#dustin just thinking its normal ragging and fires back

[lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus]

Steddie fic where steve gets possessed (upside down, demons, etc.) who try and wreck his life and relationships? But it has none of his memories cause either 1) Steve ain't letting it happen 2) x entity doesn't have that power. All it has to go off of is emotions? Cue possessed!Steve meeting Eddie and breaking up with him to harvest more chaos, only

Steve and Eddie aren't together

P!Steve: "It's you, not me. I just don't love you anymore" <feeding off emotions

Eddie: ...

Steve: aw shit

P!Steve: *contains malicious chuckle*

Eddie: ... what?

P!Steve: Ik Ik, I still want to ravish you, but I can't! We're over, I'm breaking up with you. I hope you never get over me and think about my face on every pretty boy you fuck

Eddie: *//_//*

The demon/UD gets found out pretty quick.

[capsironunderoos]

The Sauna Test

Billy Hargrove X Byers!Reader

Summary: The reader is supposed to meet Billy after his shift at the pool, but she stumbles upon The Sauna Test instead.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note: *gif credit to owner* Wow so I actually do know how to write something to completion. Who would have known. This came to me at like three in the morning and I’m thinking about a part 2. Let me know what you think!

capsironunderoos masterlist

You hum as you walk across the parking lot and into the pool house, your new sneakers barely making a sound as you round the corner to find Billy.

You’d been planning this date for weeks, trying to find a suitable time that fit both yours and Billy’s schedule.

You remembered when you’d first had the idea how Billy had groaned.

It had been a warm Tuesday morning, the both of you curled under the thin sheets of the bed shoved into the corner of his room, legs tangled together and hands ghosting over exposed skin. 

He had scrunched up his nose and let out a long, dramatic, and almost agonizing groan as his head sounded out a soft thud as it landed on his pillow.

“It’s going to be a good movie Billy!”

He groaned again but this time you cut him short, pinching his arm playfully. 

This stirred a laughing fit from him, and you grinned tenderly at the way his eyes were squeezed shut and the corners of them were wrinkled, and at the melodic sound you seldom heard.

“Just because both of your brothers recommended it to you does not mean it’s going to be a good movie.” 

He let out breathlessly as he turned to look at you laying across from him.

The look of adoration on your face sent his heart into a flutter, and he found his hand coming to rest upon your cheek, pushing stray pieces of hair behind your ear to do so. 

He sighed in willing defeat.

“You know I would go see that movie a million times if it meant I could be with you.”

A loud crash coming from the locker rooms wrenched you out of the memory, concern lacing your brows as you slowly made your way in.

Billy was the only one here, you knew that for a fact. 

There were no other cars or bicycles, or even people for that matter. But your thoughts were quickly changed when you heard frantic yelling and more banging.

As you walked further into the men’s locker room, familiar voices began to fill the air surrounding you.

“Will?” You called as you rounded the corner that led to the sauna, your right hand lingering on the brick wall to pull you back behind it if need be.

A loud “Shit! What is she doing here?” was the only response you got. It was enough to confirm what you already knew.

You stopped when you saw the kids, minus Dustin, standing in front of the door leading to the sauna.

“Okay...” You began, trying your best to stay out of your brothers business. 

He had been through enough, and you had promised to give him space and time to try and return to his normal life. To be a kid. But, when you had said that, this wasn’t exactly the situation you’d had in mind.

“Have you guys seen Billy?” You finished, and a look of panic passed through each of their faces.

“No but you look nice (Y/N)!” Mike chimed in before any of the other kids could answer. 

His quick response roused further suspicion and Lucas hit his side and sent him a glare, causing a quiet yelp to echo through the room.

“Thank you but I’m looking for Billy. We’re going to see Back to the Future tonight and if we don’t leave soon we’ll miss it.”

All of the kids began speaking at once, as if someone had flipped a switch and forced them to.

“That’s such a good movie!” 

“You guys will love it!” 

“I saw it last week!”

