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serasvictoria · 1 year ago

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Title: Roller Queen

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…

Word Count: 6997

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.

There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.

Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.

All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.

Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.

So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.

He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.

The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.

It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.

Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.

So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.

Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.

Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.

The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.

Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.

There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).

As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.

Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.

Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.

This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.

He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-

Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.

All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.

Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.

When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?

The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.

That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.

There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.

“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.

It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.

So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.

It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.

There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.

Not now.

The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.

Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.

You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.

That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.

A fellow nerd.

An older fellow nerd.

An attractive, older fellow nerd.

Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.

In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.

It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.

The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.

“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”

“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.

“So why’re you here then?”

“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”

“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”

“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.

“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.

Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?

‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’

Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.

Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.

Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.

God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.

Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.

“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.

You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.

“Thought you were good.”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”

“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”

“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”

There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.

“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.

“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”

Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.

Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.

“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yeah?”

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.

The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.

He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-

You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.

“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”

“Which ones?”

“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”

“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”

“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.

Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.

On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-

“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”

You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.

“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”

“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”

Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.

Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Hey, wh-”

-at the hell.

The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.

There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.

Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.

“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”

“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”

“Wh- are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”

“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”

“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”

Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.

Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.

There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.

“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”

“You use that line a lot?”

The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.

“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”

“You could get to know me. If you want to.”

“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”

Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.

His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just an honest one.”

“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”

“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”

“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”

“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”

“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.

You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.

Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.

When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.

Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.

You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.

“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”

Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.

Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.

So he does.

This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”

He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.

Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.

Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.

It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.

Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”

Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.

His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.

Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.

“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”

“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”

You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.

“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”

“Who’s teasing?”

“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”

“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.

“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”

“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”

Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.

“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.

“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”

“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.

Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.

If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.

His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.

Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.

Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.

“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.

“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.

“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”

“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“

“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”

Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.

“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.

“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”

The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.

Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.

“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”

“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”

“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.”

“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”

You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.

“Fuck.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”

And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes

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worth-the-chaos · 11 months ago

Text

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: With the events of last fall in the past, you attempt to move on, still working on your academics and babysitting Dustin. You and Steve have drifted since your encounter with the otherworldly, but he begins to make more active efforts to talk to you, making sure you have an invite to Tina’s big Halloween party.

Content Warning: swearing, stancy, reference to upside down stuff, billy being an ass, college application stress, drinking, anxiety and trauma

Word Count: 6.3k

Author’s Note: Again, I’m trying to follow a lot of the plot lines of the series for this x reader, so a lot of it is probably a bit familiar! This part follows the reader’s involvement through Halloween, when things begin to turn sour again.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Next Part

***

You took a deep breath as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Half-dressed for the day, your eyes couldn’t help but focus on the scars that littered your upper arm, remembering when they used to be deep gashes.

It had been about a year since you stood in the Byers’ house fighting for your life against the horrifying entity from what the kids elected to call the Upside Down. Though your physical wounds had healed, the emotional ones still lingered. Every once in a while, fear invaded your consciousness as you thought back to the flashing lights and the low growl resonating through the small family room. Sometimes when you closed your eyes, you could still see the rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, inching closer and closer to your face.

It was paralyzing, but you shoved those thoughts and feelings aside as you threw a long sleeve shirt on, covering the physical evidence of your fight against the supernatural. Stop thinking about that, you reminded yourself, it’s all over now.

The walk to Hawkins High wasn’t terribly long, though you did still wish you were fortunate enough to afford a vehicle of your own. Once you finally reached the parking lot, a car honk drew you from your thoughts and you were met with the familiar face of the one and only Steve Harrington as he smiled and waved from the driver’s seat. Sat next to him was Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s talk with her in the hospital evidently had been successful because they’d been back together since then, coming up on their first anniversary. You found it difficult to be happy for the couple, but you pushed the jealousy down in your chest and did a small wave back, a half smile on your face. Nancy didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm as Steve, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

The window suddenly rolled down and Steve called out, “Hey y/n! I’ll see you in study hall! I have a question for you!”

“Okay…? See you then, I guess,” you responded, a bit surprised. Since last year, Steve had rethought his life choices. He wasn’t the same douchebag he’d been when he broke Jonathan’s camera and called Nancy a slut. He dropped Tommy H and Carol, started focusing a bit more on school, and was generally a lot nicer than he used to be. However, despite the way you both risked your lives together, blindsided by the paranormal darkness lurking in Hawkins, you both kind of fell out of touch.

He had Nancy and you had…well, you had your studies. And your babysitting gig. One year strong babysitting the Henderson kid, and only one apocalyptic encounter. Needless to say, you were doing pretty damn good.

Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching on the pavement drew the focus of the three of you away from the semi-awkward encounter, watching as a car with California plates peeled into the parking lot. A boy you didn’t recognize stepped out of the car, flicking his cigarette behind him. A young girl emerged from the passenger seat, turning and making her way down the hill in the direction of Hawkins Middle.

You scoffed, being the impeccable babysitter that you were. Was this guy really too lazy to drop his kid sister off at her school that was less than a block away?

He swung his car door shut and paused, looking you up and down before sending a wink and smirk your direction and turning to make his way into the high school. Your hands gripped your backpack straps a little tighter, feeling like an object to be used or consumed under his gaze. You didn’t have a good feeling about this boy, and something told you that Hawkins High had found its replacement for the King Steve that disappeared when Harrington wisened up last year.

“Who is that guy?” You suddenly heard Steve’s voice ask, annoyance painted on his face. He wasn’t too thrilled with the way he had looked at you. Steve knew the type of guy he was; the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and in that moment despite the countless girls drooling over his dumbass mullet, he had zeroed in on you.

“Must be new,” you responded, forcing a smile in an attempt to demonstrate that the mystery boy’s actions hadn’t fazed you. You fought an otherworldly entity; surely you could handle some asshole jock. In a way, you already had, and look how that turned out.

“The two of you should steer clear of him. He’s bad news,” Steve warned. Nancy and you didn’t argue, nodding before you took off to enter the building so you wouldn’t be late for first period.

By the time you were on your way to third period study hall, you had already spent the morning contemplating what Steve could possibly have to ask you. It was your junior year, his senior, and while you were taking it for the extra study time, he was taking it to avoid coursework from one more class, largely using it as a time to take a school sanctioned nap. As such, normally you didn’t interact much during the one hour break from boring lectures and busy work.

“Hey,” Steve whispered as he slid into the chair next to you, a stark juxtaposition to the way he slammed his textbooks on the desk, causing you to jump.

“What? Not taking your spot in the back corner so you can sleep without Mrs. Reed giving you shit?” You asked, staring up at him innocently.

“Actually, I was thinking I could get us out of here for the hour.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to happen?”

“I’ll put on the old Harrington charm…just watch,” he smirked as he stood up, grabbing you by the elbow to drag you to the teacher’s desk. Mrs. Reed was not the type of person to mess with. She wore her hair up in a slicked back bun that meant business, wearing a scowl like it was an accessory. You seriously doubted the “Harrington charm” was going to do shit to get you out of that classroom.

She glared at the boy through her thin wire glasses, clearly not in the mood for his shenanigans. “Is there a problem?” She droned out, her expression fixing further into annoyance, if that was even possible.

“Actually, Mrs. Reed, I’m afraid there is,” he started, “you see, y/n here was just telling me about how she has this big presentation in her fourth hour class, and she was really hoping for an opportunity to practice. Is there any possible way you’d be so gracious as to let us utilize one of the study rooms in the library? I mean, we can’t go letting Hawkins’ star pupil do anything less than ace this thing, am I right?”

He shook you by your shoulders a bit at the end, and even though the compliment was nothing more than a lie, you still flushed under the praise. It wasn’t everyday that you got complimented in front of your entire study hall class by the most popular student in the school.

“Is that so, y/n?” She turned to you.

“You know me and my nerves, Mrs. Reed; I could really use the help. And besides, Steve is probably about the most rowdy audience I could possibly have, so presenting after this will be a piece of cake,” you pasted a smile on your face. You felt bad lying to her; she’d been a pretty decent English teacher your sophomore year.

“Fine. Don’t worry about coming back before the end of the hour. I know I can trust you to keep Harrington in line,” she answered, glaring at Steve before turning back to the work on her desk, done with the bullshit of high school students; the good ones and the bad ones alike.

You both quickly thanked her before Steve grabbed both of your backpacks and you headed out the door.

“Okay, if I’m going to be completely honest, I was about 85% sure that wasn’t going to work. Mrs. Reed fucking hates me…like a lot,” Steve breathed out as he tossed you your bag, his cocky facade finally dissipating as he continued down the hall.

“This better be a good fucking question, Steve,” you grumbled, not happy about the lie he forced you into, “what am I supposed to do if she asks me about my presentation? What am I supposed to do if she talks to Mr. Hayes?”

“Woah, woah, woah, cool your jets,” he rolled his eyes, “Mrs. Reed is probably a year or two away from retirement and barely even cares about the shit she’s teaching, so I think you’re going to be fine.”

You entered the library, quickly moving to one of the study rooms. You tossed your bag on the floor, already tired from the day and not fully emotionally prepared to spend an hour one on one with Steve.

“Alright, what’s the deal?” You asked as you sat in one of the chairs, crossing your arms as your face fixed into a glare.

“Well, first of all, here,” he shoved an obnoxiously orange flyer at you. You grabbed it a bit aggressively, still not super happy with the boy in front of you. He had a dorky-ass grin on his face though, and it almost broke the cold exterior you were trying to keep up….almost.

“‘Tina’s Halloween Bash, come and get sheet faced,’ are you kidding me? This is what we’re skipping study hall for? Dude, I have an AP chem test this week that I really needed to study for,” you whined, shoving the flyer back at him.

“No, of course this isn’t the reason we’re skipping. I may be dumb, but I’m not an idiot,” he said as he shoved the flyer back at you, “It’s just…I know you never go out, a-and—and it’s Halloween! You can’t stay in on Halloween! Plus, Nancy and I are going to be there, so it’ll be fun, I swear it.”

He leaned across the table, the elbow of his right arm settling right in the middle as he reached his hand towards you. Your focus shifted to his extended pinky. You looked at him incredulously as he waggled it a few times, looking at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes. This boy was going to be the death of you, but you wrapped your small pinky around his anyway.

“I’ll consider it. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“You know what, I’ll take it. Which brings me to my next topic, and pretty much the entire reason for this in the first place, which is that Nancy thinks my application essay sucks and I really need some fucking help,” Steve leaned back while he ran his hands down his face.

You felt a pang in your heart because you knew how stressful this all probably was for the boy. You’d been smart and planned accordingly, so getting into colleges wasn’t the part that was stressing you out; it was the finances that did. Steve on the other hand had screwed around for two and a half years and now somehow needed to manage turning things around enough so that he had even a fighting chance.

“Just give it to me,” you sighed and he quickly handed over the essay he had written.

Steve watched your eyes scan the page as you read the words that he had spent the last week writing. He was a bit embarrassed, to say the least; he had taken one English class with you last semester and knew that he didn’t even write half as well as you did. Hell, Nancy didn’t even come close and her writing was really, really good.

“You…you compared winning a basketball game to your grandfather fighting in the war?” You asked incredulously.

“…yeah?”

“Steve.”

“I know, I know! It’s bad, but that’s why I need your help! I was gonna have Nancy help me but we have this thing tonight and I can’t miss it and—“

You cut him off. “Steve, stop talking. I can help you…but I think you’re going to have to rewrite this whole thing.”

Steve hung his head and buried his face in his hands. Of course I’m gonna have to rewrite the damn thing because it can never just be fucking easy. He felt your hands pull on his wrist and he looked up, finding you staring at him sweetly. A bit pitying, but it was still sweet. With that, some of his anger subsided and he took a deep breath.

“You just need to find something more meaningful to you. I mean, I can tell your heart really isn’t in this. Besides, sometimes the best essays are about the things you’ve lost, not the things you’ve won.”

Steve thought about this. He lived a pretty privileged life. He didn’t want for anything, his future was pretty much set so long as he took the job at his dad’s company, he had the girl, the car, the hair, etc. Sure, his parents kind of really, really sucked but that was small potatoes compared to all of the things he had easy. It was hard to think of something he really, truly lost.

He almost had lost you.

His thoughts flashed to the demogorgon, the way his heart stopped and instinct took over as he had swung the bat with all his might to get the damn thing away from you. He pushed the thought away and suddenly he wasn’t interested in working on this essay anymore.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m gonna need some time to brainstorm some things to write about, but in the meantime, how about we focus on that AP chem test, huh? I mean, there’s no way you don’t have color-coded flash cards and all that jazz”

“Steve, you really don’t have to. I’m sure you have a lot better things to do than to help me cram for some dumb test.”

“Hey, first of all, if it’s important to you, it’s not dumb. Secondly, I might be a shit learner, but I’m a pretty damn good quizzer, so hand ‘em over,” he motioned for you to hand him your index cards as you sheepishly pulled them out of your backpack in their color-coded glory.

“How could I have possibly known?” He feigned surprise.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

***

When all was said and done, you felt moderately better about your AP chem test. Steve wasn’t lying when he said he was a good quizzer; by now, you had every word on every one of those damn cards memorized. During your walk to the Henderson household, you pulled the bright orange flyer out of your pocket. You couldn’t help but smile thinking back to Steve inviting you. He wanted you to be there.

“Y/n!” Dustin drew you out of your thoughts as you quickly shoved the flyer back into your back pocket. The middle school and the high school let out at the same time. He wasn’t far behind you, sat atop his bike as he hopped off and walked with it next to him so he could talk to you.

“You can ride your bike home. I seriously doubt you can get into any serious sort of trouble in the five minutes it takes me to catch up,” you reminded him, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true; in fact, the boy was such a problem sometimes that you considered upping your rate to charge his mom for hazard pay.

“First off, I think you underestimate how much faster I can get home on my bike than you can on foot. Secondly, what was that you just put in your pocket?”

“It-It’s nothing,” you said maybe a little too quickly as your face heated up.

“Bullshit. Spill.”

You sighed. “It’s just some stupid flyer for a big Halloween party. Nothing that concerns you, unless you somehow age several years in the next few days and are suddenly eligible to attend,” you joked, sarcasm lacing your tone as you tried to gather your bearings and act more casual. He didn’t need to know that, to you, it was more than just some Halloween party; it was a Halloween party that Steve Harrington had invited you to.

“You don’t go to parties though,” Dustin was quick to remind you. He was right. Sure, early on in high school you’d been invited to a few, but after you continued to decline, people stopped reaching out.

“Well…there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” you muttered.

“Are you gonna dress up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who invited you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Was it a guy?”

“No!”

“So it was a guy!” Dustin exclaimed. You rolled your eyes and jogged ahead, trying to put some distance between you and the incessant questioning of the boy you had the great misfortune of babysitting.

“Your silence is incriminating!” He shouted after you, unable to run very gracefully while attempting to guide a bike around.

You shook your head and sighed. Could babysitting Henderson ever be easy?

***

You walked towards Tina’s house feeling more than just stupid. You didn’t even know Tina super well outside of her always bumming notes off of you when she missed fifth period French. After your conversation with Dustin, you began considering the many elements of a Halloween party that had slipped your mind when you pinky promised Steve you’d go. You hadn’t thought about a costume because, frankly, you hadn’t initially been planning on doing anything for Halloween; it was just going to be another Wednesday for you.

As such, you had decided not to dress up, instead opting to pick apart your closet to find clothes that would maybe scream “party,” settling on your favorite pair of jeans, a low cut black tank top, and a denim jacket. So, yeah, you weren’t in costume, but at least your tits had kind of showed up to the party, so you decided that was good enough.

The mess of bodies dancing at different levels of sobriety made it difficult to navigate the front lawn and you hoped with all your might that Steve and Nancy were already there. You got closer to the front door when you heard the headache inducing sounds of high school testosterone as a bunch of the douchebags from Hawkins High hyped up Mr. California for doing an absurdly long keg stand.

Gee. Great.

As you reached to grasp the doorknob to let yourself into the party, a hand from behind you slammed the door back shut just as soon as you had opened it. You were met eye to eye with the mullet headed, leather jacket wearing douchebag himself. Something was off about this boy (besides the fact that he was unbelievably hammered), and you thought back to Steve’s warning to stay away.

“Hey,” he slurred as he looked you up and down, his eyes pausing longer than they should’ve when they reached your chest. You felt small under his hungry gaze, but you refused to allow yourself to visibly shrink so you straightened your posture and forced your chin up as you looked him in the eye.

“Excuse you,” you muttered as you tried to pull on the door handle again. Obviously it didn’t budge, and he laughed at your attempt. You scowled as you met his eyes again. “What’s your deal, man?”

“The name’s Billy. Billy Hargrove,” he shot you a smirk that screamed trouble as he extended his hand towards you, offering up a handshake.

What a total ass. Fortunately though, he was cocky enough to think that striking up a conversation would cause you to stay, removing his hand from the door, so you took the opportunity to maneuver past him, opening the door and slipping inside.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” you added before slamming the door in his face. You saw the look of shock flash across his features before he disappeared from view and you couldn’t help but feel good about it. The feeling quickly dissipated though as you attempted to weave around the living room, nearly tripping as you made your way into the kitchen where you met Nancy.

“What’s in this?” She was asking a guy in a toga. You recognized him from your second period class, but you didn’t know his name.

“Pure fuel! Pure fuel! Whoo!” He shouted back at her, and you realized you were perfectly fine not getting to know him.

“Well, with that ringing endorsement, we’d be dumb not to have a little, right?” You chuckled and Nancy spun around at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n, you made it,” she said, smile not really touching her eyes, “Steve wasn’t sure you were going to show.” Both of you dipped red solo cups into the questionable mixture, filling them up with the red mix of booze and punch.

