#honey you're familiar

[februaryfic]

A Steve Harrington x meta!Reader slowburn multichapter fic.

The reader in this is canonically chubby (because so is the author and we deserve rep goddamn it), a nerd, has a decent relationship with their parents, and didn't have a great time in high school. They are intended to be racially ambiguous, so if you're a reader of colour and you spot anything that takes you out of the fiction, PLEASE let me know and I would be happy to change it.

When you wake up in the world of your favourite tv show, at first it feels like a dream. But after a while it becomes more of a nightmare.

"You have to play the long game. You’re not playing checkers, you’re setting up a chessboard. How many of them will hate you once they know? That they are your pawns? You wouldn’t blame them."

Chapter One (AO3)

Chapter Two (AO3)

Chapter Three (AO3)

Chapter Four (AO3)

Chapter Five (AO3)

Chapter Six

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday!! Here's a snippet from Honey, you're familiar (like my mirror years ago) aka daddy issues fic. The Brownstone server already saw this :)

Thanks to @wordsofhoneydew @matherines @ships-to-sail @heybuddy-drabbles @anincompletelist @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @cultofsappho @ssmtskw @sherryvalli @kiwiana-writes for the tags, I've enjoyed reading all of y'all's snippets in my emails and I shall be spreading the love on them on tumblr when I have a real minute to go through them!!!! So many fun wips out there!!!!!

Two framed posters sit stacked in the corner, the first, a Claremont for Congress 2002 sign, the second, an Austin City Limits poster from the first and only time they attended as a family, when he was eleven. There’s other small doses of Claremont elsewhere in the apartment, too — the ugly lamp Ellen bought for her first apartment in the 80s in the living room, their grandma’s chest, serving as a window seat in every version of June’s room, originally built for her by her husband before he left for Vietnam. Maybe that’s why Alex feels such a sense of contentment when he finally finishes the headboard. Both his grandfathers were craftsmen, after all. They bent over their work bench using their hands, their skills, to provide for their families; a craft not as mystical as alchemy, but an act of creation, of transformation in its own right. Though a far cry from a carpenter’s sharp tools, something simmers in Alex’s blood when he picks up the tiny plastic jack provided by IKEA.

Tagging @myheartalivewrites @affectionatelyrs @zwiazdziarka @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @indomitable-love @saintlynomenclature @littlemisskittentoes @suseagull04 and I'm definitely missing people but I'm in a rush so open tag and tag me!!!

[evenlarksandkatydids]

something about lucy giving cooper the chems he needs to keep from going feral to show him that she'll never let the wasteland turn her into someone like him and cooper immediately afterward finding a copy of the anti-communist propaganda movie he was talked into doing despite his apprehensions. cooper looking into the past at the exact moment that started the gradual wearing away of his principles and put him on the path to becoming the man he is while lucy walks off defiantly, no i will not allow this place to change me, i may have to become harder, i may have to become violent, but i will hold true to the values that have shaped me.

[lazylittledragon]

something about beginnings

[luckyjak]

oh no, I like Jayce/Viktor because it's essentially a palette swap of Caleb/Essek. oh no

[gayforink]

WIP Wednesday: November 20th, 2024

Here are all my three sentences for my SFH WIPS. This was really fun!

honey, you're familiar: mjjw

Tagging: @kallisto-k, @somefishycat :)

A bridal dress for her all-seeing eyes, as though she doesn’t know the exact brutality of her decisions. 

She purses her lips, the sleeves of her robe curling up as she pushes them back. She pushes the photos aside, picking up the dress with sharp nails. Underneath them all lies the one thing that matters, the one thing that her boy really wanted her to see. 

In Seo Moonjo’s usual scrawl lies just two words, heavy with meaning. 

Proof, halmae. 

2. growing black irises: mjjw

Tagging: @zyrafowe-sny

It’s late now, the sky dark and polluted blue, but the heat lingers, wrapping around his skin from the moment he stepped outside. Moonjo–if it weren’t for the clammy warmth in his hands, Jongwoo would’ve thought he was an alien by the way he stood, unbothered by the heat of summer. He doesn’t know how Moonjo’s functioning in that sweater; Jongwoo would’ve walked outside naked before he wore a sweater like that one.