Your mouth gaped open and closed like a fish as you tried to decide how and when you would get a word in. They had started to fall quiet again when a loud thud rang out from behind them, cueing their rambling to start back up, but louder this time.

“Wait a minute...” you stated and they didn’t quiet. 

“Guys.” You started again but with no luck.

“Hey dipshits!” You yelled and they immediately ceased talking, freezing on the spot to look at you.

“Do you have someone in the sauna?” You questioned and they looked at each other before shaking their heads.

“Because it really sounds like you kidnapped someone and put them in the sauna. And I mean you guys have done some weird things, but that, that would take the cake.”

A harsh yell confirmed your statement, followed by another bang and a strained: “OPEN. THIS. DOOR.”

You froze, a chill inching its way down your spine. You didn’t want it to be true.

“Is that?” 

The kids scrambled to move away from the door and your suspicions were confirmed. 

Billy was locked in the sauna, sweat pouring from his forehead and his hair almost completely wet.

You pushed past them and almost fell into the door.

“Billy?” You whispered and he froze, standing completely still as he looked at you, his features having gone from murderous to easy and controlled.

His chest still heaved up and down, but his eyes were calm, focused on looking at you through the door. 

You could tell he was concentrating on you, as if he were having to truly focus to make sure you were there, standing in front of him. 

The kids scrambling behind you were making enough noise to wake the neighborhood.

“We’re almost at 220 Mike!” Will called and you pivoted on your heels, your new sneakers squeaking against the humid pavement in protest.

“Can someone please tell me why my boyfriend is locked in the sauna?” 

You yelled and Billy hit the glass behind you, making you jump and turn to face him.

He had stopped again, his hand still lingering on the glass pane.

“Please,” he whimpered, “you have to let me out sweetheart.” 

His voice was barely audible, and your heart broke as tears began to make their way down his face.

“Let him out now, Will.” 

You begged through gritted teeth, and Will slowly shook his head. 

None of the kids made a move to help, not even Max, who was holding back tears of her own.

“220!” Will, who was still standing at the thermostat, called from behind you. 

This prompted the kids to crowd around you so that they could look through the door and at Billy, who had fallen onto the floor and begun to writhe and turn colors. 

When he began screaming you finally understood what the kids were doing.

“Will, you can’t do this. You can’t know that’s what’s wrong with him.” You whispered quickly and Will just looked at you.

You remembered watching this happen to him, and how it had almost killed you then. You couldn’t possibly watch it be done to Billy, who had been through so much already.

“We have to,” he whispered back, “we have to know for sure.”

Tears began to prick your eyes as Billy cried out to Max, bargaining with her as he recoiled against the bench behind him.

“I’ve done things Max. Really... bad things. I didn’t want to. Please.”

His hands were clutched onto his chest, the floor, the bench he rested against, whatever he could grab and channel at least some of the pain into.

“I can’t watch this,” you whispered, barely audible. 

Billy turned to you, his hands held out in front of him as if he were reciting a prayer to you.

“(Y/N) please, you don’t understand. I have to get out of here. I can’t be here! I’ve done bad things.”

Tears freely flowed down your face now, and the kids had taken a few steps back.

“What,” you whisper as your forehead rests against the glass, “what have you done? I can help you Billy but you have to let me.”

The pain that showed so evidently on his face must have increased, as his back arched against the bench behind him and he yells in agony, this one chill inducing when compared to the playful groans he offered you so many weeks ago.

“He made me. I didn’t have a choice. Please, please sweetheart.”

Will is mumbling something behind you but you pay him no mind, a shaky gasp escaping your lips and fogging the glass as you close your eyes against the window, trying to already forget what you’ve seen.

“Who? Who made you?” 

You ask anyways, and he whimpers this time, moving amongst the shattered pieces of wall tiling, the scraping noise too loud for you to concentrate on how the wall became like that in the first place.

“(Y/N) you have to move!” 

“Get away from the door!”