“Yep, here I am. In the flesh,” you laughed again, trying to dispel the awkward energy. Something about her seemed off; normally she would be much more friendly. You hoped that you hadn’t done anything to upset her. “Nancy, is everything okay?” You asked quietly as you gently grabbed her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she replied as her jaw set and her tone told you not to push the question. You let go of her wrist and nodded, letting her know that you were going to let it go for now. Her body relaxed and you lifted up your cup toward her.

“Cheers?” You asked with a half smile on your face. This earned you a small smile from the girl as she brought her cup up to tap yours. You smiled and both of you brought your cups to your lips, you taking a small sip while she threw her head back and downed the whole glass.

“Hey! Woah, woah, woah, take it easy! Nance!” Steve was suddenly beside you, reaching across you to try and grab the cup out of her hand.

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn’t that the deal?” She glared at him before downing more punch, wiping away the bit that spilled onto her face, and shoving her way into the crowd to dance.

Steve’s expression fell a bit as he watched her leave, but his focus shifted to you. “Sorry about that. She’s just…in a bit of a mood today,” he apologized and shook his head, “but I’m so glad you’re here! I mean, I was pretty sure you were gonna bail on me considering I know for a fact that you were invited to some of my house parties last year and you didn’t show.”

“How dare I, right?” You rolled your eyes and chuckled. It’s true. You had been invited to his parties, especially after your encounter with the demogorgon had brought the two of you together in a weird but irreversible way. You would always have that experience, but you weren’t interested in changing for him. Besides, he was never the one to personally extend the invitation, instead you heard about it from someone else every time.

“You aren’t in costume.”

“Way to point out the obvious,” you retorted, finishing your first cup of punch. Steve shot you a look, clearly not trusting that you knew your limits with alcohol. “You’re joking, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seems a bit hypocritical for the king of parties himself to be judgmental about someone else’s drinking habits.”  “Well, it’s exactly that. I don’t get the impression that you have drinking habits, and if it’s your first time drinking, you should watch yourself, you know? Can’t fault me for looking out for a friend,” he added and you bristled a bit at that last word. Friend.

“Y/n, what?” He asked, noticing your reaction. You sighed before responding, not really sure how this conversation was going to go.

“So…we’re friends now?” You asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

Steve was taken aback, clearly confused by your confusion. “What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Y/n, we went through so much together last year, I mean, did you really think I was just gonna drop you like all that shit didn’t matter?”

“You kind of did. It’s not like we hang out or really talk or anything remotely close to what friends would do. We’re just two people who know each other a little bit better than we did. I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘being friends’,” you responded, putting air quotes around the final words. You hoped that your statement didn’t hurt him. It was the truth though. Your shoulders tensed as you awaited his response.

“You know what? You’re right y/n, and I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to keep in touch, and I’m not going to make any excuses. So let’s just start over, okay?” He asked, his big brown eyes staring into yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you nodded, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you.

“Alright, perfect,” he smiled, and suddenly he extended his hand towards you, “hey, I’m Steve. I don’t know you but you seem pretty tough, and like you might have some killer fighting instincts, so I thought we could be friends.”

You laughed. Like really laughed, and Steve was beaming. You wiped away a tear that slipped from your eye as you took a breath to regain your composure. It was all so absurd and perfect and so incredibly Steve that you couldn’t help but accept his offer. You willed your palms not to sweat as you grabbed his hand and shook it, “Well, I’m y/n, and yeah, you’re right; I do have some pretty kick-ass instincts, but I can’t promise it will keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s okay because I’ve got some pretty kick-ass moves myself, so I think we’ve got it covered,” he added, smiling at you. He let go of your hand before saying “well, Nancy’s probably halfway to being shit faced, so we should probably go party it up with her while her memory’s still intact.”

You nodded as you turned to exit the kitchen, Steve placing a hand on your back as he guided you through the mess of people dancing to get to Nancy. It was fun to let loose and dance, and you wondered why you hadn’t let yourself party like this before. It felt freeing, and you felt the slight buzz from the drinks that you’d had as you let your body move to the music that was almost too loud to hear yourself think.

Suddenly, you felt hands around your waist, and you instantly sobered up, remembering a big part of why you didn’t like parties: asshole guys who were just looking for a quick hook up.

“Hey!” You shouted as you turned around, eyes met with the same piercing blue ones from earlier.

“Woah, no need to get all angry, baby. I gotta say it’s pretty hot though,” Billy chuckled as he moved his hands to grab at your waist again. You maneuvered away from his grasp, swatting his hands away.

“Can’t you tell I’m not fucking interested,” you replied.

“Baby, come on—“

You cut him off, “I’m not your fucking baby.”

“No need to be a bitch about it, come on. Can’t have a little fun?”

“She said she’s not interested, dude. Leave her alone,” Steve spoke up, having realized the position you were in. He moved to stand between the two of you, pulling you by the wrist behind him. Nancy was pretty wasted but aware enough to act, as she took your hand and pulled you farther away, weaving through the crowd to create some distance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware that you had two girlfriends, Harrington. I mean, I’m shocked you even have the one to begin with,” Billy retorted, taking a step towards Steve.

Steve stood his ground, knowing it wasn’t worth it to get heated over Billy’s comments. Billy just wanted to get a rise out of him and Steve wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction.

“I’m just looking out for a girl that needs help. If you’re not going to listen to her maybe you’ll listen to a guy, okay? So walk away.”

“Whatever, Harrington,” Billy replied as he shoved Steve in the shoulder and turned around to walk away. Tommy H was hot on his heels, a mindless dummy and fair weather fan to whoever he deemed to be top dog at any given moment.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Steve caught up with you and Nancy.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ugh, I just hate assholes, like come on!” You exclaimed, hugging your arms around yourself in an attempt to be self-soothing.

Steve opened his mouth to apologize when he realized Nancy was going back to the punch bowl. He quickly pivoted, following her into the kitchen. “Nancy, no, you’ve had enough, okay?” He said as he tried to grab the cup out of her hand again like he had earlier.

“Screw you,” she slurred, pulling her hand out of his reach and dunking her cup in the bowl.

“No, Nancy, I’m serious! Stop…Nance, put it down,” he warned, grabbing at the cup again. Nancy continued to protest, and Steve continued to fight it until he lost his grip on the cup and its bright red contents went spilling onto Nancy’s pristine white shirt. An audible gasp rang out through the party as those in the near vicinity stopped their dancing to gawk at Hawkins’ power couple’s power struggle.

“What the hell?” Nancy whispered as she stormed out of the room, and Steve pushed past you to follow, yelling after her. And just like that, you were alone. Without Steve and Nancy’s presence to calm you down, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat. You scanned the crowd, trying to find anyone that you knew moderately well enough to crash their group, and when you found no one, you cursed yourself for being such a loner. That was until your eyes met Jonathan Byers’, dressed equally un-festively, and you sighed a huge sigh of relief.

“Jonathan!” You shouted over the music, making your way over to him. Clearly he had seen what just transpired between Nancy and Steve, eyes darting back to focus on the hallway they’d disappeared down.

“Hey, y/n. What just happened?”

“Nancy’s pretty wasted and Steve was trying to cut her off and he spilled her drink on her. They’re probably in the bathroom trying to clean it up, though I doubt it’ll do any good. That punch is definitely going to stain.”

You didn’t know Jonathan super well, but you resonated with him. Both of you were more inclined to keep to yourselves, but via absurd and inter-dimensional means, ended up intertwined in the lives of your high school’s most popular couple. You saw the way he looked at Nancy when they talked, and it wasn’t dissimilar to how you looked at Steve; wanting for something that you couldn’t have but settling for what you did.

The two of you found a quiet corner and continued to make small talk, catching up on each other’s lives since you didn’t talk much. Jonathan told you about how Will was struggling, still visiting Hawkins’ Lab for appointments in an attempt to sort out his PTSD.

“The doctor says it’s some anniversary effect, and how since we’re coming up on a year, he’s just more on edge than usual. He’s been having these episodes though.”

“Episodes?”

“Yeah, they’re kind of like these waking nightmares I guess. He’s still scared out of his mind, y/n,” Jonathan explained, and you saw the pain in his expression. Your heart ached and you felt a lump in your throat as you thought about the way the poor kid was struggling. You wished you could just make it all go away, that you could erase it ever happening in the first place.

“And you trust this guy? The doctor I mean?” You asked hesitantly.

“He seems like a good guy. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s being completely transparent. I guess I’m on edge too. It just seems like everyone’s bracing for something else to happen,” Jonathan added, and you felt the tension in your shoulders as he said it.

Suddenly, Steve stormed through the family room, Nancy noticeably absent. He quickly maneuvered through the crowd, reaching the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

You looked at Jonathan. “Divide and conquer?” You asked, knowing that the two of you were going to have to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened between the two of them. Jonathan quickly nodded, as you dropped your prior conversation. “Okay, I don’t have a car and Nancy’s not in a state to walk home, so you take care of her and I’ll handle Steve,” you added as you started walking backwards to make your way towards the door.

“Are you sure? He seems pretty mad.”

“I’ve handled worse!” You shouted back as you turned and swiftly made it out the door. Your eyes scanned the front lawn, still littered with people, but they quickly found the brown mop of hair that you had become familiar with just as he was reaching his car.

“Steve!” You shouted, but he ignored you, fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the door. By the time he finally managed to get it unlocked and opened, you had grabbed the side of the door so he couldn’t close it and drive off.

“Y/n, just leave me alone, okay? I’m seriously not in the mood,” he warned, his head hung as he tried desperately to avoid eye contact with you. His voice wavered a bit and you could tell by his body language that he was pretty upset.

“No, I’m not going to leave you alone; you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Then get in the car because I’m not fucking staying here,” he sighed and you hesitated before moving around to the passenger seat.

“What happened?” You gently asked as he began to pull away from Tina’s house, the night that you had all been anticipating clearly ending in disaster.

“Oh, you know, just Nancy saying that our relationship is pretty much complete and utter bullshit which is what every guy wants to hear from the woman that he loves,” he replied. His announcement of his love for Nancy stung, but you pushed it aside; this wasn’t about your feelings.

“What do you mean? What’s going on? You guys always seem so happy together,” you were honestly pretty shocked. They were the perfect couple; the kind of people who would end up high school sweethearts and the talk of every high school reunion. It couldn’t possibly all be bullshit.

“The Hollands are selling their house to pay some private investigator to find Barb.”

Oh.

Your stomach dropped and suddenly your body seemed to remember the alcohol you had consumed.

“Steve, stop the car.”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on? Are you—“

You cut him off, shouting “just stop the damn car! Now!” The car screeched to a halt as he slammed his foot on the brake pedal. You quickly opened the door, retching onto the desolate backroad that you were currently on. Steve rubbed big circles across your back as your stomach emptied its contents. When you were done, you shut the door, tears running down your face.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. Sometimes I just forget about all of it; push it all away because I’m not ready to handle it and I just think about what it was like to be face to face with th-that—that thing and I can’t imagine what Barb’s final moments were like and I just—“ your sobs cut you off, unable to speak through your horror in contemplating Barb’s death.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay y/n. I’m right here,” Steve reminded you, pulling you into a hug as you buried your face in his neck. He held onto you until you were able to calm down and you pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry. I monopolized your turn being the one in crisis,” you let out a weak laugh, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you sniffled.

“No, honestly that was helpful. I think I get where Nancy’s coming from a little better now. Maybe she didn’t really mean all that shit about us, you know?” He rationalized.

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, your voice small.

“Hey, don’t disappear on me now. We’re handling this crisis together and we’re putting it behind us, okay? So what’s going on?”

“It’s just…I was almost her,” you whispered, looking in horror at Steve.

“What?”

“I was almost Barb. If you hadn’t shown up—“

“Y/n, don’t think like that. You can’t think like that. It’s going to eat away at you. You’re here. I’m here. And we’re okay,” it seemed like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You nodded, not entirely persuaded but ready to be done with the conversation. “Alright, where to?”

“Just mine, you know,” you said quietly, embarrassed that Steve was going to see your house. It was dinky compared to the Harrington residence. You knew he wouldn’t care, but you couldn’t help but feel inferior.

“Sure thing,” he replied as he put the car in drive, as you both attempted to put the evening’s sourness behind you. You chatted and caught up on all of the normal things you’d missed as you’d drifted apart this past year and by the time he reached your house, you felt a little bit better about things.

If only the two of you knew about the danger that was still lurking right under your feet.

***

a/n: I hoped y’all liked this chapter! I’m so excited to continue this story as we unpack all of the upside down nonsense of season 2! I’m new to this whole writing fanfic thing, so if you really liked it, I would be forever grateful if you would be so kind as to reblog it! It really helps it get to other people!

#steve harrington x reader #joe keery #stranger things #netflix #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington the babysitter #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers

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ghostlycleric · 4 months ago

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Season 5 Wheeler Chairs (Free Me From This Content Drought PLEASE)

Everyone moved on, but I’m still here. And bored. In fact, I am so insanely bored that I am actually going to analyze the chair placement in this picture. I also actually skimmed through the entirety of seasons 1 and 2 looking for the photos below. I managed to find some (small) new things.

We barely ever see this room, so here’s two moments I found. [While most realize the Wheelers don’t need that many chairs, I just want to prove the extra ones are meaningful.]

The chairs in the new photo are absolutely abnormal. There’s much more space between them in the bottom photo and in the scene the top photo is from. It’s not just part of a chair set, they were put there.

We can also see a matching one behind Mike in the top picture. The Wheelers put extra chairs away. That one is probably Holly’s, as she was still in a different chair in that scene.

We saw the non-matching extra chair already in season 1. It’s next to Ted (where one of their actual dinner chairs is in the new set photo).

We know absolutely for a fact that at least 2 extra people needed a seat in whatever scene this is for. This almost confirms that we will be getting a Wheeler breakfast sequence with 2 new members.

What is the scene, then?

Possibility 1:

I’m most inclined to believe that Will and Jonathan temporarily stay with the Wheelers at the start of season 5. (While Hopper, Joyce, and El stay at the cabin.) The cabin is too small for all the Hopper-Byers, so Joyce might trust Karen to take care of Will and Jonathan. El would obviously want to stay with Hopper. Plus, why would they be fixing the cabin at the end of s4 if they didn’t want to use it?

This would also explain why Will was with Mike and Holly in the biking scene. Maybe he’s stuck babysitting Holly with Mike cause he lives there, or maybe they have some routine of escorting Holly to or from school?

This scene could be a staple Wheeler family breakfast we see in the beginning of other seasons. This time, though, it introduces us to the fact that Will and Jonathan are living with the Wheelers.

Possibility 2:

If it’s not a breakfast sequence, it could be some sort of party meeting. Why wouldn’t they have this in the basement? I don’t know. It can’t be because they were in a rush because why would they bother getting other chairs? Still a possibility, though.

Possibility 3:

It could also be some sort of sleepover. Maybe somebody stays the night and they get extra chairs for breakfast (because Wheeler hospitality). This would be similar to possibility 1, but just revealing some other plot point.

A picture of a dinning room can’t really spoil a scene all that much, unfortunately.

What Happened to the Dinner Table?

Also, the dinner table doesn’t have any chairs. They’re weirdly positioned against the wall, and there’s only 2 of them. I can’t think of any explanation for that, to be completely honest. Maybe the dinner table set is just incomplete?

…Which is also a possibility for the breakfast table, but the set looks pretty complete to me. Why would they post it as the focus of a picture if it wasn’t? I don’t think they’d fully set a table for 7 people for no reason. It’s not like a set worker pulled up a chair to sit in while working.

Possibility 2 Sucks

Also based on the fact that the table is set for 7, I can totally rule out the party meeting idea. Why would they meticulously set up the table to eat if they weren’t focused on eating? Unless it’s late in the season, and the Wheelers aren’t staying at the Wheelers but other people are. That’s super unlikely, though.

In conclusion:

Two people stay at the Wheelers for at least one night, and Karen knows they’re there. She prepares the breakfast table for extra people. We probably get a breakfast scene with them early season like usual.

[We should be getting something about the Wheeler Basement any day now from the polls the ST Broadcast Channel held two weeks ago. Maybe there will be evidence of somebody sleeping down there… Will and/or Jonathan? If not, that wouldn’t totally disprove the ‘they stay at the Wheelers theory’, but it’d make it less likely.]

#byler #byler endgame #anti mileven #st5 leaks #st5 speculation #i never want to write the word chair again #will staying at the wheelers is so real to me #i am choosing to believe it until season 5 comes out tbh #cornplating is my specialty and im proud #if anyone has any other possibility ideas please share #the only thing that trips me up with will staying with the wheelers is the timeskip #would the byers really not buy a house for an entire year #but then again how would they get the money to do that in a year

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bludnik-a · 10 months ago

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mature/explicit byler fic recs??? 👁👄👁

hi nonni!!

quick disclaimer that if ur not comfortable / not ready to explore this type of content u can just scroll past this post. I'll hide fics under the cut.

let start with explicit

"Pink in the Night" by yamilumen. Winter break after first semester of college. Will is drunk, and Mike takes care of him. The morning after, they must face the consequences. TW for dubcon ig. One of the first that I read and still one of my faves. looove byler dynamic in this one.

"in the midnight hour" by @wisehearts. He takes note of the way Will paws at his dress shirt, needy and not entirely aggressive, pressing into kisses in a way that feels like he’s asking for more rather than taking it. Persistent, but pliable if you touched him right. Red wine was fucking magic when it came to Will Byers. if u want smth sweet and hot.

"Hands" by midnighteverlark aka The Parent of byler smut. Mike doesn't like his appearance. Will wants to help out with that.

"A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams" series by AabH. Slavery AU. TW for a lot of violence and abuse.

"the feminization of michael wheeler" by one and the only lawofmurphie. how a bundle of lace and a lifelong crush distract mike from the inevitable implosion of his family unit as he knows it. not only really really hot but also great mike character study. it's more about mike's desires and acceptance at first and u have to wait till byler a bit but it won't disappoint u i promise!