3. femslash mjjw

Tagging: @quietly-sleeping, @saiditallbefore

Finding a residence is easier said than done; the search is tedious and long. Jiwoo feigns smiles and appreciation at expensive cages; drinks bitter coffee and makes a clean exit when the subject of rent comes up. She had made a list before coming, but the list soon revealed itself to be a growing mountain of unaffordability. Sweat soaks the back of her t-shirt as Jiwoo pushes her suitcase in front of her after the fourth residence. She can smell it, the weight of her exhaustion.

Jieun still hasn’t called back. Jiwoo left multiple messages, but doubts if her estranged friend would see them. A familiar bitterness works its way into Jiwoo’s mind, scratching against her throat.

4. cut clean from the dream at night: jongwoo character study, implied mjjw

Tagging: @twyrewolf, @tamsinswriting, @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

He’d been a liar–that’s for sure–but he had not lied about this. 

Perhaps that was because 304 had never told Jongwoo about his house. (Or really, he might have–Jongwoo’s memory was hardly the one to trust.) A house that 304 had bought shortly before Jongwoo’s arrival in Seoul. Fairly close to his clinic; an apartment. Decently sized and expensive. The events at Eden had put all of 304’s possessions into focus; the clinic was boarded up, the apartment building as a whole gained a bad name. You don’t expect a friendly neighbourhood dentist to turn out to be a vicious murderer. Eden and 304 were the talk of the town for many of the months after.

[volivolition]

hello, skills lover extraordinaire here :] you can call me voli, chemi, or volta. im 24, i use he/him pronouns, im aroace and transmasc. big skills fan, my favorites are shivers, empathy, electrochemistry, and of course volition, but i love all of them so much. welcome to skill fixation central, population me.

my art tag is #voliart, my talking tag is #chemi chats, and my ask tag is #volta transmissions!! i prefer asks/replies more than DMs!!

may post suggestive or nsft stuff, will tag accordingly.

more tags and things under the cut!!

signature skill userbox made by euclydya, others by me

#ency ref - things i want to keep for some reason

#inland drabbles - my writing snippets

#suggestion recommendation - something someone has suggested to me, fics or games or songs!

#concepts canvas - things i want to draw eventually

#drama scripts - disco elysium canon text because it was filling up my ref tag lmao

#esprit: [x] - tags for mutuals and friends, their art or asks!

#savvy's styles - my very sparse fashion tag

And my fic tags, labeled as tasks!

#task: unstoppable force - The Unstoppable Force Kisses the Immovable Object, an volistry fic about them getting together.

#task: meet the parts - Meet the Parts that Make You, a kim-gets-introduced-to-the-skills fic

#task: let's make it a home - Let's Make It (a) Home, a skills fic set during martinaise as they rebuild a home together

#task: swept up - Swept Up in the Feeling, a empathy-centric skills fic as an excuse to do character studies and better understand each of the skills

#task: sunrise momentum - The Sunrise Momentum, a volition-centric fic about the Holy Vow of waking up at 7:30

#task: message please survive - known in my documents as Message to all Bitches: Please Survive, a look into the skills perspective during the martinaise blackout.

#task: who are you if not - Who Are You, If Not..., an esprit-centric fic about what happens to the RCM skill if Harry left the RCM

#task: furies at home in the gymnasium - The Furies are at Home in the Gymnasium, is a crack-fic focused on humanized teen skills who make up a bickering class of students who share Harry's fifth period gym class, and are trying to set up their coach with one Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

#task: when two skills love each other very much - Well, When Two Skills Love Each Other Very Much..., an accidental baby acquisition skill fic, focused on a fan skill named Solace. Volistry-centric, but all the skills are important.