The chorus of voices behind you cue you to turn your head in their direction, just in time for you to miss Billy swinging his knuckles into the glass window pane, shattering it on impact as pieces of it fly into your skin. 

You jump back, screaming as the kids scramble to pull you away from the door.

Billy easily pulls and breaks the metal chain holding the door in place, his movements fast as he makes his way to where you stand with your arms spread in front of the kids.

It isn’t a moment more when El steps up from behind you and begins to fight Billy, lifting him into the air as he seemingly turns colors again.

You, along with the other kids, are frozen, watching El and Billy scream and groan as they fight each other, the lights flickering so intensely you think you may faint.

El is clearly the most qualified to fight him, but even she can only do so much. It isn’t long before his strong hands are around her throat as he lifts her into the air like she were a rag doll.

As if he can read your mind, Will grabs your hand. 

You turn sharply to look at him, fear evident on his face. You shoot him a look of reassurance, the best one you can muster in the moment, and pull loose from his hand, charging Billy to try and deter his attention from El.

He blocks you easily, and you scramble to find something, anything, to help your situation. A loose dumbbell weight catches your eye and you lift it up, ready to throw it at him.

Before you can, Lucas has fired a piece of the wall from his wrist rocket, and it hits Billy hard enough to loosen his grip on El so that she can scramble to Mike.

As he turns to face Lucas, you see your opportunity and swing the weight, yelping when Billy stops it, one hand keeping the weight from falling out of your arms and onto him, and the other hand moving towards you, almost in slow motion. 

Your chest heaves up and down and his eyes connect with yours, everything still moving so painstakingly slow.

His eyes don’t look the same as they did earlier. 

Now, they are calculating and dilated, almost to the point that his blue eyes you admire so much have become lost to the black of his pupil. 

He isn’t seeing you, he is seeing an enemy who wishes him harm, someone that can’t continue to hold ill will against him.

When his free hand finally reaches you after what seems like an eternity, his hand occupying the weight has thrown it to the side so that his full attention is on you.

Normally, that is all you could ask. To have his undivided attention. 

Often times it is split into focusing on you and thinking about California and dodging his dad and driving his car and now that it is only on you, you want nothing more than for him to suddenly bring up a report on the school’s basketball team. 

Or to complain to you how much of a little shit Max is. 

Or to sing his favorite song off-key.

Instead, he lifts you up and throws you against the wall as if you were a child’s bouncy ball.

Your back collides harshly and you know you’ve broken a few bones as you fall to the floor below you. 

A pained whimper that echos from the back of your throat seems to catch Billy off guard, as his brow furrows down at you.

In his moment of hesitation, El has lifted him up and sent him careening through the brick wall and into the parking lot, where he saunters into the woods behind Hawkins pool, not even taking a moment to check his wounds.

The kids scramble to help you and El up, and you can’t do anything but angrily wipe at the tears and blood resting on your cheeks as you turn to the kids for answers.

“I don’t know what that was, but it sure as hell wasn’t my Billy. Now, I’m going to need someone to begin explaining what is going on right the hell now.”

[planetsam]

may i please request a fic where brenner comes back and hurts el

“What?” Mike says.

Eleven takes a deep breath, meeting his eyes steadily. He doesn’t look like he believes her and that is a whole other level of pain. He knows her well enough, she has to make him believe.

“I’m leaving,” she repeats, grasping at straws, “I don’t belong here.”

“Huh? Of course you do,” he says and she wants to scream.

“No, I don’t,” she says.

“El—“

“I never have,” she continues, “I never should have listened—never should have come back. This is wrong,” she emphasizes the last word, “you are just a kid,” she says, “I am more. You don’t get it.”

The confusion is starting to leave and hurt is replacing it. She can’t watch this, she can’t. It hurts too much. But she has to do this, she has to. For him. She licks her lips and picks up her bag, more out of habit than any actual use. She can’t even feel it. She definitely can’t look at her keychains.