"Conceived in Sin" by eternalwinters, floralsun, keeksbyers. In which Will Byers has a reputation as a bit of a prude. But Mike Wheeler, a guitarist with distinctly the opposite sort of reputation, can't seem to stop thinking about him. good boy/bad boy au we all is lacking.

"i'm starving, darlin'" by id_rather_be_home. Mike and Will are sexually frustrated eighteen-year-olds, sick and tired of having absolutely no privacy in their homes. The hand-jobs and the blow-jobs are fun but Mike will go crazy if Will isn't able to fuck him again before they leave for college in five more months. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

the whole section with my favourite trope "we pretend like it's nothing but it's actually everything". I love every fic Dearly and I would recommend to start with one of this :)

"the thing about illicit affairs" by problematicbyler. Will and Mike become friends with benefits. Which is a totally reasonable arrangement that they’re both completely content with, obviously.

"Privacy" by BottomWillByers. Dustin and Lucas were on night watch so it’s just him and Mike in the room. Having fallen asleep early, both tired from the supply run they were on earlier today, Will passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow only to be woken up a couple of hours later to pressure on his ass. It took a moment to orientate himself. Used to waking up to noise and vibration but not touch. He was pressed up tight to the wall like usual, which usually gave him inches of space between himself and Mike. But not right now. Because Mike had scootched across the bed and was spooning Will from behind. His bare chest pressed alongside Wills exposed back, one arm slung over his waist as he mumbled into the back of his head. Will’s about to ask Mike what was going on when he felt it. The consistent thrusting of Mike’s hips against the swell of his bum. His words die in his mouth as he registered that Mike was asleep. Soft moans spilled from his lips and the hard pressure of his dick stuttered against Will.

"After Hours" by pterafractal. A recently out Will Byers begins his freshman year at Indiana University, with his childhood best friend (and roommate) Mike Wheeler. Between learning to navigate the campus and keep his head above water academically, Will struggles to reconcile changes in his relationship with Mike.

"The Open Door" by Mylesime. He’s too close, too handsome, too real. And Will wants to cry because the shield has almost completely collapsed. “Mike,” he says or begs, he doesn’t know. Mike stares at him and he has never looked so serious. “I really want to do this with you.” The shield breaks. Will feels his mana bar diminish by hundreds of points. He's out of it. It will take weeks to recharge, months even. “Now?” he wails and he hates how frail he’s sounding.

"Pressure Points" by honeytart. College roommates Mike and Will begin a friends with benefits arrangement with one very important rule—absolutely no kissing.

"asking too much" by kissingpractice. Will is struggling. Guys who are nice, hot, AND good in bed are apparently non-existent at their university. Frustrated, he complains to Mike - who makes him an offer he can't refuse. Unfortunately, there's always an aftermath to hooking up with your best friend. Meanwhile, Mike has some realisations.

and mature for anyone who is not ready to deep dive yet

"Touch Me Like You Know Me" by @starsarefire824. Mike doesn't go home anymore, not unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he stays far away from Hawkins, quietly shutting himself off from the world, and burying the pain of the things he never said to the boy he'd left behind. But when his mother convinces him to return home for his thirty-fifth birthday, Mike is finally forced to confront just how much he'd given up when he runs into Will by accident. Mike-centric. Estranged Byler reconnection fic. Soft and Sweet.

"Broken Wings" by Turning_tides. Mike returns to Hawkins after his freshman year of college, riddled with regret and eager to make up for the biggest mistake of his life - hurting Will. He quickly learns, however, that his estranged best friend is being kept behind a locked door. A locked door named Keith. Now, Mike finds himself in a race against time to locate the key, desperate to free the boy he loves from the prison his abuser created just for him. TW for abuse and drug addiction.

"the comforts that make us feel numb" by @newlesbianprideflag “No, but really. If I were a girl,” Mike presses on, looking up at Will with red-rimmed eyes through dark lashes. Leaning in. Somehow, fully unaware that this line of questioning has Will's heart climbing up to his throat. “Would you want to kiss me?” Will and Mike get high in the desert.

"any semblance of touch" by stella :) Mike’s still new to this whole smoking thing. Will has a few ideas.

"In Undertow" by olliecoddle. four months after one byers/wheeler couple breaks up, another gets married. and, of course, will and mike are both the best men. and, of course, there is a plot to get them back together. nothing goes to plan.

***

there're a lot more then i thought ‪😭‬ there're genuinely so many good works. i could look for just one and stumbled upon three other I wanted to include in the list. and i think it's pretty obvious what kind of dynamics i prefer. anyway.

i hope u'll find smth new to u anon but if u won't u can drop ur fic recs in my inbox. love u <3

#byler #fic rec #byler fic #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years ago

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Unlikely But Welcome

Hey, Duffers? Give me more Harrington-Byers content. Let me give you a suggestion.

Give me Jonathan who realizes that Steve has really grown as a person and eventually decides to give him a chance, they start a reluctant friendship. It's not easy or fast, but they often drop the kids off to the Hellfire Club campaigns and they sometimes have to wait together outside, maybe share a cigarette or something and chat about anything and everything.

Jonathan talks about the life he had in California and maybe admits to Steve that he never feels that carefree here, it's like having constant weight on his shoulders. It feels weird, talking to the former King Steve about the guilt and paranoia, but Steve actually listens and understands, he just chuckles and takes a drag from the cigarette, admits to Jonathan that he is going out of his mind whenever the kids don't walkie him for several days. "But that's what we're here for, right?" he smiles at Jonathan and passes the smoke back, "we're scared shitless for them and worry about every stupid thing so they can have a good time. As much as possible after all that."

They start hanging out at Steve's house, planning outings for the little shitheads, fairs, Halloween parties, anything with the promise of giving the kids back at least pieces of their lost childhoods. The rest of the young adults join in too, Argyle with his constant enthusiasm, Eddie and his manic energy, Robin with her undying sarcasm and Nancy who is ridden by the same guilt as the two of them, seeing what the Upside Down did to Mike and his friends.

It's there that Jonathan notices Steve's house is devoid of any personality, he only has a few polaroids in his room and those are carefully stored in his drawer, as if he's ashamed of them. So Jonathan picks up his camera again, after the long break in California, and gets to what he knows the best. He snaps pictures of Steve and Robin giggling, drunk on punch, as she re-creates the YOU SUCK / YOU RULE scoreboard on a random paper, he captures the exact moment Eddie tackles Steve into the pool when they're sweating like crazy while preparing a barbecue for their gaggle of kids. He smiles to himself as he captures Eddie shotgunning with Steve for the first time, documents Steve's wide smile as he's high as a kite and discussing very important topics with Argyle, such as whether tabby or ginger cats are superior. There are more pictures - Steve with Nancy as they argue about the format of the Halloween party invitations while Eddie sketches suggestions in the background, Dustin jumping at Steve to hug him, the reluctant fist bump between Steve and Mike, Steve sitting between Erica and Max, all three with sunglasses and a sign that says "the cool trio". When he knocks on Steve's door on one day and gives him the photographs, Steve's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He gets all of them framed and completely covers the walls of his room with his found family.

There is a stupid assignment that has Dustin frustrated, presentations on their families - apparently a male influence is needed, a single family member isn't enough, so Jonathan nudges him and whispers "what about Steve? Does an older brother count?" and Dustin's face lights up, drags Steve over for a picture for his presentation. They pose for several pictures, Steve holding Dustin in the air, leaning on each other like partners in crime, and everyone's laughing, maybe sheds a tear or two.

If Jonathan had any doubts about Steve, they disappear the second he takes the last picture and Steve comes over to him, hugs him with a quiet thank you. And then he taps his camera and asks: "hey, show me how to operate this thing? I'm pretty sure I need to take over for a second." Jonathan is confused for a moment, but then he sees Will looking at him with a shy expression and realizes - oh. Maybe this is why they work so well as friends, because they have this in common - filling in the roles they were never supposed to have, but would not give up for the world. He gives Steve a quick rundown and then drags Will to the living room, posing for pictures and reenacting Steve's suggestions, fighting with imaginary swords and slaying dragons (or Dustin who offered to stand in for the legendary creature). In the end, Steve's pictures are a bit blurry, but Jonathan treasures them.

And then there's the incident outside of Hellfire, they're smoking together again, laughing about the secret Santa they're organizing for the kids ("I swear to god, Jonathan, Dustin's learning to knit. He's determined to send Suzie-poo a handmade scarf and I'm trying to be supportive, I really am, but it looks like a blob of cotton"). The kids barge outside, excited as always, and Will is beaming too, he found so much in common with Eddie and they're rapidly talking, exchanging ideas for the next sessions. But of course, there's no rest for the freaks - the basketball practice ends around the same time and one of Jason's lackeys bumps into Will, snarls at him. "Of course you two get along. A freak and a fag, hard to tell which one is which." The smile instantly drops from Will's face and Eddie's straightening up, glaring at the sophomore, and Jonathan's blood runs cold when-

It's Steve who takes the first step towards the boy and even though his legend is long gone, the boy staggers back. Memories flash in Jonathan's head, remembering how he lost the first camera, how terrifying Steve's anger could be, but Steve only grasps the boy's shoulder and smiles at him, as pleasant as possible. "I remember you, kid. Aren't you the one who always tries to sneak into the adult section of the Family Video, hm? And smokes in front of the store. Now if I recall, your mother is a very strict lady, I've met her once or twice...does she know?" And when the bully shakes his head, Steve's voice lowers to a growl. "Do you want her to know?" Another shake. "That's what I thought."

And with that, the bully his gone and Jonathan wants to check on his brother, except there is something happening in the group before him - Steve is whispering something into Eddie's ear and the older boy nods, his face serious and determined. Steve shoots an apologetic look at Jonathan, mouths "just a second" at him and they take Will to the side, talk to him in hushed voices. The rest of the party is chatting again, recalling their latest adventures, but Jonathan only has eyes for his younger brother and the strange new friend he made. He watches as Steve reaches under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a familiar looking pendant with a guitar pick. Watches as Eddie moves his watch to the side and reveals a fresh looking tattoo of a spiked bat. Will's eyes water and he hugs both of them, laughing into the embrace and Jonathan finally understands what Nancy meant, that Steve's grown up and he's a different person now, in more ways than one. He sees Steve and Eddie's fingers brush against each other, the shy glances masked in their usual teasing. And Will looks so much happier now, so much more confident that he knows - he could never hate Steve Harrington again.

When they both manage to get the kids (and Eddie who rides with Steve, of course he does) into their cars, Jonathan and Steve smile at each other, and then Jonathan, the distant Jonathan who is used to only observing, never initiating, embraces Steve. "I don't know how to repay you for what you did for Will, Steve," he admits.

Steve just laughs and pats Jonathan's back. "I only did what felt right. The kid deserves the world. But," he adds and grins at Jonathan, "if you're insistent on the repayment, how about you pick up some good beer for this week's movie night? I don't think I can survive more experimentation, Eddie and Robin are competing who can get a more obscure brand and I'm too old for that crap."

Jonathan snickers and gives Steve a thumbs up. Lame, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You've got it."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers #the party #will byers #dustin henderson #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things drabble #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #strangerthings #strangerthingsdrabble

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honeysuckleharringtons · 1 year ago

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"Brew and Me" Series ~ S. Harrington x Reader

Summary: A dual timeline series about Y/N Byers, a part-time barista/student and full-time mother, and Steve Harrington, a quippy but attractive nursing student, and the game she creates in order for him to score a date with her.

Series Word Count: TBD

Series Warnings: in-depth details about teen pregnancy and its symptoms, in-depth talk about absent fathers and shitty men, details of earthquakes, mentions of hospitals/medical talk, food talk.

⚠️ PLEASE CHECK INDIVIDUAL CHAPTER WARNINGS BEFORE READING ⚠️

lil sneak peak snippet can be found here! ☺️

Part One: "Double Shot" ~ 1.8K words

Summary: (Then) In the small town of Hawkins, Indiana lies the Byers family, a family of four who might just be gaining a fifth member of the family. — (Now) Brew and Me, known for its punny motto and delicious coffee, might soon be known for bringing people together in unexpected ways.

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, small mention of abortion, vomit/morning sickness talk, mild swearing, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things (not detailed, just mentioned)

POSTED ON: December 3rd, 2023

Part Two: "Déjà Brew" ~ 2.1K words

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, Reader is still reeling from the news she's just received. Turns out, sometimes the love of a mother might just be the very help you need when times are tough. — (Now) At Brew and Me, Reader struggles with the stress of motherhood and working. Turns out, a visit from her least favorite patron might be the thing she needs to cheer her up.

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things, small mention of childhood cancer (not related to any of the main characters in this series)

POSTED ON: December 3rd, 2023

Part Three: "Spilled Milk" ~ 2.5K words

Summary: (Then) Morning sickness has finally caught up to Reader, and unfortunately it has her spilling her guts in more than one way. — (Now) When Steve brings his roommate along with him to the coffee shop, the situation soon goes south when his friend starts to spill Steve's not-so-secret crush to a certain barista.

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, vomit/morning sickness talk, mentions of food, very mild swearing

POSTED ON: December 10th, 2023

Part Four: "Macchiat- Oh No..." ~ 2.4K words

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, the time has come for Reader to break the news to her boyfriend… only, he doesn't take it as well as she'd hoped. — (Now) When Steve stops by for his daily coffee, things take a sour turn when his ex-girlfriend walks in.

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of vomit, adoption/abortion talk, mild swearing, Reader slaps and hits Jason, food consumption (Reader and Steve share a cookie), Jason is sorta out of character

POSTED ON: December 25th, 2023

Part Five: "Seasonal Specials" ~ 1.9K words

Summary: (Then) Christmas Eve has rolled around, and unfortunately for a very pregnant Reader, she is stuck at home with a migraine. Luckily for her, her younger brother doesn't make for too bad of company. — (Now) A slow shift at Brew and Me turns out to be a good night for advice and a call from everyone's favorite nursing student.

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, discussions of homophobia, discussions of abuse and allusions to physical abuse, discussions of slut-shaming, Reader is lowkey bad at advice when it comes to these topics LMAO, explicit language, food consumption (Reader drinks hot chocolate), not really a warning but Will is gay and autistic in this series

POSTED ON: December 25th, 2023

Part Six: "Full-City Roast" ~ 2.7K words

Summary: (Then) Valentine's Day has arrived, but unfortunately for Reader, it doesn't seem like much love is left in the air. — (Now) As the year comes to end, fireworks are going off everywhere, including in everyone's favorite little coffee shop.

Content Warning: the flashback chapter is pure angst tbh, partially takes place in a hospital, labor and delivery and medical talk, mentions of food

POSTED ON: January 7th, 2024

Part Seven: "Pour Over" ~ 1.6K words

Summary: (Then) Between postpartum blues and her baby's needy coos, Reader's having a hard time adjusting to her new life. But she quickly learns that sometimes you get by with a little help from your friends. — (Now) After dealing with her fussy child all night, the last thing Reader wants is a complicated day at work. Luckily for her, a certain nurse knows just how to make her day a little easier.

Content Warning: Content Warning: postpartum talk, anxiety talk, mentions of vomit (nothing in detail though), very mild swearing, mild hospital talk, mentions of food

POSTED ON: January 27th, 2024

Summary: Summary: (Then) Motherhood gets a whole lot more complicated for Reader when someone who she thought was gone for good shows up to meet her baby. — (Now) When Steve confides in Reader about his not-so-good relationship with his father, Reader reminds him that he's so much more than someone's opinion of him.

Part Eight: "Lukewarm" ~ 2.8K words

Content Warning: explicit language, infidelity/cheating (not by Reader or Steve), allusions to physical abuse, Lonnie is a creep and a douchebag, Steve's dad is an asshole, mentions of male genitalia as an insult, mentions of food, light mentions of medical stuff related to Steve's job

POSTED ON: February 26th, 2024

Part Nine: "A Steep Hill" ~ TBD

Summary: (Then) Despite the tragedy that's struck the Byers family, Reader finds herself quite happy with her new life. After all, there's nothing that brings people together like going up a steep hill with one another, right? — (Now) Steve is determined to make one last ditch effort at winning Reader over. However, his moment is ruined when a certain someone shows up at the coffee shop.

Content Warning: TBD

TO BE POSTED: January 21st, 2024

Part Ten: "I'll Chai My Best" ~ TBD

Summary: (Then) When Reader is reconnected with some old friends, she's reminded that sometimes it's okay to be vulnerable. — (Now) Reader's silly game with Steve's rears its ugly head, but the two remind each other that sometimes, it takes a couple awful tries before you get to make the beautiful latte art of life.

Content Warning: TBD

TO BE POSTED: January 28th, 2024

Finale: "A Whole Latte Love" ~ TBD

Summary: (Then) Reader's first day at her job takes an unexpected turn when a six-foot-something, handsome as all hell nurse walks in and, quite frankly, takes her coffee-flavored breath away. — (Now) Steve and Reader discover that with a little hard work and a whole lot of love, life might just treat you as sweet as the world's best latte.

Content Warning: TBD

TO BE POSTED: February 4th, 2024

series artwork: made by me!

series dividers: @firefly-graphics (edited by me to fit my theme better! feel free to tell me if this isn't allowed!)

support banners: @cafekitsune

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

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paperbackribs · 1 year ago

Text

The Gift (3b of 15) (Witch Steve AU)

previous: Chapter 3 Boys Are Witches Too (Part A) next: Chapter 4 Break the Illusion Ao3 Link - Chapters will be updated ahead of Tumblr Content: steddie fic, 2K words

Last chapter, Steve had a haunting vision of his Nana before comforting Dustin about Eddie's near death. This chapter, family weighs in on Steve's decision to save Eddie (Part A) and it's time to explain himself to his friends (Part B).

Chapter 3 Boys Are Witches Too (Part B)

…Over the phone, Steve gives his mother a brief outline of the past week, leaving out the more violent events.