Me!! :3

[stormyoceans]

vv brainrot continuation:

and again the hangover pill is a hangover karbonak

you're deeply and passionately in love (dude, did you lose your twin puen at birth?)

august’s interview reminded me so much of puen’s interview in ep12

day and talay "i don’t think anything about him, but i’ll come to him with a guitar to sing love songs to say how important he is to me" (day doesn’t have a guitar yet, but he behaves in such a way that he’ll now start singing love by paradox)

in all universes, seat belts are a source of great tension.

puen’s methods of influencing day and talay are the same (you don’t run with me bcs you think about me differently. who were you thinking about when i directed the scenes? about a guy named tun?)

bed scene (fandee na talay)

why are you smiling mork? (talay is your smile)

can you tell me about rung (p'peng, you can tell me about the life of tun)

smells (we've discussed this many times, but why not say it again)

cover your ears (idk it just reminded me of the childhood fuss of puentalay when they were filming a video message to joob)

you're doing this bcs of the car (the theme is “falling in pretend love to return to your universe”)

we're bf now (at least they didn't have to kiss 40 times before they verbally admitted it)

wedding (leave your drinking yogurt and bring a bag of chips or it's not canon). soft pink balloons (i'm already crying) i'm beaten out like a dusty carpet. how are you doing with brainrot, monica?

PINKYBRAAAAAIIIIIIIIIINNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU SENT ME THE BRAINROT FOR EP 6 AND I DIDN'T GET THE MESSAGE 😭😭😭 TUMBLR MEET ME IN THE PIT IM GONNA FIGHT YOU

i may have gotten a little bit worried ;;;;;; im so glad you're okay tho!!!!!!! and i know it's really annoying to write down something all-over again but if you ever felt like rewatching ep 6 and trying to send me a new brainrot, i'd love to read it!!!!! (but no pressure, of course!!!!)

ANYWAY. BACK TO THE CURRENT BRAINROT. 'BEATEN OUT LIKE A DUSTY CARPET' IS ACTUALLY A PERFECT DESCRIPTION OF HOW I FEEL ON A PSYCHOLOGICAL EMOTIONAL SPIRITUAL MENTAL AND PHYSICAL LEVEL AFTER THIS EPISODE. ESPECIALLY WHEN I THINK ABOUT THE PUENTALAY PARALLELS LIKE CAN YOU BELIEVE WE REALLY GOT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL ONE???????? INSANITY DERANGEMENT LUNACY MADNESS THEY'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE AND NOT EVEN P'AOF HIMSELF COULD CHANGE MY MIND

my brainrot pretty much looks like yours tbh, however the cover your ears scene immediately made me think about puentalay pinching each other's cheeks in ep 4

I JUST LOVE OUR SILLIES SO MUCH

also!!!!! kind of a reach, but the way the almost kiss at the end of this episode was framed reminded me very strongly of the puentalay one in ep 5

and both of them were interrupted, one by a phone call and one by. Pain.............

but honestly the dynamic between mork and day in this entire episode was so puentalay coded to me like the way mork was pursuing day while day played hard to get but you could still tell he was enjoying every second of it is just. it's puentalay. like idk what else to say it's THEM

THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE THEORY HAS NEVER BEEN MORE REAL

[thcsedorks]

if i were a ZOMBIE, i'd never eat your B R A I N

rules | evelyn | psd | promo ind. pri. sel. multimuse featuring a LEFT 4 DEAD OC, evelyn. originally est. 2013, revamped 2024, formerly zombieslain & electricwcrry

[artyphex]

Can you imagine how unhinged it would be if "From Eden" played in the credits for one of the episodes? I'm certain it won't happen but like. Can you imagine

[goldenvboots]

rb17 looks great

[februaryfic]

Honey, You're Familiar: Chapter Five (AO3) (Masterpost) (4194 Words)

A Steve Harrington x meta!Reader slowburn multichapter fic.

Summary: Hanging out with Nancy and Barb, a holiday party, and helping Hopper (against his will). A winter interlude between Seasons 1 and 2.

---

November

Only a few days after the hospital, after everything, Nancy invites you to hang with her and Barb. Why she invited you is still up for debate, but you were grateful that they seemed interested in being friendly with you.

The pair met you at the door and lead you up the stairs, immediately crowding into Nancy’s bedroom. Barb and Nancy immediately took their places sat on Nancy’s bed, looking at home. 