“Goodbye,” she says curtly and runs, using her powers to delay him just enough. Not that they’re needed. He’s so surprised he doesn’t move. Just stays there with the picnic he made in the av room because it’s the anniversary of the Snow Ball. She scrubs at her cheeks as she runs, pausing only long enough to dump her bag in the trash can. She stumbles out into the cold and tries not to react when a hand falls on her shoulder, “thank you,”she says numbly.

Papa looks at her critically. Eleven knows he didn’t have to let her do that, he could have taken her. Could have hurt them like he hurt Mama. Eleven knows it was a test, it’s always a test with him, but she’s still grateful. She meets his gaze and he tilts her chin, his touch doesn’t register but her skin crawls all the same.

“Good girl,” Papa says, “let’s go.”

Eleven nods her consent meekly, fighting back the urge to rip them apart when he grips her wrist too tight. Every step hurts but it’s a hollow sort of hurt, one that echoes in the empty space in her chest. He steers her towards the car.

“El!”

Horror crashes through her. She broke up with him, she said everything right. She was good. Papa glares at her and his grip turns painful. She actually whimpers, finds herself tugging against him. Rage colors his face as he sees her pulling. No powers, just her slight figure struggling in the most human of ways.

“Get in the car,” he orders, “do you remember what I said? Get in or he’ll wind up like everyone else.”

The doors crash open as Mike stumbles out. A ragged gasp of relief leaves her, even though this is the most dangerous moment. He knows, though. He knows and she clings to that with everything she has. He stares at them and Eleven tugs harder.

“Stop that,” Papa scolds.

“Hey!” Mike’s voice is loud, angry. Eleven knows from the look in Papa’s eyes that this only has one way to end, “You son of a Bitch,” Mike snarls.

“Let me go!” she cries suddenly, “let me go!”

No powers is the rule, no powers is the only thing keeping them alive but it’s not going to matter. The delicate stuff has become harder as she’s gotten older, she keeps tugging and struggling as she reaches inside the school and finds what she’s looking for. Mentally apologizing to everyone, she slams down on the button as hard as she can.

The fire alarm splits the air.

“You stupid girl!” Papa roars and backhands her.

Her wrist cracks in the fall, she feels that. Her own yell of pain is lost to the chaos. She recognizes Mike’s hand on her and scrambles towards it, they both wind up staggering backwards into the crowd. Her eyes lock with Papa and he gives her a vicious look that’s edged with enough triumph to make her blood go cold. That’s when she realizes Mike is doubled over making sounds like she does when she has a panic attack.

“Mike!” she wails, gripping his arms and lowering him down, “Mike!”

“Mister Wheeler! Mister Wheeler I need you to talk to me, what’s happening?”

Eleven looks desperately at Mr. Clarke. He’s always been nice, he didn’t tell anyone even when he recognized her. She isn’t supposed to trust anyone but Mike is still wheezing.

“I think he got shot,” she whimpers. Mr. Clarke stares at her, “they pushed me and—“ she holds up her wrist, ignoring the lurch it makes her stomach do. Mr. Clarke goes pale.

“Someone call 911,” he roars sounding alarmingly like Papa, “and get the nurse!” He turns back to her, his face softening, “it’s going to be okay.”

“They were going to take me,” she says, “Mike stopped them,” she looks down in alarm at his lips and the wheezing sound, “he can’t breathe!” she cries.

“Help’s on the way,” he says, relief flooding him when the nurse runs over, “Dustin, Dustin! Take Miss Hopper—“

“No!” she cries.

“I wouldn’t move her,” Dustin begins, “lemme get–oh holy shit,” he says when he sees, “did he get shot?! Mike!” the others all shove their way forward at his yell. Eleven looks at them helplessly, hoping one of them will know what to do. “what are you—“ Dustin grabs her and hides her and a moment later Mike gasps loudly.