Her gifts have always leaned more towards the earthy than the ethereal, like Steve’s and his Nana’s. So, when he tells her that he Knows this is done, a deep sigh of relief comes down the line. She hadn’t been able to convince him to leave Hawkins in ‘83 and now she won’t need to keep trying.

He hopes, a week later, standing in his kitchen this time, that his friends likewise accept his story.

Everyone has rested and is mostly healed and now the whole group are in Steve’s living room waiting to interrogate him.

Not that this is what they’re calling it, Steve thinks wryly, as he gathers drinks and chips to take back. He’s careful as he walks through the door so as not to overcompensate for the absence on his left.

This is just a ‘gathering’ for everyone to catch up on the latest Upside Down escapades.

Except they had already heard about Hopper’s insane tale of Russian capture and escape. Steve sort of had the image of Mrs Byers in an Emma Peel-like leather catsuit, which, frankly, was sexier than he wanted to think about.

He had shared the thought with Robin over the phone last night and was embarrassed at how quickly she’d moaned at the image.

“Steve,” she had warned. “Joyce is a stone-cold fox, and you need to respect that.”

It still leaves him with a smile on his face as he enters the living room, only for the entire group to swivel and stare at him, clearly having been just talking about him. Steve almost unconsciously steps back, alarmed at being the focus of their collective attention.

They’d caught up on the California crew too, including the chilled dude with the best hair Steve had ever seen in Hawkins. And he begrudgingly counted himself in that comparison.

El had come back with a stoic confidence that he supposes comes from having confronted and won against the most shit potluck of a family daring to call themselves brother and father. Still, she had stuck close to Hop ever since they’d reunited.

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her, but Erica had been a little too quiet. It was easy to get lost amongst the rambunctiousness of the boys, but he’s watched her and wondered if there was more to it than that.

He still regrets not approaching Max after Billy’s death last year. Maybe if Steve had been present, she wouldn’t have gotten to the point where Vecna could scuttle his way through the cracks of grief and confusion losing her stepbrother had forced open.

By force of Hop’s return and Doctor Owen’s machinations, Eddie is in the midst of being freed from all charges. But no mobs have shown up at his doorstep in Forest Hills yet. So far, so good.

Everyone had eventually shared their stories.

Everyone but Steve.

So here he is, he thinks facing them with an uncertain smile, ready to share his part in Eddie’s return from the dead.

Eddie had also been quiet; at least when Steve was in the room. Quiet, but following him with that intent gaze again.

An extension of Steve’s powers has always been the knowledge of when he was the at centre of someone’s attention. It had been a heady feeling when fuelled by popularity at school. It had also been a considerable deflator of his ego in the later years while he had sat alone in the cafeteria, nursing a bruised face and body more than once. Now, he thinks he could feel Eddie’s gaze even without any ethereal awareness.

Steve looks over; his eyes, one warm hazel and the other a vibrant white lock onto Eddie’s brown gaze from across the room. That hum of connection strikes like gentle lightning between them; Steve faintly hears the beginning of a song.

Gone are the two deep pools of warm melted chocolate that once graced Eddie’s face, one now replaced by a lighter version that mirrors Steve’s remaining eye. Where Steve has given loss, Eddie has received an unexpected gift.

“Are you going to tell us now,” Eddie’s voice carries across the room and Steve nods in resignation.

However, he refuses to stand in front of the group as if he’s giving a class presentation like some nervous sophomore. He props himself against the chair arm of Robin’s seat, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. She leans against his right side in support.

Steve pauses to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out where to start with such a complex explanation of history, family, and hidden practices.

And it’s not that he’s ashamed, but nor is it in his nature to share and this has always been held tightly to centre of his being, unspoken from all others except family and Robin.

As if reading his mind, Robin squeezes his knee before leaning forward, “Dingus here is a Witch. Like Capital W, can cast a spell on you, see the future, and save a life.” She waves her hands next to him like Vanna White revealing the letters on Wheel of Fortune. He decides not to correct her use of the term spell.

The room explodes.

“You can see the future?” Says Lucas.

“Witches are girls,” calls out Mike. Will elbows him in the ribs, “I bet boys can be too. He’s like a wizard.”

“Are there others like you,” Dustin leans forward, fingers folded under his chin like a miniature detective only missing a magnifying glass and pipe.

“Where’s your broom,” Max heckles, though her eyes are a little too wide to believe the sass in her tone.

“What about your family, Steve,” he hears but doesn’t see Mrs Byers ask gently, who is to his far left.

Nancy holds out her hands, trying to rein in the chaos. “Hey, let him speak. He said he’s going to tell us, so let him.” Steve appreciates it, even though she looks like she’s about to whip out a pad to take notes.

Steve points a finger at them one at a time. “Witches are girls and boys, Mike. Thanks, Will, but don’t call me a wizard. I’m a Witch, there’s no gender. It’s like saying I’m American. I just am. Dustin, yes, there are. Not a lot, but enough. My mom and her side of the family are Witches, it’s how I knew what to do.”

He simply glares at Max briefly, refusing to dignify her with an answer. She pokes her tongue out in response.

“And what is it that you did,” asks Hop, still so strange with his drawn face absent its moustache, the harsh lines on his face speaking of the hardship he had suffered as a prisoner in Russia.

“Because I saw you in that room, Steve. Eddie may have been the one in the bed, but you looked like you were going to keel over at any point.”

Dustin whips his head back to Steve like he hadn’t even considered he could have been anything but okay.

Steve appreciates the sentiment when, even now, his body aches from being dragged over the Upside Down and torn into by those bats. Despite the healing pouch his mother had overnighted to him, he’ll still have a lot of scarring, including the red ring around his neck from a demo-bat’s whip-like tail.

Flashing to the feeling of blood-slicked wounds closing under his hand, Steve thinks he’ll probably be far more marked than the guy who actually died.

But he is recovering. He’s okay. And he says as much to the waiting group. “I’m fine. It was… powerful, what I did. But I’m alive and Eddie’s alive,” Steve points to the other boy like that will win his argument. “So, it all worked out fine.”

Eddie’s lips tighten in response, but he remains silent.

“Yeah, but Steve, what did you have to give up? I’ve been holding back so you only had to do this once, but come on, look at your eyes.”

Steve looks back down at Robin’s upturned and suspicious face in betrayal. He knew she had been too blasé. Too accepting. Too ready to joke about Mrs Byers as an international spy of mystery.

Robin’s brows are drawn, and he can see that she is deadly serious. She’s not going to let him get away with a muttered ‘It’s okay.’

Steve takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. “It was powerful. And… It’s called The Sacrifice for a reason. But it was worth it!” He looks over at Eddie, whose face is stone for all that Steve can work out what he may be thinking.

“All I needed to do was give away one little thing and you would live. I could See that. You were going to die otherwise and… this just needed to happen. Okay?”

Eddie’s lips relax somewhat, “Okay. Don’t mistake me, I’m grateful, Steve. Thank you. I like living, you know. But I get the sense that this was a Gandalf moment. You threw yourself over into the abyss with the Balrog.”

Steve shakes his head in confusion, “Come on, man. I won’t use sports metaphors on you, and you don’t use fantasy stuff on me. Yeah, I had to give something up, but it was small in the scheme of things. I wasn’t killing myself with a Bolrag.”

He looks out at everyone, noticing varying degrees of conviction reflected in their expressions.

He sighs, “It’s just an eye. I have two, I’m fine. I just run into the walls a little now.” He says it with a light grin, but he gets no laughter back. Which, rude. He had bumped into doorframes somewhat until he began to adjust, so they should acknowledge the joke.

“Too soon?”

“Steve!” Dustin’s eyes are wet again and Steve’s heart sinks. He keeps failing this kid. “Did you nearly die?” He demands.

“Uh,” Steve panics. And, in panicking, forgets that he could just deny it. “A little?”

He flinches at the roar of the room. The kids start shouting questions and accusations again while Robin pushes him in anger so hard that he slides off the chair arm and onto the floor with a thump. Steve winces as the impact painfully spreads through his backside.

Everyone stops, mute. Robin’s shocked face looks down at him from above before she snorts in laughter. He looks up at her face as her eyes and nose crinkle and starts laughing too.

The rooms presumably look on in surprise as the two of them giggle and laugh like loons.

Robin slides out of the chair to heavily land on him, hugging him fiercely to her. “I knew it. I knew you were doing something dangerous, you absolute idiot.”

“I love you too, Robin,” he says dryly, knowing that she will hear the simple truth of it despite his tone.

“Shut it,” she hiccups wetly into his neck with a weak giggle.

The two of them go tumbling as the kids suddenly pile onto the top of them too. For a moment, under the heat and weight of the love of the party, Steve sees a flickering image of them all as if he were watching through his spirit eye, outside of his body. It lasts for only a moment before Mike’s pointy knee connects hard with his inner thigh.

“Mike! Get off!” Steve pushes and the children scatter like petals around him. He rubs at his leg, trying to lessen the sharp feeling of assault. Stops himself from rubbing at his sides too, which feels stretched and uncomfortable over the healing skin and further aggravated by the weight of the squirming kids.

Mike grins unrepentantly, “Sorry.”

Hop starts to update them on the latest rounds of government NDAs to expect and his negotiations with the Sheriff’s office. And Steve knows that they have all accepted it. Steve is a Witch. He’s down one eye. But he’s one of them and that’s that.

Eddie, he notices, picks up a bit more energy. He joins in with a few sharp criticisms of his own for the treatment he’s experienced from Hawkins PD. But Steve doesn’t get to speak to him again until everyone has left. While people trailed out saying their goodbyes, Eddie kept himself busy with taking out the empty Coke cans and chip bags to the trash.

Robin lingers by the front doorway, head cocked to the kitchen in question. He answers with a shrug and nod, and she’s accepted he is fine for whatever is coming, on the condition, she notes by waggling her eyebrows, that he fills her in later.

He shoos her away in agreement and turns back into the house to find Eddie.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Taglist

My taglist is always open so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed let me know too. :) If I've missed you, definitely let me know because it's an accident!

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#witchsteve #steddie #platonic stobin #stranger things #steve harrington #for chapter notes on references you can check them out on ao3 #paperbackribs writing

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 8 months ago

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CHAPTER 3: HOLLY, JOLLY

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: We do not take what Jonathan did lightly and neither does Diana.

Warnings: Bullying.

Word Count: 2122

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

HAWKINS HIGH

The day goes by in a blur. I don’t remember what I learned in my classes today because I can only think about Barb. If something happened to her—My body is pushed to the side and I squeak staggering on my feet.

“Sorry!” Jonathan says, holding my arms to steady me.

Jonathan. I forgot Mom wanted me to talk to him today.

“It’s okay, I’m glad I found you.” I respond with a small smile.

“Oh…” he says, fixing his buttoned shirt.

I give Jonathan a quick once over, feeling a pit in my stomach. Jonathan looked like he was slowly spiralling. His hair was sticking out in all directions from running his hands through it too much. I know the Byers don’t have a lot of money, but they were always put together…Jonathan’s clothes looked like he threw them all haphazardly. The bags under his eyes are what stuck out to me the most. I’ve known Jonathan since we were little kids. Despite our little brothers being best friends, Jonathan and I don’t hang out one on one like Nancy and I do. The only time I have was freshman year, last year. I was his model for his photography project. We took a lot of photos at the park some regular, others with me in my pointe shoes, doing various poses and positions. The photos came out beautifully and Jonathan gave me a couple to keep for myself. Mom framed it and put it on the fireplace.

“I just wanted to know how you’re doing. I’m sorry for not checking in sooner.” I shake my head. “I didn’t know how.”

“It’s been…rough.” He says, avoiding eye contact. “My mom isn’t doing so well.”

“I can only imagine what you’re going through. I hope you know we’re here for you.”

“Thanks, Diana. It means a lot.”

I bow my head, pursing my lips. “My mom made cookies for you guys yesterday and she stopped by, but your mom wasn’t home. She left them on the porch.”

“Oh yeah. My mom got them,” he said with a small laugh. It sounded forced. “I only had a few. They were really good. Tell your mom I said thanks…from both of us.” I can tell it pained him to say both because they are a family of three.

“I will.”

Jonathan shifts from side to side. “Um, do you need a ride? I can drive you home.”

What is it with boys offering me rides?

“You live on the opposite side of town.” I point out.

“I know, but I don’t mind. Really.”

I sense Jonathan doesn’t want to be alone and nod my head. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

As we approach Jonathan’s car, I am surprised to find Steve, Carol, Tommy H and another girl, who I don’t recognize standing around. I am immediately filled with dread, having spent the entire day avoiding them. Steve watches Jonathan with a scowl on his face and pushes himself off the car, walking toward us.

“Hey, man.” He greets Jonathan. It’s as if I don’t exist.

Jonathan swallows, eyes scanning the group. “What’s going on?”

“Nicole here was telling us about your work.”

“We’ve heard great things.” Carol says sarcastically. Tommy H and Nicole smile, but it looks more like a sneer.

“Yeah, sounds cool.” Tommy H adds.

I squint not understanding what’s going on.

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as…connoisseurs of art.”

Jonathan pushes pass Steve to his car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, no?” Steve asks.

Tommy H quickly snatches Jonathan’s bag from his shoulder, throwing it to Steve who catches it with ease. Jonathan goes to Tommy H who bumps him in the chest, antagonizing him.

“Hey!” I shout, marching to separate them.

Tommy H stares down at me, like I’m an insect. “You hanging out with freaks and perverts now, Sinclair?” He taunts.

I ignore him, pushing Jonathan away. Tommy H smirks at me as if he’s in on some inside joke I’m not sure about.

“Please, give me my bag.” Jonathan stammers. Steve begins to unzip his backpack. “No just…”

“Man, he is totally trembling.” Steve muses, “He must really have something to hide.” Steve pulls out a stack of paper. “Here we go.”

“Let me see.” Tommy H says and Steve hands him half the stack. He’s glaring at Jonathan and I’m wondering what has him so mad.

Tommy H flips through the paper, scowling as he goes. He looks up at Jonathan in disgust. “Dude. Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all.”

Jonathan shifts from side to side. “I was looking for my brother.”

It’s then I realize these are photos. Carol takes some out of Tommy H’s hand to look for herself. She pops her gum obnoxiously wearing the same disgusted look on her face. I swallow, glancing at Jonathan. He looks so uncomfortable; I fear the worse about the photos.

“No. This is called stalking.” Steve snaps.

“Give those back.” I demand. I don’t know what those photos are, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for everyone to be seeing, Especially if they are supposedly that bad.

“You defending this creep?” Steve spat.

“I’m not defending him. Just—”

“There’s some of you too, you know.” Steve says, cutting me off. He hands me a stack of photos.

I take the photos flipping through them. He wasn’t lying. There were photos of me by the pool while I was dancing by myself. Some with me and Barb sitting on the lawn chairs. Some of me in the Scorpion pose in front of the group. I see the grimace on Tommy H and Carol’s faces and am instantly transported to that moment last night. The feeling of embarrassment creeps up my spine. My stomach is in knots. From the corner of my eye, Jonathan is looking at me. I can’t believe he’d do this. Part of me feels betrayed and foolish. I was consoling him about his brother and he was…I rip the photos in my hands, shoving them in my bag.

“This is so inappropriate for everyone to be looking at, don’t you think?”

“What’s going on?”

I turn around and see Nancy approaching us. I haven’t seen her since lunch. This day just keeps getting more and more worse.

“Here’s the starring lady.” Tommy H announces with a smirk.

Nancy arches her brow. “What?”

“This creep was spying on us last night.” Carol responds, gesturing to Jonathan. She pulls a photo and hands it to Nancy. I glare at the red-head, shaking my head. “He was probably going to save this one for later.”

Nancy takes the picture and I can tell by the look on her face and the flush in her cheeks, the photo is less than pleasant. She looks at Jonathan who avoids her stare. Steve rolls the photos in his hands. Usually, Steve is happy and aloof at school, but right now he looks menacing as he approaches Jonathan.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but…” he fixes Jonathan’s shirt, wiping off imaginary dust off his shoulders. “Man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into them. They can’t help themselves.” Steve rips the photos in his hands, throwing them on the ground. I watch Steve walk back to Jonathan’s bag by the car. “So, we’ll just have to take away his toy.” He opens the bag pulling out Jonathan’s camera.

“Steve.” Nancy mutters.

Jonathan charges for Steve but is quickly pushed back by Tommy H.

“No, please, not the camera!”

“Tommy. Tommy.” Steve cautions. “It’s okay.” He coos, walking to Jonathan. He hands him the camera. “Here you go man.”

Jonathan goes to take it from his hand, but Steve is faster and drops the camera on the ground. My jaw drops as the lens cover pops out and bits of the camera shatters. Tommy H laughs and Steve stares at the ground. I notice he avoids looking at Jonathan. There’s a flicker of sorrow behind his eyes but it’s gone as soon as it appears.

“Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.”

Nicole follows behind Steve and Carol rips up the remaining photos dropping them on the ground in front of Jonathan. Tommy H saunters toward him.

“Boo.” He whispers.

Tommy H then turns to me and grins triumphantly and makes sure to brush me when he walks away. When everyone is gone, Jonathan immediately drops to the ground reaching for his camera. I drop to my knees picking up the remnants of the photos. I see bits and pieces of Nancy in what I assume is Steve’s room and clench my jaw, snatching them from the ground before they flew away. Nancy drops to the ground beside me picking up a few scraps. I assume she’s helping until Steve calls her name. She looks at me and Jonathan before apologizing. I watch her hurry to Steve and walk with him towards the school.

I continue to pick up the photos trying my best to avoid looking at them too much just wanting to get rid of them. My eyes betray me at the sight of another photo of me dancing by the pool by myself. If the photo was taken in better circumstances, I would’ve found it pretty. I crumple the picture in my hands shaking my head.

“Jonathan…” I groan.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

I stare at him in disbelief. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been taking unsolicited photos of us?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “No—” I scoff standing to my feet, walking to the nearest trash can. “Diana I can explain.” He calls from behind.