Nancy watches as you carefully close the door behind you and look around, wide eyed. You eventually perch on the foot of the bed, crossing your legs under you.

“I wanted to thank you,” Nancy starts, “for saving Mike, I mean. He told me what you did—” she glances at your shoulder, the bandages still peeking out from underneath your t-shirt, and grabs your hands. “—thank you.”

“Anyone would have done it,” you dismiss, feeling embarrassed from the attention, “I was just the one who was there.”

“I’m just really glad you were. There, I mean,” Nancy says. “I thought you should have come with us, to fight the monster. But you were right, Steve came.”

“He actually helped too, which is even more surprising.” Barb snipes with a grin, nudging Nancy with her foot,”

“I told you, he’s a nice guy! When he wants to be…” Nancy says, clearly trailing off when she remembers the marquee. 

“I’m still going to kill him for that, you know,” Barb says. “I was too busy trying to keep Jonathan from killing him that I never got a punch in.”

“I think Jonathan managed on his own, to be fair,” you joke, falling into the easy rhythm the girls have. “Maybe you should have gone for Tommy or Carol instead.”

“Oh my god, can you imagine Carol’s expression if you punched her in the face.” Nancy says gleefully.

“God them two are the worst. Maybe even worse than Steve.” Barb muses.

“He’s ditched them now, for what it’s worth,” you say, feeling some obligation to defend Steve’s honour. “I think he’ll be way better without them.”

“You think, or you know?” Nancy asks with a sly smile, making you duck your head.

“...I know.” you admit. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” Barb says with a giggle. “So, I’m supposed to be dead-” Nancy’s face falls, upset, but Barb continues, “-but what’s Nancy like in the future?”

“Barb, you can’t just say that.” Nancy protests.

“Who made you the time travel police?” Barb scoffs, but still bumps the other girl’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m okay with it, Nance, really. I’ve gotten longer than I did in the other universe, I’m gonna make the most of it!” 

Turning to you, she says: “So, spill- what’s future Nancy like?”

You hem and haw over the question. “I don’t really know if I should say anything about the future…”

“Why not?” Nancy asks.

“Because! If I tell you things, it could change the way you act, influence your behaviour or your feelings! I don’t want to mess anything up too badly.” You say.

“I doubt that-” 

“If I told you that, in the future, Mrs Byers goes on a killing spree and stabs a load of people-”

“Oh my god, does she?” Barb jumps in. 

“No! But that’s my point. It would change how you felt about her in the present.”

“But what if that information would help us?” Nancy asks. 

“Then I would tell you closer to the time. The same way I told everyone about taking the kiddie pool to the middle school.”

“Why do you get to decide when we know? Don’t you think that’s kind of unethical?” Nancy challenges. She really does make an excellent journalist.

Of course, Nancy manages to ask the question you’ve been battling with yourself over for the past 3 months. 

You hang your head. “Maybe. I’ve been asking myself the same question. Ultimately, low intervention is safer. If I don’t change too much, it means my foreknowledge stays accurate for longer, meaning it remains helpful. If I start making too many changes, then maybe I change what happens completely, and we’re all left facing an unknown threat. I don’t want to take that chance.”

“But weren’t we facing unknown threats the first time?” Barb asks, “In your universe?”

“And look how that turned out!” you say, “You died in that universe. There’s other deaths, other traumas that happen in the future that I want to try and prevent too. But I can’t do that if my information isn’t accurate.”

“Meaning that you can’t change too much now.” Nancy finishes your thought. 

“Exactly.” you reply. 

The cheery, pink bedroom falls silent under the weight of your conversation for several moments. 

Barb groans. “Okay! Enough scary future talk! Nancy, what are you getting Steve for his birthday?”

“It’s his birthday soon?” you ask. Very few birthdays were ever confirmed in the series, so this is news to you.

“Yeah, the 20th, next Sunday,” Nancy confirms. “I got him a new jacket I know he’s been wanting, and we’re going to a nice dinner.”

“Gross.” Barb says, clearly just to make Nancy roll her eyes. 

“You should get him flowers.” you suggest.