“Mike!” she cries, pulling back, “oh no–“ there’s a tube sticking out of his chest, "oh–”

“I’m okay,” he gasps, fumbling for her, “I’m okay, El, it’s okay.”

“No, no! You weren’t supposed to get hurt!”

They’ve done nothing wrong but rage blinds her anyway.  They hurt him, she hurt him. Mike’s eyes widen and he groped blindly for something but the pain is still on his face. She’s killed before, it will be so easy and when Papa comes back, she’ll kill him too. She’ll kill them all. Above the sound of the fire alarm the building makes a terrible wheezing sound, the support beams groaning as she twists them. Metal is always easier. It taste’s like the metal in her mouth. Like it’s a part of her. She squeezes tighter and tighter. Like it’s her being squeezed and twisted. Like it can’t move.

Like she can’t move.

“Let me go!” She roars twisting, “let me go–”

Her words are muffled as she finds herself twisted around, face pressed against a broad chest. She snarls and kicks, tries to get any kind of footing but there’s none. It’s like fighting against something sticky, whenever she tries to push it just gets harder, when she tries to lash out, something hits her with a bright shock of pain that she can’t get by. Its like fighting a wall and she hates hates hates it. Until she’s clinging to it, even though a part of it expects to be hurt by it anyway.

“Jonathan!”

The wall moves.

Nancy is watching them load Mike into the ambulance and motions for her. She runs forward. Before anyone can say anything Nancy hauls her into the back of it. The EMT’s slam the doors and it lurches to life. It’s cold in the back, but that doesn’t matter as she grabs Mike’s hand. He’s breathing but all of the machines seem to be wailing. Eleven doesn’t like the noise. She looks at Mike desperately.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt!” She cries, “you were supposed to stay inside.”

“You said you didn’t belong,” he says, “I knew you were lying.”

“But—“ her lip trembles and she remembers him wheezing, “Mike,” she says desperately. He shakes his head.

“I’m not just a kid,” he tells her, “I didn’t want to be either, not since we found you.”

She hiccups around a sob then, because when she found Mike was the first time she wanted to be one. She wanted to be pretty and go to the Snow Ball and have a normal bed.  Now everything feels ruined, Mike’s been hurt and her wrist is throbbing. And all she wanted to do was keep him safe. She doesn’t know why when she tries to do that, he’s always safe and always hurt. All at the same time.

“She broke her wrist,” Mike tells one of the EMTs. They look at her and she snatches the limb away, “let them look,” Mike says.

“But—“ she frowns, not liking the idea.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, “please let them.”

The EMT takes her wrist into her hand. They brace it but it still throbs. Which doesn’t matter as much as Mike having an oxygen mask put around his face. She lurches forward, wanting to help but not sure how she can. Mike catches her hand and holds it close, like that will do anything. When they get to the hospital she can’t even manage that and it unleashes a whole new torrent of tears.

When they let her see him again she wastes no time climbing into the bed with him and burying her face in his chest. Mike hugs her close. She can hear herself whimpering, because she doesn’t know what to say. How to say it. Papa made her but she still did what she did. And now they’re both hurt. But under her cheek she feels Mike humming quietly, his hand going through her hair as he does. She knows he’s making sure she knows he’s forgiving her and she wishes he wouldn’t even as she cries for it.

“You’re hurt,” she protests feebly, after far too long in his chest, even though he won’t let her pull away still, “Mike.”

“I’m gonna be fine,” he tells her. Her face contorts because he can’t promise that, “as long as you’re here,” he says, “I’ll be ok.”

“But—“

“No,” he cuts in, something sparking in his eyes even around the drugs they must have him on, “I want you, ok? I don’t care about the rest. I need you.”

Desperation laces his words and it cuts her. She knows that he’s being sincere, that he means it and she wishes that he didn’t. It’s terrifying in the exact opposite way of what Papa used to say. But that doesn’t make it less terrifying. It maybe makes it more. Because she stopped needing Papa a long time ago. She’s only grown to need Mike more.

“I need you too,” she whispers.