I look back at him, feeling nothing but disappointment and anger. Anger about Nancy, Barb, Steve Tommy H, Carol, Nicole now Jonathan and these photos. I feel like everything is coming at me in all directions and I don’t know what to do.

“I was giving you my condolences for Will and you had these in your bag the entire time!” I shout, waving the scraps in my hands.

“I’m sorry, okay!” Jonathan cries, rushing toward me.

I scoff throwing the photos in the trash. “You developed them, Jonathan.” That was the worst part about it. It’s one thing to take the photos, but to develop them. For what? For what reason?

“I know, I know!” Jonathan exclaims. “I didn’t…I just…” he runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. I know he feels bad, but I don’t care.

“How long were you standing there taking photos of us? Some of these photos are of…” I look around before continuing. “Nancy taking off her shirt.” I hiss quietly at him.

“I was looking for my brother and then I heard screaming and ran thinking it was my brother, but then I saw Tommy and Carol—”

“Oh, my god.”

“I don’t know why I did it! There’s no excuse for it. I messed up.”

“I am so…” I clench my hands into tight fists and squeeze my eyes shut. My chest feels tight. “Ugh.” I stomp the ground. “I can’t even think straight. You boys are so…so…stupid!”

“I’m so sorry, Diana.”

I open my eyes and take a deep breath finding Jonathan looking at me. I notice the bags under his eyes and how disheveled and stressed out he looks. He’s been through a lot the past few days, but it’s no excuse to do something like this. He looks down at his camera, toying with the cracked lens. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s never without his camera and now with Will gone, I know he has been more attached to it now, more than ever.

“Let me see,” I sigh, extending my hand. Jonathan looks at me for a moment, but hands me his camera.

I inspect the damage. It’s bad. He definitely won’t be able to use the camera anymore. Part of me thinks he deserved the confrontation, but the other part doesn’t think Stee had a right to break his camera. That was going overboard. Nonetheless…

“Steve didn’t need to break your camera to prove his point.” I begin, handing the camera back to him. “But honestly, it was justified. You invaded his privacy too, Jonathan.”

When he doesn’t reply. I shake my head, fixing my bag on my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I see someone coming towards us and I brace myself for round two, but when I turn, it’s Nancy. She’s speed walking and there’s a worried look on her face. Nancy touches my arm and pulls me.

“I need you to come with me,” she whispers.

NEXT -> PART IV

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader

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satelliteddie · 2 years ago

Text

face on a lover with a fire in his heart - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve is used to spending the holidays alone, especially after he spent it heartbroken last year. so when you finally tell steve you love him, he doesn’t know how to respond.

content warnings: angst (kinda) to fluff, steve not knowing how to communicate, mentions of stancy, talks of christmas/santa, dysfunctional families, kissing

word count: 4.3k

author’s notes: ok I suck and didn’t have a chance to post this on christmas like planned, but!!! happy holidays and merry christmas to all that celebrate!!! the fact Last Christmas came out in 1984?????? this song is so Steve-coded….argue with the wall

Ending every year with month after month of family-centered holidays seems to be the cruelest joke in the world when you have no one to spend them with. It’s just another reminder of how often your days are spent alone; the empty walls and bedrooms laugh at the idea of a family spending time in them. Steve knows the feeling all too well. He’s become accustomed to spending this time of year alone; he used to make excuses for why he would end up by himself…but now? Now he’s just used to it. There was a holiday two years ago that he didn’t spend alone. Running his fingers over a lightly worn Christmas sweater, Steve thinks back to that night with the Wheelers and Byers. One of the last times he truly felt like he was a part of a family during this time of year. It’s been two full years since he wore that itchy, Reindeer-covered jumper, but some part of him still longed for the warmth that night had. Last year when Steve had spotted the sweater amongst his older clothes it tore him apart. Steve felt like he was being pulled apart stitch by stitch; which is why he wanted to pull the cloth apart seam by seam, yet he couldn’t bring himself to. The ugly sweater reminded him of the good nights he had with the Wheelers – the nights where he felt like he had a family. The nights where he felt loved. He loved Nancy… or at least he thought he knew what love was when he was with her. Love didn’t come easily to Steve after Nancy. He was cautious and careful. Granted he would go on dates that wouldn’t lead anywhere, but it was all to get himself back out there. Or just distract himself – he couldn’t be sure. Then almost a year after Nancy had torn him a part at a Halloween party, you put him back together. Steve grins as his mind shuts off his negative thoughts about his past and focuses on you. He hoped you two could spend your first Christmas as a couple together, but he understood when you told him about your prior plans. Steve would never want to take you from your family or make you feel guilty about his lack of one. Instead he stayed home as the snow fell outside, reminiscing over past Christmases. He unfolds the sweater to get a better look at it, he tilts his head looking at the pattern.

“What the hell is that?” Your voice startles Steve from his stare on the sweater. He’s almost convinced you're a fathom of his imagination until you step further into the room, your eyes scanning over the material, “That is hideous.”

“Hey! I liked this sweater,” Steve pretends to be insulted as he laughs. You squat down, sitting next to him and all of the half-empty Christmas decor boxes. Your eyes light up as you look over all of the garlands, ribbons, nutcrackers, candles, and other decorations. Steve folds the sweater, tucking it away in its box next to the other containers scattered in the room.

“Steve,” you brush the stray curls on the side of his face behind his ear. “I’m sure you wore the hell out of it, but it’s still hideous.” Steve shakes his head as he tries to hide his smile, turning to you with a blush covering his cheeks. His large hands rise from his thighs and brace the sides of your cheeks. Steve brings your face to his, resting your foreheads together with a content smile. Steve leans forward, pressing a featherlight kiss to your mouth. “Hi handsome,” you smirk as you continue to look at him. Steve shut his eyes, moving his thumbs over the high points of your cheeks while a grin still pulls at his mouth.

“Hi baby,” he finally blinks open his honey colored eyes. Steve hesitates before he pulls back, leaving his hands lingering on your face. He watches you as you smile up at him, inching forward to get as close as humanly possible. Steve moves his fingers down the sides of your face and over your arms before finding your hands; he doesn’t want to ask, worried this moment will end too soon, but he has to know if you’re leaving him alone again.

“I thought you were going to your parents for Christmas Eve?” His eyes dip down to where your hands are connected. Steve looks back up to you with wide eyes, “not that I don’t want you here, I- I do. God, I do. I just–”

“Steve–”

“Sorry that sounded shitty. Of course, I want you here. I just don't want your parents–”

“Steve,” you pull your hands from his and rest a gentle hand over his mouth. You can practically feel his smile against your palm. You drop your hand from his mouth and cup his jaw into it, “I was supposed to go to their house, but I wanted to be here with you. If that’s okay?”

Steve is sure his heart could burst out of his chest with the way you’re looking at him and how soft your voice sounds. “Yeah- yeah. Of course,” he stammers out.

“So what exactly are you doing with all this stuff?” You turn away from Steve and he’s already disappointed to have lost your undivided attention. You stand from the floor, rummaging through the storage bins, pulling out a decorative wreath. You hold the decor in your hands and turn to your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, “it’s Christmas. Shouldn’t this all be up?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond where the answer wasn’t completely depressing. He has some decorations up around his large house, just enough to make it look somewhat festive. The tree was up and decorated just enough to look like a Christmas tree and not something Steve lugged in from outside. Yet there were endless boxes of ornaments, wreaths, ribbons, toys, and collectibles from the years where his parents were actually home to celebrate. Now that Steve was older and no longer believed in the magic of Christmas, his parents didn’t bat an eye when a conference was during Christmas or a business trip fell on Thanksgiving. With his childhood home now becoming a Bachelor pad, Steve didn’t feel the need to decorate for these holidays that passed by as if they were just any other day.

“Just didn’t have time to put it all up,” he shrugs as if there's no more meaning to it. You look back at Steve with cautious eyes, watching every feature. You know he’s lying, but there’s no point in calling him out on it now.

“Do you want it up?” You ask, gently running your fingers through the fake pine branches on the wreath. You try to make your tone as light as possible, not wanting to push him. “We could do it now, it might be fun.”

“You- you would do that?”

“Of course I would,” you place the decoration down, putting out a hand to Steve. He looks up at it from the floor before a lopsided grin ghosts his lips. Slipping his hand into yours, Steve stands up from the floor stumbling into you; your chests press together in a clumsy laugh. “But you have to help.”

“Babe-”

“No, nope. You help or I leave,” you tease, rocking back and forth on your heels. You look up at Steve with the biggest puppy eyes you can manage, pouting your lip for good measure. Steve melts under your soft glare, there’s no way to say no to you…it’s almost criminal.

“Fine,” he acts defeated, but he was always going to help you. Steve’s convinced if you asked him to follow you into hell he would without hesitation. He’s downright infatuated with you. Head over heels. Lovesick. Weak in the knees obsessed. He’s completely in love. He has loved you for longer than he would care to admit — but his mind couldn’t allow him to believe in it again. To believe in love means being vulnerable and open to the harm that comes from the person you give your heart to. He had already lived through that tragic tale of an unreciprocated love. It nearly killed him — even more so than the Upside Down. Telling you he was in love with you meant he would have to be on display again. He just couldn’t face it. Not yet.

“Where should we start?” Steve asks, resting his hands on the sides of your face.

“That’s easy,” you step away from him. Grabbing a box with Steve’s mothers handwriting scrawled across the cardboard. “Ornaments.”

❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

The turntable spins, a Nat King Cole record playing on a low volume in the living room. Steve sits against the soft cushions of the couch watching as you fix the final ornaments on the tree. He loves watching how focused you get with even the smallest of tasks. Your tongue caught between your lips, the end curled up towards your nose. Steve remembers the first time he saw you do it while restocking records at the store across from Scoops. It reminded him of Eddie and immediately warmed his heart; Eddie had played wingman and therapist while Steve agonized over asking you out. Being that he was your best friend, Eddie put in the good word with you and nearly tripped over himself running back across the mall to tell Steve you were totally into him. There’s no guarantee that without Eddie’s meddling you two would have ever ended up together. You were too intimidated by King Steve, while Steve was worried you wouldn’t be impressed by the high school graduate who worked at an ice cream shop. And you weren’t impressed by his job….instead you were impressed by Steve. He wasn’t the same king that he used to be. He was warm and inviting yet, protective and timid…a complete sweetheart. It didn’t take long for you to fall for Steve, adoring every part of him. You were in love with him. There was no stopping it. You tried to keep it inside until Steve was ready to say those three words back to you, but you know it could be a long time coming. His dating history wasn’t the best and the most stable relationship in his life was also the most unstable. You could see it in his eyes and how he held you close that he loved you. You just wished you could hear it.

Eventually after months of dating, Steve had memorized any and all things y/n-related. He knew your favorite songs, least favorite movies, ideal date spots, the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a puppy, the smile you would give friends and the smile you would give him. Steve always held you close, gave you his jacket without hesitation, and warmed you inside and out even in the freezing December weather. A couple weeks ago, you laid against Steve’s chest against the sofa as the fireplace warmed both of you. The glow of the fireplace had you feeling like the inside of a toasted marshmallow; you wanted to melt into Steve and stay here forever. He made you feel safe, loved, and happy. So in the comfort of his arms, those three words slipped from your lips and into the air. The temperature seemed to drop in the millisecond of silence. Steve immediately tilted your chin towards his face near your shoulder, pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss was firm as his large hands cupped your cheeks, bringing you closer to him. You twisted in Steve’s arms, straddling his spread thighs and deepening the kiss. Steve’s soft mouth slid over yours, opening just enough to drag his tongue along your bottom lip. Eventually, Steve pulled away from you, his hands still on your face with a knowing look in his hazel eyes. He didn’t have to say it, you just knew. Steve did love you, you just had to wait until he was ready to say it.

Steve blinks harshly, realizing he’s been staring at you as you stare at the tree. Bringing up his hands to his face, Steve rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm before resting his chin in it. “You’re so pretty,” he gushes.

“Steve,” you say, shifting weight between your legs as you continue to focus on the tree. “Do you have a star?”

A smile pulls at his lips as he watches you, “did you hear me?”

“Yes, thank you,” you cast a quick look over your shoulder. “But do you have a star?”

“It’s upstairs,” Steve grins, beginning to stand. “I’ll go—”

“No, sit.” You insist, pushing him back down to his seat, “I’ll go find it. Just look at the tree and see where we can put these.” You drop the last two ornaments onto Steve’s lap, scurrying off to find the tree topper. He looks up at the 10 foot tree in the corner of the expansive living room. You’ve twirled garland around the staircase railings, added ribbons to doorways, twinkle lights (he didn’t even know he owned) to the windows, and small figurines to every ledge. Steve tried to help you decorate, but instead found himself watching you. The joy you felt during the holidays radiates off of you, warming the walls of his house. He looks down at the two ornaments you gave him; one that you gifted him during your first Christmas as friends. A small, fragile glass ornament shaped to look like a baseball bat. You told him you always thought the bat-spin was sexy after he opened it. Steve nearly fell over hearing the words from you. The second one was a small ornament frame holding a photo of The Party and all their older, teenage counterparts. Steve stands from the couch finally and places the two decorations side by side on tree branches. He steps back to look at his handiwork, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Even though he doesn’t hear you, he feels you behind him even before your one arm wraps around his waist. You press a kiss to his shoulder blades, resting your cheek against his back.

“Did you find it?” Steve asks, his eyes focused on your palm against his tummy. Your fingers brushing over the soft material of his shirt.

“Yep,” your other hand comes into view, the wire star held in your fingers. Steve chuckles looking down at the decoration in your small hands, he takes it from your grasp and spins around to face you. “Want to put it up?” You ask with a bashful smile.

“Nope,” Steve hands it back to you as you pout. In an instant, Steve bends down to sweep you off your feet and into his arms. “You’re going to.” He places you down on the cushions of the couch, squatting down slightly and patting his shoulders. “C’mon,” Steve slaps his shoulders again as you giggle. “Get on.”

“Steve, we’re going to knock the tree over if I fall.”

“So don’t fall,” Steve says with a sarcastic shrug. “I won’t drop you.” His words are so sure and confident that you don’t ask again, you just slip your legs over his collarbones, until you sit on his shoulders. Steve’s large hands brace your thighs against his body, your feet hooking behind them just to be safe. He stands to his full height, bringing you closer to the tree. You place the star on the top branch, settling it down and twisting it until it sits straight. You give a satisfied ruffle to Steve’s hair as he shuffles backwards to see the finished product.

“Good?” He asks, looking up at you through his eyebrows.

“Perfect,” you grin. Steve slowly squats down near the couch again, laying you against the plush cushions. He quickly spins in between your thighs to face you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your legs. He crawls up your chest to hover over you on the couch; Steve leans down and presses his mouth against yours. His hands tangle in your hair as yours trail over his chest, your lips dancing over each other. Steve’s tongue licks over your bottom lip gently before working into your mouth. You melt into him like you always do, pulling him closer by his shirt trying to keep him as close as you can. Steve released a satisfied hum, pulling away from your mouth and covering your neck with sloppy kisses. You move your hands from his chest into Steve’s curls keeping his face against your skin. He presses one more open mouth kiss to your jawline before settling his face into your neck.

“Thank you for letting me decorate,” you whisper, fingers still carding through his hair. Steve’s heart flips in his chest, she’s thanking me? His brain feels like it’s turned into a puddle under your touch and soft words.

“Baby,” he smiles against your skin. He leans up to look at you, holding your chin in between his fingers. “Thank you for decorating. You’re making me want to actually enjoy the holidays.” You nod slowly and give Steve one of those smiles that’s only reserved for him. Steve moves his hand from your chin and cups your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyelids drooping slightly. “Ready for bed?” Steve asks as your eyes grow more tired.

“It’s the only way Santa will come,” you grin as Steve laughs. You wrap your arms around Steve’s neck, preparing for him to lift you off the couch. It’s a movement that you both have practiced several times when you wrap yourself around Steve like a koala. He stands from the couch without missing a beat, sliding his hands under your butt to carry you up the stairs. You both plop into Steve’s bed, nestling into the soft comforter. Steve tosses his shirt aside for you to take, sleeping only in his plaid pajama pants. While you take the opposite approach, slipping into Steve’s discarded shirt and pushing your pants off and onto the floor. Steve lays against his pillows, arms spread out open for you to crawl into. You waste no time tucking yourself into his side, using Steve’s warm skin as your personal heater. Steve presses a kiss to the top of your hair as you toss a leg over his waist. Finally settled into each other, sleep starts to creep in while Steve admires you. He moves his fingers over your arms, drawing mindless shapes onto your skin.

“Thank you.” He wants to tell you he loves you, but all that comes out is: “thank you,” he repeats. You shuffle beside him, resting your chin on his ribs to look up at him in the darkness of the room. His eyes hold an anxious look in them that you know all too well. Steve’s heart slams against his chest and you can feel it against your fingers. He can’t even think straight as he looks at you, but his mouth continues to fail him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says again with a heavy blink.

You give a half smile, pressing a kiss to his chest, “I know.”

❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

“Steve.” You turn over, brushing your fingers over his biceps. The early morning light breaking through the windows.

“Steve,” you repeat, which earns a sleepy groan. He lifts the comforter higher to tuck it under his chin, nuzzling his body closer to yours. Steve’s back presses to your chest, mumbling scattered words but no real sentences.

“No,” he utters. Steve turns in your arms, cuddling into you. Steve’s strong arms work around your waist, pulling you even closer. His chestnut hair tickles your face as he moves and places himself under your face, curled into your chest. “Tired. Warm.”

You hum as you run a hand through his hair, keeping his face as close to your body as you can manage, “but Stevie.” You try once more, adding his nickname, that only he allows you to call him, and a sticky sweetness to your tone.