“Really? But he’s a guy.” Nancy says.

“Exactly! No one ever gets guys flowers, it would be cute,” you say. 

Now, you wouldn’t admit it, even under torture, but there was maybe a teeny tiny, infintesimally small, itsy-bitsy part of you that had a crush on Steve. 

You couldn’t help it, okay? The nice hair and the kind smile, the loyalty and bravery, even the hilariously bitchy side comments he would make. You always had a crush on him in the show, and it had only gotten worse since landing in Hawkins. 

A TV show just couldn’t portray the full truth of a person, and the small glimpses of the real Steve you’ve seen since arriving here were even more enrapturing than the character on the show. You never knew the full warmth of his smile, how it feels to make him laugh, the depths of his emotional intelligence. All hinted at, but now you’ve seen them in person. And you can’t help but want more. 

But he and Nancy were still very much together at this point in the timeline, and despite knowing how it will end, you won’t be a homewrecker. Besides, just because you had a crush on him, that doesn’t mean he would ever have one on you. You’re just not the type of girl who gets crushed on by guys like that. You’re the funny best friend, or the helpful guide, or the shoulder to cry on. But not the romantic interest. Never that. 

So, you trample your feelings beneath your metaphorical boot, and give Nancy what you hope is good advice. You might not be able to ever date him, but you could at least try to make him happy from the sidelines. 

—

If you happen to drive round to Loch Nora in your new car (freshly bought with government hush money) on November 20th, leaving a neatly wrapped box of cookies and a card on Steve’s doorstep, then nobody needed to know. 

—

December

A few days after Christmas, Joyce invites everyone over for a joint holiday/’we survived’ party. In the last month, with Will back in her arms, she had forgiven you for your secrecy, after making you swear that you would continue to use your knowledge to help keep everyone safe.

The Byers’ house is decorated top to bottom in festive paraphernalia. Tinsel surrounds each window, a wicker reindeer on the porch, and a wreath on the door. Warmth pours from every window, fighting against the blue chill of the frost outside, and the sounds of chatter emanate through the walls. 

As soon as you step through the front door you are hit with a wall of noise. The kids were hollering at Will as he fought off a wave of enemies in Space Invaders, his new Atari already hooked up to the TV. Nancy and Steve were cuddled on the couch, while Barb sat close by with a mug of hot cocoa. You laugh as you spot the ‘we survived!’ banner hung over the couch, the only departure from festive cheer. Meanwhile, Joyce was in the kitchen with Jonathan as he frantically tried to save a tray of roast potatoes from burning. 

It felt like a family. 

You tug your muddy boots off and toss them on the growing pile of shoes by the door, heading into the kitchen. 

“Need any help?” you ask, setting down the food you brought from home onto the table. The last time you cooked for the Byers, it was to help them through grief. Now, you get to celebrate with them. 

“Oh, Y/n, sweetie, you didn’t have to bring anything!” Joyce says, sweeping round to grab you in a hug. 

“Didn’t she?” Jonathan asks sardonically, looking down at the smoking pan in his hand. 

You make uneasy eye contact with the boy. Jonathan has been tense with you since finding out that you knew Will was going to be taken, and you don’t blame him. You had befriended them both, smiled and chatted, and did nothing to stop his kid brother from being taken. All for what? The long game? Of course he feels betrayed. He gives you a strained smile. 

“Why don’t you help me with the dessert?” he asks. A peace offering. 

The two of you work in careful silence, eventually chasing Joyce out of the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa once Hopper arrives, encouraging them to chat. 

“Do you ever want to talk about it?” you ask quietly.

He sighs. “Not really.”

“It’s alright if you’re mad at me, y’know.”

“Good. I am.”

“Okay.”

He sighs again, wiping his hands off on a dishcloth and leaning against the counter. “I get why you did it. Alright? And Will’s here, and he’s safe, so it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“But you’re still mad at me.” you say, understanding.

“Yeah. I am.”

“That’s fair.” 

The two of you slip back into quiet, working around each other to prepare the meal for everyone. 

