy without you in my life. Now suddenly Nancy calls Ace "my ex", does it not feel strange?

I spent a year getting over someone I never dated either, did I like him? Yes but did I think he was the love of my life? No. So, I find it really strange that Nancy and Ace were just like "Alright we can't date, sad. Hey new lover wanna go for dinner?" Within the time span of like what two weeks?

I know the showrunners and writers only found out when they were already writing their season but didn't they already feel like the end was nearing, seeing how many shows were expected to be canceled. Regardless of that, this episode felt off. I know Nancy drowns her feelings by diving head first into a new relationship but still it feels weird and out of character the way everything is going rn.

The only possible satisfying way I see this panning out is that

- Next episode we have a Nancy rescue mission, Ace being worried, Tristan not making it because the ritual failed. (Sorry Tristan but I really don't care for you). But then that would make Nancy be all sad for Tristan which yeah sad but also he's like a centuries old sin eater that people have been using to their advantage.

- Episode 12 would then be the episode where hopefully the whole drew crew works together, we get a final revelation about Nace. I would love a heart to heart about the sin she erased or I don't know because they're making it seem like nace never communicated (I'm here for you, if you wanna talk???)

- Episode 13 is where I feel like we find out what the sin, Nancy had erased was. What would make sense the most would be Nancy erasing her love and feelings for Ace or maybe the pain (you know lust and all that being a sin). Her having this whole speech about Ace, them trying to find a cure and then the last few minutes happy everyone montage.

I trust and love the showrunners, creators and writers but I can't help but feel upset at how rushed everything is feeling. Because if Tristan doesn't die (which he probably won't because he's important until the finale) we will have an extremely rushed timeline which could've been avoided because I don't think anyone was looking for another love triangle/square in a shows final season.

I'm just sad, I can't help but feel nothing towards Nancy x Tristan and Ace x Ghost Girl. Like yeah they're attractive but we've been rooting for them for years and now it just feels like they don't even care that much anymore.

[cuoredimuschio]

wip weekend ✍️

tagged by the incomparable @cheatghost 💙💙💙 (while i have your attention, folks, this is my purely selfish request that you go send some asks lou's way so we can get even more juicy snippets 👀)

rules:

post up to five file names of your wips. post a snippet from one of them. snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days.

after you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. you must then write 3 sentences in that file.

if you’re reading this, you’re invited! if you see someone posting a wip wednesday/weekend game snippet, send them an ask! make them write.

current wips:

line of apsides (my summer challenge that was supposed to be done months ago)

wound up (aka guitar lessons)

the one for shits, giggles, etc where eddie's the prince of the underworld (iykyk)

miracles one-shot (dinner at the munsons')

tagging, with absolutely no pressure whatsoever: @scarcrossdlvrs, @starryeyedjanai, @thefreakandthehair, @patchworkgargoyle, @pizzaqueen, @flowercrowngods

snippet from the one where eddie's the prince of the underworld:

He doesn’t have to ask to know that she’s a god. One far older and far more powerful than him. But what she is not, is who he was expecting. 

She could be, but he finds it very unlikely that the grumbling, grizzly voice that has spoken to him in the past months, passed down from the barred heavens, could come from her mouth. Her hair—what little of it he can see beneath her gleaming bronze helmet—is dark, much like his own. But where his hair meanders in half-hearted curls, hers falls straight as an executioner’s blade and severs at her chin. Her eyes burn, grey flames, yet they’re cold, solemn and piercing as a swordpoint. She bears a shield, much like the one that had been emblazoned in her harbinger, on her left forearm, and in her right hand, she holds a spear; the visage of an owl peers back at him below the gruesome blade.

“Who are you?” He asks, his tongue moving faster than his brain. “Where the fuck’s Wayne?”

She isn’t offended—or at least, not surprised—by his indiscretion. “Indisposed. But he’s not the only one with sympathy for your cause and the power to aid you, cousin.” 

The power he doesn’t doubt, but she doesn’t sound like she has an ounce of sympathy for him nor his cause. She sounds like she’d like for him to fall, ass-first, onto an iron pike on a cold day. Not that there are any cold days around here. Thanks to the magma floods in Asphodel, they hover at bland and balmy, just warm enough to make your balls perpetually swampy. 

“As for who I am,” she continues, “I’ve gone by many names for many years, but for now, you may call me Nancy.”

Nancy?

Blood and darkness. He knows the world has changed—far beyond and above what he can imagine—but names really aren’t what they once were. The flair’s been stripped clean out. In all fairness, though, he doesn't have an excess of room to talk. And he really couldn’t care less what she calls herself if she’s offering him a ticket out of town.