“What?” Steve pressed his forehead to your rib cage, eyes still closed. He clearly has no intention of moving hand time soon with how warm you feel against his skin and the soft touches of your fingers through his hair. You lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his head as you brush away stray curls.

“Santa came,” you whisper. Steve pulls back from your chest, blinking quickly to clear his eyes.

“What did you just say?” He asks, but his words are slurred from his exhaustion.

You slide down your pillow to be at eyeline with Steve, “Santa came. It’s officially Christmas.”

“Santa?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, finally making eye contact with you. “Baby, Santa’s not—”

“Shh,” you raise a finger to his lips, which he immediately presses a kiss to. “He came. There’s presents, I saw ‘em.”

“What?” Steve asks again, shifting up onto his elbows to look down at you. You grin, your hair fanned out over the soft pillows. “What are you talking about?”

“Just come with me,” you roll out from under the covers and wait at the edge of the bed for Steve. With a groan he tosses on a shirt from his dresser, stands and follows you out the bedroom door. Trailing close behind you, Steve’s steps falter on the stairs as he sees the Christmas tree. The lights twinkle amongst the evergreen branches, ornaments catching the light and spreading it further. Beneath the tree, the old tree skirt is no longer visible under the piles of gifts. It’s like Steve has been dropped into one of those cheesy Christmas movies; everything sparkles and shines, his house feels a lot more like a home at this moment. His eyes flick back to find you at the end of the stairs waiting for him. The glow of the Christmas lights ghosts over your face, causing you to look like a fucking goddess. He utters your name, just barely above a whisper as he stands on the stairs.

“You- how did you do this?” Steve’s at a loss for words as his focus continues to jump between you and the tree.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play coy, “I didn’t do a thing.”

“Baby—”

“It’s Christmas magic, Steve,” you pull him close by the edge of his tee, causing him to come down the final two stairs. “Just enjoy it.”

Steve leans into your touch, tilting his face down to rest his forehead on yours. You grin looking up at Steve with crossed eyes; he swears you’ve never looked cuter than you do right now. Taking in every feature and emotion in his face, waiting to see if your genius plan paid off to earn you a full smile from him. It works. Steve’s eyes soften completely as his pretty mouth curves up into a toothy grin. He pulls away just for a second, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his thumbs brush over your creeks. Steve watches as your smile doubles its size and the blush covering your face deepens. It only encourages him to cover more of your skin with kisses. He presses his lips to your temples, cheekbones, under your eyes, tip of your nose, jawline, Cupid’s bow, and anywhere else his mouth can reach. Your giggles are contagious as you squirm under Steve’s touch; trying both to get away from his assault of kisses, but also get closer to him. Steve stops once he knows he’s covered every centimeter of skin, rubbing his nose against yours. His mouth hovering over yours, “I love you.”

“You do?”

Steve’s heart nearly falls out of his chest hearing the nerves woven into your question. Of course he loved you.

“Yes, baby,” his nose brushes yours again. “I love you so fucking much. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before I just-”

You lean up to press a soft kiss to his Cupid’s bow, stopping Steve mid sentence. “I know. It’s okay,” another kiss to his top lip. “I knew you did. You just had to say it in your own time.”

Steve tips his head back, shaking his head in disbelief. How are you real? Is this real? He looks back down at you with misty eyes, “fuck. You’re too good to me.”

“No,” you wrap your arms around his waist, snuggling into his chest. You peer up at him, resting your chin on his chest, “you’re too good to me. I just try to give you what you deserve.”

“But I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve this,” you immediately step back from him. Your voice is stern, but filled with adoration as you continue. “Steve, you deserve the fucking world, baby. The world. The universe. The universes beyond ours. If I could go up and pluck a star out of the sky and give it to you I would. These presents, the decorations, my love for you…it doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface of what you deserve. But I’ll die trying to give you everything you do.”

Steve wraps his hands around your wrists, tugging you back to him. His eyes have gone misty again, dropping your hands and wrapping his arms around your small frame. He rubs his hands up and down over your back, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his chest. He pulls you away from his body to flash you a perfect smile. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

i wanna spend christmas with stevie I’m pissed

happy holidays to all that celebrate them! even if you don’t have any one to be with this season, my inbox is always open, we can spend it together <<33

masterlist ❅ requests ❅

-meg

#steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n

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love-kurdt · 8 months ago

Text

Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short, if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, pls dni.

When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.

When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissolve, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.

I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.

But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.

My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

I flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.

I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.

I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.

“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t.

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?

I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.

“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.

“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.

I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.

I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” I said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again.

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.

We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!”

Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked up at me. “Really close.”

“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.

“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?”

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!”

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums.

I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.

I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed.

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?”

I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.”

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.”

“Sorry, Miriam.”

“You’re forgiven.”

I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.

“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him.

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.

I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.

“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–”

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” we all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.

I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.

Matt.

next part

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lesbianrobin · 2 years ago

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lesbianrobin fic scraps #3: the working title for this one was a drake and josh reference

What does getting the guest room ready even mean?

The guest room is right across from Steve's. It has that same matching wallpaper and curtains thing going that his bedroom does, just in pale yellow flowers rather than black and white plaid. He's pretty sure it was supposed to be a nursery, but that never happened. Mom blamed Dad and Dad blamed Steve. According to Dad, Steve just sucked so bad they never wanted to try again. According to Mom, Dad’s an evil asshole who wouldn’t let her have all the babies she wanted. Sometimes when things had been good for a little while, they’d change the story, that they tried for awhile and it just didn’t pan out, or that they were perfectly content with their one lovely boy and never even considered having more, but of course they always lied in front of each other and Steve knew better than to trust the bullshit they fed him whenever they insisted on playing the happy family. Both of them were only ever honest with Steve when nobody else was around.

The whole thing’s ironic. That’s what irony is, right? Dad never wanted the girl that Mom swore would save their marriage, and now the second she’s gone he’s changed his mind.

Dad said Maxine is twelve. That’s the same age as Mike and all his little friends, which means that she’s, like, a whole person with opinions and she’ll probably be just as miserable about the situation as Steve is. He is miserable, right? He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t need strangers in his house acting like they’re family. Dad’s new wife is either just as shitty as he is or she’s too good for him, and Steve’s not exactly thrilled about either prospect. How evil can he be? Stealing some poor woman and her daughter away from sun and sand only to make them rot in Hawkins. Maybe the lady’s an asshole or an idiot, but her kid’s just a kid. Like Will Byers. Living her life and then one day she just gets dragged to hell.

Maybe it’s just his own shitty memories making everything look shitty, but this room is depressing. Steve wouldn’t want to live here. His room can be kind of depressing, too, but at least it’s his. He's used to it, he doesn't need to love it. Maxine should love her bedroom, but she won't unless he makes some serious changes. The bedding in here’s all wrong for a kid. Plain white sheets and a big ruffled comforter with a mountain of fancy throw pillows. Steve would have felt like he was staying at his grandma’s house if he had to sleep in that when he was twelve. There’s a heavy vase with fake, dusty flowers on the desk, gold sconces on the wall on either side of the headboard, and a random porcelain doll propped up in the antique chair in the corner.

Steve takes down the sconces. There are big nails sticking out, so he’ll have to find something else to go there, because he has no clue how to patch holes in walls. Maybe, like, shelves? A clock on one and some kind of art hanging on the other? Maybe he could just get an empty frame and then she could get a poster of whatever stuff she likes to put in it. While he's at it, he should probably get some things for the bathroom, too. He's never shared a bathroom with anyone before. Should he get a new toothbrush holder? The one he has now is kind of old and gross. He grabs the creepy doll, leaves the bedroom, and stuffs the doll and the sconces into the hall closet. It's full of stuff that Mom keeps swearing she'll pick up someday soon.

It's weird to hate his mom. He doesn't have much practice at it, but he's getting there. She took almost everything in the living room and all the art on their walls. Steve always assumed that if she decided to finally leave, she'd take him too.

At least he already has a lot of practice at being wrong.

For once when he leaves the house with his dad's credit card and little else, he actually has a reason. Usually it's just to get out. It's supposed to be a forty-five minute drive to the mall, but rain starts pouring down halfway there and it ends up taking a little over an hour because nobody knows how to fucking drive. He's lucky enough to snag a spot right outside the Sears entrance and run inside without getting completely drenched, though his shoes won't stop squeaking on the tile.

He doesn't have the time or really know how to replace wallpaper, so he's gotta work with the yellow flowers. Steve's always liked yellow. It can be hard to pull off in clothing form, but it reminds him of sunshine and dandelions and bananas and a million other awesome things that Maxine hopefully likes too. But what if she doesn't? He can't lean into the yellow too hard.

The bedding has to come first. It's the center of the room, and he can pick other stuff based on whatever will match it. Steve walks down the aisle and frowns. The sets all just look like old lady shit. Why does everything have to have flowers or ruffles on it or cost, like, a thousand dollars? The colors are all wrong, too. So many pinks, and he knows from Nancy that people just assume girls will like pink and then drown them in it, so he can't do that to Maxine. He looks around and sees the next aisle: KIDS' BEDDING. Thank fuckin' god.

Some of this stuff is terrible, too, covered in teddy bears and Rainbow Brite, but some of the ones marked TEEN BED SET are alright. One of them has skateboards all over it. Steve considers it for a second, because skateboarding is pretty cool, but it doesn't match the wallpaper at all and it's kind of too specific for a kid he's never met. Maybe she broke her arm skateboarding once and now she has skateboard trauma.

#em talks #lesbianrobin.ficscraps

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andiwriteordie · 2 years ago

Note

Hey andi!! Hope your day is good so far 💕

For your Byler Valentine’s Day prompt, one of them could surprise the other with a picnic at a rebuilt Castle Byers or at their swing set (I couldn’t decide; both are really good to me) They could exchange gifts and sing a cheesy song together.

OH I LOVED THIS PROMPT OMG

mike rebuilding castle byers is So Personal to me, and honest to god, idk why i haven't written it yet. so thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that! i hope you enjoy!

—

4: so why don’t we go (somewhere only we know)

If there’s anyone in the world that Will Byers trusts, it’s Mike Wheeler.

That’s not to say that Will doesn’t trust other people, because honestly, Will is probably too trusting of most people in the world. He’s always had a gentler personality and always worn his heart on his sleeve and always been quick to give people second chances, even if they don’t necessarily deserve it. It’s just in Will’s nature to trust other people until they absolutely cannot be trusted.

But there’s no one else in the world that Will trusts more than Mike Wheeler.

Mike’s been there for nearly his entire life, after all. He’s stood beside Will through thick and thin (with the exception of that messy year between middle school and high school), and he’s always been the person who knows and understands Will better than anybody else does. Trusting Mike comes easily to Will—in the same way that breathing comes easily to him. It’s not something that he even has to think about anymore. He just inherently trusts Mike with everything.

…

Well, almost everything.

“Mike, I swear,” Will grumbles, after tripping over what feels like the twentieth tree branch in the last ten minutes. “If I trip and fall on my face because of you, I’m breaking up with you.”

“You’re not going to fall,” Mike bemoans, and he tightens his grip on Will’s shoulders, carefully steering him in a different direction. “Will you stop being such a drama queen?”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen?” Will huffs a little, probably too overdramatic laugh. “I’m the drama queen. You’re kidding, right?”

He’s met with silence from his boyfriend for a few long, uncomfortable moments.

Then:

“You’re the worst,” Mike declares, and suddenly, Will is being pulled backwards and is tripping over his own damn feet, right back into the loving arms of his boyfriend. A little yelp escapes Will’s lips, and Mike just laughs—bright and beautiful and so full of life. It’s adorable enough that Will momentarily forgets the fact that he’d almost definitely fallen over in the woods (multiple times) and also the fact that he still has no idea where Mike is taking him.

“You love me,” Will replies, muffled and quiet since his face is pressed up against Mike’s shoulder. Now that he’s managed to not stumble over his own two feet, it’s not a bad place to be in, and Will leans in closer, breathing in the familiar scent of the detergent that Mrs. Wheeler has used since they were kids mixed in with the cologne Mike’s parents had gotten him for Christmas this past year.

“I do,” Mike says, soft and a bit breathless, and he leans down, pressing his lips against Will’s forehead in a gentle kiss. “You know I do.”

Will can’t help but hum, and he wraps his arms around his boyfriend, content and warm and safe in the embrace. For a February day, it’s surprisingly warm outside, and the sun is out for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“So, did you blindfold me and bring me out to the woods just to hug me?” Will mumbles.

“Would you be mad if I did?” Mike mumbles back, his voice soft and teasing, and Will just laughs.

“Maybe a little,” he teases, pulling back enough so that he would be looking at Mike, if he weren’t blindfolded. “Especially since we could’ve just cuddled on your couch. It’s a lot warmer in your family’s basement than it is out here.”

A quiet laugh escapes Mike’s lips, and he kisses Will’s forehead again. “It’s not that bad out today,” he points out, and he hugs Will closer. “Besides, if we get cold, we can just huddle together for warmth.”

“Mm,” Will hums, leaning into the embrace, “good point, good point. Is that your way of saying there really was no other reason you brought me out here?”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Mike deadpans, and Will just laughs, pushing against his chest. “Sure, let’s just waste our Saturday afternoon wandering in the woods like we’re twelve again. Or like we’re sixteen and on patrol.”

“Romantic,” Will remarks. “You really know how to woo a guy, Mike Wheeler.”

This time, Mike just groans, and he pushes Will away slightly, before taking him by the shoulders again. “I’ll have you know I am very good at wooing guys,” Mike huffs as he carefully steers Will through the woods.

“Oh?” Will teases. “Says who?”

Mike lets out a little indignant squawk. “You are so,” he sputters, “so—”

“So?”

“Annoying,” Mike grumbles, but there’s no real heat to his voice. “And mean.”

“Annoying and mean,” Will echoes, fighting the urge to grin. “You’re really doing a great job at this wooing me thing, babe.”

Once again, Mike just lets out an exasperated groan, and he keeps walking forward, still holding Will close. “One of these days, I’m going to catch you in the act,” he warns. “And I’ll make sure everyone sees the real Will Byers. Everyone thinks you’re the nice one of the relationship, but look at you.”

Will just laughs, and he tilts his head back, just enough so Mike can see his smile. “Nobody’s ever going to believe you,” he teases. “Except maybe Jonathan. But God knows he’ll side with me just to piss you off.”

“You and your entire family are going to be the death of me,” Mike deadpans. Then, before Will can even think of a response, Mike brings both of them to a stop, and he squeezes Will’s shoulder gently. “I hope you know how much I love you.”

Once again, Will turns his head, and he blindly reaches up, placing his hand on Mike’s cheek. “Of course, I do,” he says softly. “And you know I love you too… terrible wooing skills and all.”

“Asshole,” Mike grumbles, but he leans forward, kissing Will—soft and sweet. “Anyways. We’re here. Be prepared to eat your words, William. I am excellent at wooing you, thank you very much.”

Will laughs softly, and he kisses Mike back, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m excited to see why you brought me out here,” he whispers, and he means it. Even with all the teasing and the flirting, Will knows Mike is the most thoughtful, intentional person in his life. At the end of the day, there’s no one who puts more effort into loving the people around him than Mike does.

Mike exhales a soft, breathy laugh, and he steps away. “Okay,” he says, sounding a little bit more nervous now. “I’m gonna take your blindfold off now, got it?”

Will nods. “Got it.”

Mike takes another nervous breath, and his hands go to the blindfold around Will’s eyes, carefully and gently undoing the knot. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” he murmurs, just as the old green bandana falls from Will’s eyes, finally allowing him to see…

Oh.

Will blinks—once, twice, thrice—and his breath catches.

Because there, standing right in front of him, is a new and improved Castle Byers.

It’s a lot bigger than the original Castle Byers—which is very helpful, considering the fact that Will’s a lot bigger than when he first built Castle Byers with his brother years ago. It looks sturdier too—built with twigs and branches, but also actual pieces of wood that’ll probably help it withstand storms and angry baseball bats and trembling hands better than the first fort did. But other than that, it looks nearly identical to Will’s childhood fort—with the familiar ALL FRIENDS WELCOME sign still hanging proudly on top of the fort.

“I, um… I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Mike whispers, and as he moves to stand next to Will, Will glances up, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes. There’s a shy, tentative smile on his face, and he shrugs slightly. “Ever since you, um… you tore it down, actually. But then you moved away, and the whole thing with One happened… and there was just never a good time. But I… I wanted to do this for you, both… as an apology for that day, but also just a gift for you.”

Mike pauses here, and he smiles again, warm and gentle. “One of my favorite parts about you is how you’ve never lost yourself, Will,” he says softly. “I mean… even when everyone else was trying to be someone they’re not, you kept being yourself. You were never scared to be you, and I just… I don’t know. You always make me feel brave enough and safe enough to be myself, and… I wanted to give you this. Just… to say thank you.”

Tears sting Will’s eyes, and before Mike can say anything else, Will all but tackles him into a kiss, holding him close. A surprised little “oof” escapes Mike’s lips, muffled against the kiss, and he stumbles backwards, before wrapping his arms around Will to steady both of them.

“I love you,” Will whispers, pulling away just enough to look Mike in the eye. “I love you so much.”

Mike beams, and there’s a softness in his eyes. “Even with my terrible wooing skills?” he teases.

“I changed my mind,” Will teases back, and he kisses his boyfriend again, slower and more deliberate this time. “I definitely changed my mind.”

Another laugh escapes Mike’s lips. “Good,” he says smugly, holding Will closer. “And I didn’t even have to show you the picnic I have for us inside!”

Will can’t help but smile, and he presses his forehead against Mike’s, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that, right?” Will whispers. “You’re incredible, and I love you, and also, there is no way anything I’m ever going to be able to top this gift.”

“You don’t need to,” Mike laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

“Sap,” Will says immediately, and the two of them share another smile. “You complete and utter sap.”

“You love it,” Mike teases. “You love meeee.”