“Hey! Jonathan, why didn’t you tell me Y/n was here?” Will whines, having come through to the kitchen to grab more snacks before dinner. 

“It’s not as if I snuck in here, kiddo.” you laugh, grateful at least one Byers sibling wasn’t pissed at you. 

“Have you seen my new Atari? It has Space Invaders and Pitfall on it!,” he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you through to the living room. The other 3 boys give you big smiles as they spot you.

“Wow, I guess you guys won’t need to ‘borrow’ my quarters at the arcade anymore, seeing as you have games at home, huh?” you tease.

It has the intended affect, all four boys immediately protesting and coming up with reasons why should definitely keep giving them your change. 

—

You eventually extricate yourself from the group of tweens (after a solid 30 minutes of playing through some difficult levels for them) and find yourself at the kitchen table with people your own age. 

“-flickered, and it was probably just because they’re old, but it still freaked me out.” Nancy was saying, the others listening quietly.

You pull up a chair, Barb sliding a mug of cocoa over to you. “We’re talking about how all our heads are messed up now, wanna join?” she asks with a wry, bittersweet smile. 

“She’s probably worse than the rest of us, knowing the future, right?” Jonathan says. They all turn to you.

“I guess? It doesn’t feel real until it’s happening though. Most of the time I’m just stressed, trying to plan for stuff that will happen years from now.”

“So this will keep happening?” Nancy asks, sadly.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that you know it will repeat,”

Your confirmation quiets the table, each teen reckoning with the dangerous lives they will keep being forced to live. Jonathan screws his eyes shut and ducks his head, as he usually does when trying to hide strong emotions. Nancy leans into Steve’s arms for comfort, and he holds her tightly. Barb, meanwhile, looks at you, assessing your reaction. Your shoulders are slightly hunched and you keep playing with the hem of your sweater. Guilt. 

“I think it’s better. I wouldn’t want to have false hope, you know?” she says.

“I wish we could just be normal again.” Steve says quietly, eliciting a round of nods around the table.

“But would we ever be normal after this anyway?” Nancy responds, “I want to be prepared for when it happens again, I don’t want to let it go.”

Uh oh, this is essentially the argument that breaks them up in the show. Don’t be a homewrecker, don’t be a homewrecker. “I guess the future knowledge works out well then, right?” you say, trying to find a compromise for them, “You know you get to let it go and be normal until at least next fall.”

“You’re not relaxing, though,” Nancy points out. “You keep planning stuff with Chief Hopper, right? I’ve heard you arguing.”

Damn, caught. You sigh, “Sure, but I’m a special case. When you fall into the world of a TV show, then you can be the one who gets to constantly plan and agonise over the future, okay?”

Nancy chuckles at that. 

“I still don’t get it. How can we be a TV show if we’re real?” Steve asks.

You get a truly mischievous thought. You lean over your shoulder and shout into the living room: “Hey boys? Who wants to explain parallel universes to Steve?”

A horde of sci-fi loving pre-pubescents careen into the kitchen, Dustin managing to get to the front, naturally. You can’t help but laugh at the overwhelmed expression on everyone’s face as the kids leap into an explanation, all talking over each other.

—

The (incredibly detailed, exorbitantly long) lecture on the nature of parallel universes is cut short by a kitchen timer going off and Joyce calling everyone for dinner. You, Jonathan, and surprisingly Steve all end up helping, grabbing dishes and laying them out on the table. 

Every household brought something, on top of Joyce’s already large menu, so the table is packed with plates and tureens, all holding something warm and delicious. The atmosphere stays jovial, nearly descending into outright chaos when Lucas accidentally splashes Mike with gravy, almost provoking aggressive retribution. Mike is talked down by Nancy and assigned to washing up duty for his behaviour, quickly followed by Lucas who is assigned to help after immediately laughing and teasing him about it. 

These boys…

Its been too damn long since you’ve had a family dinner, and it’s the palpable fondness in your heart that causes you to volunteer to ‘supervise’ the two. If you end up helping them a little with drying the dishes, nobody needs to know. 