“How exactly are you going to help me here?”

“Allow me to see your sword.”

His hand flies—compulsive and damning—to Stygius, tucked into a deceptively plain scabbard on his left hip. His father—never needy for an excuse—would have his head on a plate in an instant if he knew he’d plundered the Infernal Arms, that he’d even dared to breathe in the same room as the most hallowed weapons ever wielded. 

His fingers clench around the hilt, his body turning ever so slightly away, not that’d he be able to put up much of a fight if it came to that. “What for?”

From Nancy’s stare, he gathers that patience is likely not within her godly purview. That she, rather, offers it by the thimble, and he’s just kicked his one and only portion clear across the room in the space of two words.

“Do you wish to escape or not, cousin?” And yes, there it is, come out from behind the gauzy curtain of formality, the derision he detected. “I can bless your blade, so that it might aid you in your journey toward the surface.”

Eddie blinks. “What? That’s it?”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Gabe Fleisher at Wake Up To Politics:

Historically, the closest parallel to what happened last night is probably the assassination attempt of Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. Like Donald Trump — who was shot in the ear at a campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, on Saturday — Roosevelt was a former president when he survived a gunman’s fire. Also like Trump, Roosevelt at the time was running to reclaim the White House, in the midst of a campaign speech in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Finally, and most importantly, the attempts on both men’s lives will likely be best remembered for their defiance in the face of a would-be assassin. In his case, Roosevelt continued delivering his speech, even as a bullet was lodged in his chest. “It takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose,” he famously declared, going on to speak for another 50 minutes before seeking medical attention. Secret Service protocols would not allow such a display today; still, the attack on Trump will forever be defined by this instantly iconic image, of Trump’s face streaked with blood, his fist raised in the air, the American flag waving behind him. It has been 44 years since a federal elected official (Allard Lowenstein, a New York congressman) was successfully assassinated in the United States, a streak that often masks the fact that political violence has been steadily increasing over the last decade.

This is not the 1960s — when a president, a presidential candidate, and several civil rights leaders were killed in a five-year period — but more from a lack of successes than a lack of trying. It has not been an era, thank God, of murdered politicians, but it has been one of dangerously close shaves. On January 6, 2021, rioters came within 40 feet of then-Vice President Mike Pence, as Trump supporters chanted for his hanging and searched for then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA), among others. Less than two years later, Pelosi’s husband sustained an attack by hammer; if a police dispatcher had not understood his coded messaging, he may have ended up with worse than just a skull fracture. In 2017, doctors told Rep. Steve Scalise (R-LA) that he had been “within a minute of death” after being shot at a congressional baseball practice. Then-Rep. Gabby Giffords (D-AZ) also survived gunfire, but she has never fully regained the ability of speech after a 9-millimeter bullet cut through her brain in 2011.

A man made it just outside of Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s house in 2022, armed with a pistol, knife, hammer, crow bar, and zip ties, but his assassination plot was foiled when he called the police himself, his second thoughts having taken over. Someone made it even closer to then-Rep. Lee Zeldin (R-NY) one month later, climbing on stage during a gubernatorial campaign rally; thankfully, the attacker was armed only with a keychain. Quantifiably, according to a University of Maryland database, political violence since 2016 has been at its highest levels in the U.S. since the 1970s. Before 2016, the U.S. Capitol Police had never opened more than 1,000 threat investigations in a single year; last year, more than 8,000 threats against members of Congress were investigated. Similarly, “investigated threats against federal judges have risen every year since 2018,” according to the U.S. Marshals Service, while election officials are also facing an unprecedented level of menace.

The threats were all able to be foiled, but several — like the bullet that whizzed just inches away from Trump on Saturday — came horrifyingly close to fruition. And oftentimes, even as the politicians live, others become collateral damage of our toxic politics. Yesterday, at least one American was killed simply for attending a political rally of their preferred presidential candidate. [...] Rarely do Democratic or Republican officials stop to acknowledge that their own side might have a role to play in our divisive politics. Instead, when horrors like last night’s unfold, each side reliably finds a way to blame the other party, which only serves to exacerbate further the cycle of hatred and violence that brought us to this point. Even in their responses to tragedy, more toxicity flows loose.

Gabe Fleisher details in his Wake Up To Politics newsletter the history of close calls that would have resulted in the death of various politicians over the past decade and a half or so, such as Gabby Giffords, Paul Pelosi, Steve Scalise, Mike Pence, and most recently, Donald Trump.