He says it like that’s some kind of massive, insane victory—like it isn’t the easiest thing in the world for Will to love him. Like Will hasn’t been falling in love with him—as a friend, as a best friend, and now as a boyfriend—since the very first day the two of them met on that swing set. Like the best thing in Will’s life isn’t getting to love Mike Wheeler and getting to be loved by him in return.

“I do,” Will whispers back, and he stands on his tiptoes, kissing Mike again sweetly. “I love you so much.”

Mike’s gaze softens, and he kisses Will back, before murmuring, “I love you too.”

(The rest of their afternoon is, in fact, spent cuddling with each other, and stuffing their faces full of picnic food that Will’s sure Mrs. Wheeler must have helped him make, and laughing about the most random things like the gossip they’ve overheard from school or the latest updates in their friends’ love lives, and singing ridiculous, stupid songs together simply because they can.

There’s nobody else here but the two of them, after all. And this place, which once crumpled into ruins as the result of harsh words and painful distance and broken friendships, begins to become Will’s safe place again.

The rest of the world falls away when the two of them are in Castle Byers, until all Will can focus on is Mike Wheeler and just how damn much Will loves him.

It’s the greatest gift Will could’ve asked for.)

#byler #byler ficlet #andi writes not dies #ok wow #who would've though that tooth rotting fluff would be good for the soul

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thetargaryenbride · 1 year ago

Text

Nail To The Coffin - S4 - Chapter 3

Warnings: self-h@rm and $uicid@al thoughts [I’m sorry about that. I don’t delve too deep into this tho.]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 7810

𝐀𝐍: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘠𝘌𝘛 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥/𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭.

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕: 𝑰 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 😁

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

“Y/N, wake up. We’ve arrived,” you felt a hand shake your shoulder slightly and your eyes fluttered open, landing on Jonathan. “Come see our new home,” he smiled at you and you sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes and temples so you could properly wake up before exiting the car and joining your family.

It was a two-story house made of thick wooden planks, like most others, painted in a combination of white and navy blue. There was a medium-sized yard with a white picket fence. The porch had two comfy armchairs with a table in between and lots of plants scattered all over. The windows were huge, in places almost taking up the entirety of the wall. There were lots of trees – both normal and palms – down the street and all throughout the neighborhood, throwing nice shades. There was a big one in your yard, big and sturdy enough so you could make yourselves a swing and hang it up. There were two big balconies on the second floor, the railing of which similar to the fence around the house.

What you loved a lot was the big front door with gorgeous stained glass.

It was located in Santa Monica, Fraser Avenue, which was not far from Westwood, UCLA, and was only thirty or so minutes distance by bus. It was the perfect spot.

“Woah…Dr. Owens really outdid himself,” you let out and Will and El looked at you with sparkling eyes, which made you smile. You were glad and more than content to see them happy, even if you were tearing on the inside because you missed home and you missed Steve and Eddie.

You missed Hopper and Billy too.

You never did visit their graves after that stormy, summer day when you had poured your soul out in front of them.

You never got the proper closure you needed in order to fully move on.

So now, you felt stuck.

Now, this place was weighing heavily on your chest. It felt wrong being here away from Hawkins and everything you loved and needed. It felt wrong starting anew when people you cherished were rotting six feet under.

But at least you were glad to see Will and El smile. They needed this. Maybe to them, starting anew was something good, something to look forward to and explore, an adventure, something to aid their healing, even though they also missed Mike and the others.

“C’mon, let’s get in!” Will grabbed you by the hand and began dragging you towards the front door and shortly after, all of you piled inside.

The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. It was very coastal style with lots of white and blue colors, wooden tones, and some marine and Mediterranean patterns. The kitchen, dining space, and living room were merged together. There was a bathroom on each floor, and there were two rooms on the first floor – the only ones that weren’t fully furnished – that you were going to transform into bedrooms for Jonathan and your mom. Meanwhile, there were three bedrooms on the second floor that were going to be for you, Will, and El.

But the moment you set foot in your bedroom, it wasn’t the nice, comfy-looking bed you noticed first, or the colors and the patterns on the walls, or the big desk you’d be able to use for studying, or the space you had to place all your figurines, canvas, and other art things. No. What you noticed first was the view from the balcony and the windows of your room.

The ocean.

Apparently, Dr. Owens believed that this would be therapeutical for you, that it would benefit your mental health because it was scientifically proven that the ocean, or water in general, helped a lot to soothe a troubled mind. He called it, the blue mind theory.

“This theory explains how being near water, even for just twenty minutes a day, has a great impact on our wellbeing,” had explained the man.

Yet for you, it turned out to be the exact opposite.

Instead, the moment you took a glimpse of the body of water, your whole body chilled to the bone and you got flooded with memories of Billy. You could almost feel his presence right next to you, you could almost hear him talking to you as if he was still alive and standing by your side, speaking fondly of the blue horizon, how much he missed the ocean, how much he loved to surf and dive. It was so overwhelming it made you dizzy, making you pull the curtains and block the view.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” came Will’s voice and you shut your eyes, taking a large, deep gulp of air in order to calm your racing heart, before you turned to face your brother, forcing a smile on.

“Everything is fine.”

At first, you thought of asking your mom to change rooms. But soon after, you came to realize that no matter what room you were in, you could always see the ocean. And as the days weaved by, this fact became ever the more frustrating to you. Every time you’d get a glimpse of the water, your mind would jump to Billy.

The more time went by, the more you were getting bothered by the view.

Everything around you served as too heavy a reminder that he was gone...Gone because he got mixed up in your messy world…and because you failed him.

It’s like the place was soaked in his presence. Sometimes, on the rare occasions when you’d go on the balcony and look at the nauseating blue, you even thought you were seeing him by the beach, swimming in the ocean, or riding the waves on his board. It’s like some invisible force that you couldn’t fight against wired your brain to think of this all the time. You thought of how he should’ve been here instead. How he should’ve gotten the chance to return to his beloved California and ride the waves again – one of the very few things that made him truly happy in this wretched life of his. The ocean and the waves were his companions and coping mechanisms against his father’s abuse. The water gave him peace of mind and made him feel happy. He was extra sour and angry when he was torn away from it and now he was never going to come back to it.

It’s like he was a ghost that haunted your every waking minute. And not only waking. Even in your dreams, you saw him and Hopper and relived the incident over and over again. You were mercilessly thrown into the dark depths of plaguing nightmares that tormented you every night.

It’s like the survivor guilt you had been battling against all summer returned in full force. It’s like something was digging into your very soul and carving out pieces to throw into that same ocean. It’s like all the progress you’ve made was for naught because your mental health deteriorated faster than a sinking ship once you moved out of Hawkins. In fact, it felt like ripping off a band-aid and tearing the scab off the healing tissue, causing it to reopen and bleed again.

Your family wasn’t blind to this.

They could see it all – the fear, the torment, the silent, simmering-within insanity and hysteria that overtook you.

And they were scared. They were scared that you’d get even more lost and that maybe you’d end up being swallowed by the same ocean you so feared to face.

For the longest of time, so did you, hence why you avoided it like the plague. Not once did you go to the beach since moving to LA. You were afraid that if you did that, you might just as well succumb to it and let it take you into its depths forever.

All of this was so overbearing that it sent you careening down a path of self-loathing and an even deeper survivor’s guilt. Coupled with the fact that you were away from Steve and the others, having to build your life anew, dealing with university, burying yourself in studying non-stop which had forced the return of your eye bags and dark circles, almost making you reach out for the sweet Ketamine, or something stronger, again, made everything all the more unbearable.

This resulted in you spiraling into suicidal thoughts that suffocated you, scratched you, and tore you apart so badly that at one point you actually began thinking of ending it all. Just slicing your flesh and bleeding out in the bathtub or maybe finally going to the ocean just so you could throw yourself off a bridge and let the water wrestle the oxygen out of your lungs.

During the first months after moving in, you had only two states of mind.

You were either utterly overwhelmed by everything and wanted something to distract you from the mess that was in your head, because it truly felt like someone was hammering nails into your brain, or you were just completely numb, not feeling anything both physically and mentally, and you wanted to make yourself feel something, to make sure you were still alive.

No adrenaline helped fix the numbness and no meditations and art therapies helped fix the chaos in your head. You were bouncing back and forth between those two states of mind and it was the most excruciating thing you’ve ever experienced – perhaps even worse than what you had to deal with after the damages inflicted by the Flayer, although this condition was also more of an extension of said damages.

You felt like a vase. A vase that got broken, then someone glued the pieces together but the glue wasn’t strong enough so at one point the porcelain fell apart again and the person was trying to glue the pieces all over again.

So sometimes, when you lay in bed, unable to sleep because of nightmares or the multiple thoughts in your head that didn’t give you peace, you thought of how much you wanted to escape the torturous grip of life and fall into the sweet release of death. You thought of how much you wanted to replace Billy. You wished he was here instead and that you were rotting in the ground back in Hawkins.

The thing is, you never did have the courage to go through with it.

You’d begin cutting but you’d always stop yourself and then you would cry your eyes out while bandaging your wrist as immense guilt and disgust would overwhelm you.

You did it three times.

On the fourth, you were caught by Jonathan.

Everyone had been keeping a close eye on you after moving to LA but Jonathan was extra insightful. He realized what was going on before anyone else did and one day he stalked you to the bathroom and caught you red-handed – figuratively and literally. He immediately slapped the razor away and cleaned and bandaged the cut through falling tears, not uttering a single word the whole time which made you feel even more guilty and horrible.

When Will, El, and your mom found out, because Jonathan refused to keep it a secret, they were devastated. Your mom especially cried her eyes out, secretly in her room without knowing you could hear her when passing by. That made you feel even more horrible for causing such pain to your family again. For letting them down. For thinking it was a good idea to abandon them. How could you do that to them? Especially to Will and El who were so young and traumatized beyond belief already. You didn’t need to throw more sorrow and trauma onto their shoulders.

That, and the amazing therapist your mother and Dr. Owens had found for you, made you give up on the idea of self-harm and death. At the core of it, though, it was all thanks to Jonathan because he was the one who caught you and thankfully he did so on time. Sure, you were in a state that was unstable, chaotic, messy, and troubled, but it was not irreversible and impossible to fix. It was all still in its beginning phase which is why you were able to begin your healing journey relatively fast after that.

The thoughts returned occasionally, tempting you, but every time it happened, you ran to your family for help. You shared your struggles and thoughts with them, and they did their best to help you win the fight against your demons.

It wasn’t until one night when you were passing by your mother’s desk that you saw a newspaper open on the page of properties for rent. Your mother was looking for a place to rent so you could move out. That had hit you like a rock-solid wave. You couldn’t believe that this chain of emotions and traumas was triggered by the ocean of all things and now your mother was thinking of moving away from it… for you. She was doing it all for your benefit and you knew the others were going to follow through in a heartbeat. But they seemed so happy in this house, going to the beach, having fun.

So one day, without telling anyone, you decided to take drastic action.

You didn’t want them to move to another house because of you. You had just properly settled into this one. You didn’t want your siblings’ time to pass by in constant moving and adjusting to new places. Once was enough.

You went to the beach and tried to fight against everything inside you that was screaming at you to run away. You tried fighting against the visions and thoughts of Billy’s decaying torso, filled with holes that gushed black blood. You tried to fight against the feeling of razors on the soles of your feet once they touched the sand.

But before your mind could win, before fear and trauma could overpower you, you forced your legs to move, and just like that you ran headfirst into the water and dived under. You felt your ears get squeezed and muffled by the water pressure and you could hear the frequency of your own heartbeat and blood circulation.

It was weirdly humbling… and soothing.

The water caressed your skin and had such an instant calming effect on you that it shocked you to the core. It chased away any previous feelings of fear. The chaos in your mind quietened and the numbness got filled with the sound of water and dolphins.

You hadn’t wanted to set foot on the sand and near the water, you hadn’t wanted to even look at them, and now you didn’t want to leave.

And it’s like something in your brain snapped at that moment. It was like flipping a light switch.

In fact, you actually almost ran out of oxygen when you felt strong arms grab yours and pull you out.

“Are you okay? Breathe with me! Just breathe!”

That’s how you first met Ronnie – the lifeguard everyone seemed to have the hots for, yet he seemed to talk and flirt only with you. Maybe because he saved you from almost drowning and was there to witness your moment of ecstasy so he became weirdly attached to you.

That same day, you got home absolutely drenched, clothes and hair wrinkled and clinging to you as you dripped seawater onto the floors and carpets. It was a rather ridiculous sight to behold as your siblings would inform you later on.

“Mama, you’ll never believe what just happened,” were the first words you uttered while she stared at you in complete bewilderment.

“Honey, what happened to you!?”

“I was swimming in the ocean,” you revealed just in time when everyone else ran into the living room and they could only stare in utter stupor.

“You did…what again?” asked Jonathan in disbelief.

“I swam in the ocean,” you repeated, a smile growing on your face. “I swam in the ocean!” you exclaimed and Joyce let out a baffled chuckle before sharing looks with the others.

And then all of you laughed.

Eventually, you were able to somehow turn the tide around and learned to look at the ocean with different eyes. Slowly, it did become a therapy for you, aiding the one you were already receiving, and a way to fondly remember, cherish, and honor Billy’s memory instead of agonizing over it. He would’ve absolutely loathed you for avoiding the ocean – the one thing he loved the most – and he would’ve smacked you across the head and scolded you for falling victim to such a mindset. You used all that to fuel yourself and even began learning how to surf. Every time you’d go to the beach, instead of seeing a dying, blood-gurgling Billy, you’d see a happy Billy. You’d see his charming, mischievous smile and you’d hear his laughter and the way he fondly spoke of the ocean and his surfing.

“I’ll surf for the both of us,” you had promised while painting and decorating your board, and true to your word, you surfed every day and as time went by, you became a great surfer, much to your family’s surprise. It’s like you channeled Billy and now you ruled the waves instead of fearing them.

So while your flesh was now scarred because of the rough first months you had, you were at least proud of yourself that even after being pushed to the edge, you didn’t topple over it and you were steadily walking the path of overcoming some of the darkest moments in your life.

Of course, you couldn’t help but still feel sad sometimes. It’s like that feeling came and went like an uninvited guest, never truly leaving you, because the path you were walking was long, tedious, and you still had a long way to go. You knew that nothing was or was ever going to be like it used to be. You would always carry the pain, the sorrow, and the bad memories with you which was something that prevented your smile from being as bright as it used to be and created a certain air of melancholia around you, but you were on your way to getting better and that’s what mattered most at the end of the day. You were trying your damn hardest and you knew that one day you’d be able to completely defeat the traumas and regain your bright smile. The broken vase was being pieced together slowly and steadily and this time you had hope that it wasn’t going to fall apart again.

Unfortunately, because the process of healing was far from complete, you still had moments of weakness, moments when insecurities took over, moments when bad memories and trauma took over, making you more sensitive, hurting you, forcing you to relive the pain you were trying to overcome. Like that time when your professor groped you. Sometimes it hit you when you walked down the hallways and saw people looking at you and whispering, thinking they were talking about you which oftentimes made you feel insecure about everything – the way you were dressed, the way you looked, whether the scars on your wrist were visible, etc.

You never did tell Steve about any of this.

You just didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t want him to know just how hard you had taken the moving and that the ocean had triggered a whole lot of problems and traumas for you that reversed all the hard work you had put into healing during the summer.

So you didn’t blame him when he grabbed your wrist and pulled it closer to himself so he could inspect it. You didn’t blame him for freaking out. You didn’t blame him for needing answers, or for worrying about your mental health.

“Can we…can we just focus on cleaning the wound, please?” you looked at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this. We’re dealing with something…really bad right now,” you tried to divert their attention onto the issue at hand but Steve shook his head.

“No…No! We’re totally having this conversation. I need to know what’s going on!” he waved his hands in a frenzy and you sighed.

“Steve, nothing is going on. Not anymore,” you revealed but his eyes still held onto the panic, looking at you with disbelief. “Listen, the first months were just…very hard for me, okay? Shit hit the fan in the most unpleasant way and this was the result,” you jerked your wrist. “But it’s over now. I’m…I’m healing…It was a rough moment of weakness…But I overcame it. The thoughts come back sometimes,” you admitted. “But they’re just an echo. They don’t have the same powerful grip as they used to during those first months…okay?” you looked deep into his eyes, making sure he got the message, and he nodded slowly, still unconvinced but he chose to put his trust in you either way.

“Okay,” he muttered as he grabbed the bottle of water and unclasped it, pouring some onto your palm to clean it which made you hiss. He continued to silently treat your wound and the stillness of the atmosphere was getting to you, so you decided to break it.

“Look, I would really appreciate it if you guys don’t walk on eggshells around me. I promise, I’m…fine,” you tried to reassure them even though you didn’t fully trust your own words, mostly because of the strange visions you were getting, and everyone shared concerned, unsure looks before nodding.

“No pity looks, worried looks, or hawk looks, got it,” agreed Robin, and you sent her a grateful smile.

“Okay, so,” you drawled. “It’s gonna get dark soon. I suggest we…rest for now?”

“I agree. This is too much to handle in one day,” sighed Max before standing up and grabbing her bag.

“Hey, hold on. I was going to offer we bunk up here,” you spoke out and she halted in her movements. “It’s gonna be…less lonely and scary if we’re all together.”

“I’m all up for that!” Dustin immediately agreed with a grin.

“I mean…sure, why not?” joined Robin and you smiled, turning to look at Max expectantly who fidgeted in her spot for a bit before begrudgingly agreeing.

“Great! Um, Eddie, you can take Jonathan’s room. Dustin, you can take Will’s, and Robin and Max, you guys can take mom’s. Her bed is big enough for two people to fit in,” you offered.

Before you could say anything else, Steve finished wrapping up your hand and stood up, wordlessly walking away and into your room. You let out a heavy sigh before you stood up as well and followed after him.

“Ookay,” drawled Robin awkwardly. “Who wants some sweets?” she asked with a tight smile and everyone lifted their hands.

You shut the door quietly as you hesitantly walked into your room, eyes worriedly running over Steve’s form. He had his back turned on you as he paced slowly around the room, hands on his hips, head down.

“Steve-“

“How could you not tell me about any of this?” he cut you off as he finally stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, suddenly making you feel even more nervous than you were before. “Y/N, this is serious. You were,” he gulped. “Y-you were thinking of-of…putting an end…to your life,” he raised his voice a little but it wasn’t all fueled by anger. It was mostly filled with worry.

He was upset. Rightfully so.

“I didn’t tell you… because I didn’t want to worry you,” you began as you wrung your hands, not being able to look him in the eyes.

“Y/N, don’t come at me with that kinda excuse-“

“It’s not an excuse. I’m serious,” you took a step forward and lifted your head to look him in the eyes. “If I had told you, you would’ve come running to California.”

“And is that such a bad thing!?”

“It is because you would’ve seen me at my lowest…again,” you admitted bitterly and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t understand.”

“You already saw me at my lowest once…after the Mind Flayer incident…and you were there for me, every step of the road to recovery. You suffered so much because of me. You took so much of my pain and burden onto yourself. It’s because of you, taking so much of my load, that I was able to somehow piece myself together. But who was there to take that load off of you?” you shook your head, eyes darting all over the room insecurely before settling back onto his. “If I had told you, you would’ve gone through the same hell again. And I just couldn’t find it in me to put you through something like this again,” you admitted and his face distorted into one of sympathy, understanding, but also pain.

“Okay, when you put it like that, I understand. But still,” he threw his hands in defeat. “Y/N, I’m your boyfriend. And I love you. I love you so much,” he confessed sincerely and you felt your heart melt at his vigor and determination. “I don’t mind shouldering your burden at all. I’m fine with it. Even if there’s nobody to take it off my shoulders. Actually, there is no need for another person to take the burden off. We’re together in this. You and I. We hold one another through bad times. We share the difficulties and overcome them together. You don’t need to worry about me shouldering your burden. They are mine to shoulder too and I will do it without hesitation,” he waved his hand categorically and your smile grew. “So please,” he shortened the distance between you and grabbed your hands in his, mindful of your bandaged one. “Don’t ever hide such things from me just because you want to protect me or something,” he pleaded with sad eyes and you shut yours, gulping the lump in your throat, before nodding.

You had been so afraid of his reaction, because you knew he was eventually going to find out, and you had expected him to be super mad and maybe not even talk to you for a while. But seeing him now, showing such understanding, made you realize how much he’s grown and it’s like he was getting wiser with each passing day.

“Steve Harrington, you’re made out of gold…and I’m the luckiest girl because I’m able to call you mine,” you whispered and his lip curled into a smirk, eyes rolling goodnaturedly before he leaned and pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss full of love and desperation.

Your body flushed against his as you slowly began to push him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and don’t get me wrong, I really wanna do it too, but are you sure we can, I mean, there are people out there,” he muttered against your lips in between kisses and you shrugged.

“It’s been almost a year, Steve,” you reminded him and he hummed.

“Fair point,” he stuttered out a second before the two of you toppled onto the bed and his arms quickly found their way around your waist, hands roaming over your sides before he flipped you around so you were the one lying under him.

“Can you keep quiet?”

“So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news,” spoke out Dustin and the atmosphere turned from somewhat cheerful into dreadful. “How do you prefer it?”

“Bad news first, always,” responded Eddie right away.

You and Steve, unfortunately, didn’t have the time to indulge in love-making, for you had been interrupted by Dustin knocking on the door, urging you to sort out your problems later because you had to go out and investigate what was going on with the police. And while Eddie had stayed at your house, hiding, everyone else decided to go out while you still had some daylight to spare. Robin, Dustin, and Max went one way while you and Steve went another, stopping at the supermarket at one point so you could buy all kinds of products to stock yourself with.

“All right. Bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you,” revealed Dustin and Eddie’s face fell. “Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed C-Chrissy,” the boy’s eyes darted nervously between you and Eddie as he said that and you folded your lips, leaving the glass on the counter and walking slowly over to the table.

“Like, hundred percent convinced,” added Max.

“And the good news?”

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” explained Robin. “But it’s probably a matter of time before they find out you’re hiding here and-”

“Let them,” you intervened and everyone snapped their heads to look at you in surprise. “Let them find out that he’s here... We can use that to our advantage and just say he’s been here the whole time.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Dustin waved his hands with a scrunched-up forehead. “You mean to say…we give them a fake alibi?”

“Yeah. We’ll just say that all of us gathered to celebrate so Eddie wasn’t home when the…when the murder happened,” you gulped.

“So you say we lie to the police?”

“Look, we can’t go out there and start hunting Vecna,” you shook your head. “We don’t know how long that’s gonna take and in the meantime, Eddie can get in serious trouble. Like, he might actually get convicted of murder, arrested, and thrown into prison, while right as of now he’s only a suspect. There’s still a loophole, a way to divert the suspicion away from him…Besides, even if we hunt down Vecna and kill him that may not be enough to prove Eddie’s innocence. So the best route to take is to just talk to the police and tell them Eddie’s been with us the whole time, away from his home.”

“But-“

“Hopper would’ve done it,” you reminded them with a bit of a bite in your tone which silenced them. “He wouldn’t have allowed an innocent person to be wrongly accused and arrested even if it meant achieving this through a fake alibi... I intend to follow his ideology.”

“Are you sure it’s going to work?” pressed Max and you sighed heavily through your nose.

“If I know Calvin…it’s going to work. But we have to go now.”

“Y/N?” Calvin’s eyes widened when he opened the door after hearing loud knocking and saw you standing there with a bunch of other teens behind you. “When did you get here?” he asked as his lip twitched into a fond smile and you gave him a quick hug before entering his office, urging the others to follow.

“Last evening,” you lied smoothly through your teeth. “I spent the whole day traveling. First the plane, then the bus, gosh, it was a nightmare,” you groaned and he let out a chuckle, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

“Missed you, kiddo.”

“Me too. I missed everyone. Pity I didn’t catch Flo and the others but…hopefully tomorrow…Listen, we heard the news of…of the murdered student,” you decided it was time for you to jump to the topic at hand and the man let out a heavy sigh.

“Look, Y/N, this is a very sensitive topic right now-“ his tone wavered when he finally got a good look at the group of teens you had come with, eyes landing on no other than Eddie and widening in surprise. “You’re Munson’s boy,” spoke the man, his body tensing. “The body of the girl was-“

“Uncle Calvin,” you drew his attention onto you. “We came here exactly because of that.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“When we heard about the murder we sort of…went to investigate and…we found out it took place at Eddie’s home,” you began. “But the thing is, Eddie wasn’t there the night this happened. We were all together, actually. The moment I arrived back in Hawkins, I went to see Steve and Robin. And after that, we went to meet with Eddie, Dustin, Max, and Lucas. We wanted to gather the whole group and throw a party for my return. So all of us spent the night together,” you described everything without stuttering once and prayed that you managed to sound convincing enough.

“Hold on, hold on,” waved his hands the man. “You mean to tell me that Munson wasn’t at the trailer when the girl was murdered?” he asked and all of you nodded.

“Yes, he was with us the whole time,” butted in Steve.

“When we woke up today and heard about all this, we got worried,” added Robin as she tried to suppress the nervous shaking of her voice by clearing her throat. “So we went to check what was going on and when we learned that Eddie was considered the main suspect-“

“We immediately ran here to tell you because we didn’t want any misunderstandings to harm Munson here,” finished Steve as he patted the boy in question’s shoulder, his hand staying there and squeezing encouragingly.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered the officer, eyebrows furrowing deep in thought. “Then…who could have done it?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I can promise you that it wasn’t me and I can also guarantee it wasn’t my uncle because he’s been taking night shifts at the plant these past weeks,” spoke out Eddie with a slightly shaky voice and Calvin rubbed his chin.

“I bet that whoever did it chose Eddie’s home on purpose. I mean, it’s easier to frame a family who’s had clashes with crime before in order to get the police off their trail and misguide everyone,” added Robin while whirling to whisper a ‘Sorry’ to Eddie.

“Alright, kids, I’m grateful for your help and the information you provided but I think it’s time you went home,” said the man seriously. “Eddie, I’m not going to arrest you or anything but I’m afraid I’ll still need to keep an eye on you, so stay put and keep a low profile, okay? Meanwhile, I’ll tell the others to get off your back and investigate more.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” asked the man and Eddie fidgeted in his spot a bit.

“He can just stay at home,” you suggested. “House arrest will be funnier with friends, no?”

“Alright, but inform your uncle first. He’s quite worried about you.”

“I’ll call him right away.”

Next Morning

“This is the moment I was looking forward to the most,” you muttered and Steve hummed, cracking open an eye.

Last night, you, Max, and Robin had prepared a delicious dinner, with Steve and Eddie annoying you and butting in occasionally, trying to help but making everything messy instead, which resulted in you kicking them out of the kitchen. You had watched a movie because all of you wanted to distract yourselves with something, to take your minds off the current crisis even if it was for a while. You had talked afterwards, caught up, and shared interesting stories and experiences, with you having the most to share. Then everyone went to bed except for you and Steve who finally got the chance to spend the night together.

“You’re just the cutest when you’re all groggy,” you chuckled and he let out a huff.

“Only when I’m groggy?” he slurred and you ran a hand through his hair.

“All the time. But especially when you’re waking up.”

He took hold of your hand and pried it out of his locks, bringing it to his lips so he could place a kiss on top. He felt the rough surface of bandages instead of skin and he sobered up, lifting himself up and propping his upper body on his elbow while his hand was busy holding and observing yours, finally taking proper notice of the couple of scars that were lined on your wrist and the eight-pointed star tattoo that covered a small part of them.

“They’re ugly,” you groaned and he let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head as he lowered it to place butterfly kisses on your wrist. “I’m ugly. Like…I’ve lost so much weight because of…everything that happened…I guess…it just piled on and…you can see my ribcage now for fuck’s sake,” you huffed in discontent.

“If you say you’re ugly ever again, I’ll wash your mouth with soap,” he threatened and you snorted. “Y/N you look beautiful,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world while looking deep into your eyes, and you didn’t see a sliver of hesitation or wavering in his tone and the energy he exuded. “You’ll always be beautiful... You just look…more tired…” he uttered with pity and defeat.

“Well, after last night, how can I not be?” you tried to play it off and he would’ve laughed and smirked teasingly had this been under any other circumstances.

“You know what I mean.”

Just as you were about to say something, there was a knock on your door, interrupting the moment.

“Are you thinking of finally getting out of bed, lovebirds? Look at the time!”

“Well, well, well, look who decided to finally grace us with their royal presence,” greeted Eddie while he poured warm milk into his bowl and Steve rolled his eyes. “Good morning, King Steve. I hope you slept well,” he sang out with a sly smirk.

“Good morning to you too, little troll,” Steve quipped and Eddie put a hand on his chest as if he had just been deeply offended.

“Here,” Max handed you a glass of juice and you thanked her before grabbing it and taking a sip.

“So,” drawled Robin as she slithered closer to you. “Did you two make some royal babies last night?” she asked with a smirk, bobbing her eyebrows, and you choked on the liquid, almost spitting it out.

“Ew,” muttered Max with a face scrunched up in disgust as she took her plate and quickly left the counter, heading for the table.

“Are you trying to commit murder, Robin Hood? Because you almost succeeded,” you sputtered and cleared your throat while wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I’m afraid regicide is not yet on my list but if I feel adventurous one day, I’ll add it,” she snorted out a laugh before joining the rest at the table.

“Okay, guys, seriously, we need a plan of action,” began Dustin, and just then, the phone rang.

You gulped as you left the glass on the counter and rushed to pick up the device, surprised to hear no other than Eddie’s uncle on the phone.

“Um, guys,” you called out after you finished the conversation and everyone looked on expectantly. “I think the plan of action has got to wait. There’s something we gotta check first.”

“What could possibly be more important than that?”

“Another victim.”

The moment Wayne had called you, telling you about a friend of yours who had interviewed him last night and who had ended up losing her partner in the woods which come morning was followed by sirens and police cars rushing somewhere, you had immediately jumped in Steve’s car while Dustin and Eddie, who had parked his van a bit further down the road which is why you and Steve hadn’t seen it the previous day, got into the van and all of you headed for the crime scene in an instant.

“Did you look into Victor Creel?” asked Nancy, unease lacing her voice, and the policemen shared a look.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

“Victor Creel. Wayne got it in her head that the old nut did this,” sighed Daniel and Calvin clicked his tongue.

“Victor is locked away. Don’t need to worry about him, alright?” tried to comfort her the man. “Now, you said last you saw Fred, he was by the picnic tables. Do I have that right?” he asked but Nancy’s attention was drawn by two vehicles that just arrived and parked not far from the police cars. “Ms. Wheeler?” he asked again and his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed her staring behind him, making him turn around and trail her gaze, eyes landing on your group who had exited the cars and were now heading towards the girl and the policemen.

“Officer,” you called out, choosing to stick with his professional title in front of his colleagues instead of calling him uncle which was reserved only for when he was alone or with Hopper and the others. “What happened?” you asked once you reached him and he shook his head, eyes darting between Nancy and you.

“I think Ms. Wheeler here will be able to tell you the story better than me.”

“Nance?”

“You’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?” asked Nancy after you filled her in and after she filled you in.

“If the shoe fits,” replied Steve.

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse,” explained Dustin. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

“All we know is that…this is something different,” added Max.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” you sighed. “Why is he targeting these people in particular? They have no relation to the supernatural whatsoever and they have nothing in common, nothing that connects them in any way. So why them?” your last question held more bite and poison to it and the others sent you sympathetic looks.

“Maybe there’s no particular reason,” offered Eddie with sagged shoulders. “Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“They were both at the game and near the trailer park.”

“And they both died during the night.”

“Uh, we’re at the trailer park,” reminded them Steve. “Should we maybe not be here?”

“There is something about this place,” agreed Robin.

“I felt uneasy since we arrived,” you muttered as you drummed your fingers against the wooden table, scratching it with your nails a bit, and looked around nervously.

You truly had felt quite heavy and uneasy the moment you had parked here. It was a familiar feeling, something close to what you had felt that night when Will was kidnapped.

“Fred started acting weird the second we got here,” disclosed Nancy.

“Acting weird as in?”

“Scared…on edge…upset.”

“Max said Chrissy was upset too,” blurted out Dustin.

“Yeah, but not here. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Oh, God,” you muttered as you propped your elbows onto the table and buried your head in your hands. “It’s that wretched woman again,” you grit out and the others shared confused looks.

“Woman? What woman?” asked Eddie.

“Her mother,” you grumbled, arms dropping down in defeat. “She’s always pestered her, always body-shamed her, calling her fat, a pig, and whatever other bullshit,” you spat out and everyone scrunched up their faces.

“That’s just sick.”

“It is. Chrissy began forcing herself to throw up the food she’d eat,” you revealed bitterly and their eyes widened.

“What? You mean…she developed an eating disorder because of her mom?”

“Yeah. If that’s not trauma, I don’t know what is.”

“Hold on,” Max’s head shot up in realization. “When you said trauma, I remembered something...I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. Maybe she and Fred saw Vecna and got scared. But if you see a monster, you wouldn’t go to the police, right? They’d never believe you. But, you might go to-“

“Your shrink.”

What followed was your group splitting into two squads.

Squad number one consisted of Nancy and Robin who decided to go and do some research in the library about a ‘shot in the dark’ that Nancy didn’t yet wish to share with the rest of the party.

Squad two consisted of you, Steve, Max, Dustin, and Eddie, who decided to head for Ms. Kelley’s house so Max could go in and try to wrench some information from her regarding Chrissy and Fred’s cases.

Steve had cleaned your cuts and re-wrapped your hand while you waited. Lucas had tried contacting you at one point and you had tried explaining to him that Eddie was innocent but for some reason he cut off, making you all wonder what was going on with the boy. Then, Max bolted out of the woman’s house and jumped into the car, urging him to drive away.

So now, you found yourselves entering the school, having broken into it because it was evening and the building was closed and locked.

“It’s like a mini Watergate or something,” commented Dustin after you entered Ms. Kelley’s office. “Hawkinsgate.”

“Didn’t those guys get caught?” asked Steve as the boys observed something and you shone your flashlight into their faces, making them squeeze their eyes and recoil from the harsh light.

“Hey, can we focus?”

“Alright, alright, just get it off my face.”

“Holy shit,” let out Max which drew everyone’s attention and all of you rushed to her side.

“You found it?”

“Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file. Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too, just like we speculated,” she said as she pulled a couple of thin folders and everyone shared a look while she sat on a chair and slapped the papers onto the desk, quickly skimming through each and every one of them.

Your heart plummeted when you saw everything written on Chrissy’s file, realizing that her physical condition and mental health had only deteriorated since you left Hawkins. It hurt that she hadn’t shared this with you. It made you feel worthless, and helpless because maybe if she had turned to you, you could’ve helped her somehow, because being surrounded by people who loved you and being showered with positivity usually managed to do the trick and help chase away the sorrow and the struggles.

And now you knew how Steve felt when he learned you’d been struggling without telling him anything. And you wanted to smack yourself for not confiding in him.

Trauma was complicated, much like the humans bearing it.

“Can I see Fred’s file?” asked the girl and you quickly handed the document to her, eyes widening once she opened it and revealed the written inside. It was the same as Chrissy’s – severe headaches, constant nightmares, nosebleeds, past trauma.

“Max, what is it? Max? Max!?”

And as Dustin was calling out for the girl, who seemed to have fallen into a state of shock, staring blankly at the papers, it all began making sense.

The pieces of the puzzle had begun taking order.

𝐀𝐍: 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒙, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔/𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉.

𝑰 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑺𝒐, 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆…𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇.

𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 :)

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