Mike stays exceedingly polite and kind to you the entire night, not letting you help with his chores, offering you cookies. Sure, he’s a good kid, but not this good. Eventually, once the table is cleared, you chase Lucas off into the living room and push Mike into a dining room chair. 

“What is this?” you ask, pulling another chair out so you can sit across from him. 

“W-what do you mean?” he asks. His face is the picture of innocence, but the top of his ears turn red in a blush. Gotcha. 

“Pretty sure Christmas has already passed, Kiddo, so I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to get on the nice list,” you say, eyebrows raised.

He shuffles in his chair awkwardly, kicking his feet and wringing his hands. He goes to say something, then aborts and ducks his head. He tries again, but it just turns into a frustrated sigh. 

“Mike? Are you-”

The breath gets pushed out of you as the boy jumps up from his chair and grabs you in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mutters. He’s in an awkward crouch trying to reach you on the chair, so you stand up and turn it into a proper hug.

“For what happened at the…” you trail off, letting him fill in the blanks if he’s comfortable.

“At the school. You got hurt because of me and I’m sorry.” he sounds tearful.

“Mike, that was not your fault, I need you to know that. The only person who’s fault it is, is that asshole agent with the gun.”

He smiles a little at your bad language, which was your intention. Still, his lip trembles. “You still got hurt.”

“Wouldn’t you get hurt to protect your friends?” you ask, “I distinctly recall someone jumping off a quarry to help Dustin.”

“Hey, you weren’t there!”

“I know everything, kiddo, come on.” you tease. “Not that I’m suggesting that you continue to jump off quarries, but… we all do things to protect our friends, right?”

“Right,” he affirms, eyes still shiny, but looking happier. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now hey—” you pull out of the hug, taking him by the shoulders, “No crying on Christmas.” you order, dropping your face into a faux-serious expression.

“It’s December 27th.” he retorts, giggling a little.

“Still a Christmas party, smartass. That counts as Christmas!” you respond. “Go tidy yourself up, I know you won’t want your friends to know you have feelings or anything like that.”

“Yeah, gross,” he plays along, now with a full smile on his face.  

—

JANUARY

You trail Hopper’s car in your own as you both drive alongside the forest, eventually pulling off into a side road that would keep your cars hidden by the trees. 

“You going to insist on coming every time?” Hopper calls to you as he closes his car door. 

“Sure am!” you call back with a smirk, grabbing your bag from your trunk and catching up to him. 

You both make your way deeper into the forest, boots crunching into frosted leaves and frozen mud. You nestle deeper into your coat, grateful for your layers to fight off the early January chill. The sky is beginning to darken, the setting sun painting the sky a rapidly darkening periwinkle.

Hopper leads you both in a circuitous route through the trees, occasionally doubling back to make a false trail, or snapping areas of brambles to make them look trampled. Maybe he’s right to be so paranoid, though the show never touched on it too much. 

Eventually, you approach the wooden supply box the two of you stock. Hopper pulls out an insulated tupperware of food, while you pull a waterproof, thermal blanket from your bag. 

“Isn’t it your turn for a note?” Hopper asks, noting the absence of one.

You nod, briefly unzipping your coat and pulling the letter out of your inner pocket. “Didn’t want it to get too creased,”

The two of you place your offerings into the box, your note placed carefully on top. The notes have to be carefully written so that they don’t reveal any secrets, in case someone other than El finds them. Still, you try to encode little hints as to where she might be able to find a warm place to stay, in the hopes that the girl doesn’t have to spend too many nights out in the cold. 

The two of you close and secure the box, and continue to your next location, the cabin. Again, Hopper creates false trails and branching paths, but you eventually end up on its doorstep. 

You both enter carefully, watching for any signs of life or habitation. Hopper quietly calls out El’s name, but no one reveals themself. She hasn’t come here yet. 

“You sure you don’t know when?” Hopper asks, as if you haven’t told him the same answer every time he does.

“No, Hop, I still don’t know when she arrives. I don’t even know how. The show just showed you putting food out for her, and then her living here with you, as I’ve said.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man brushes off your exasperation. 

The two of you take off your layers and get to work, each returning to jobs. You’ve both been renovating the cabin each time you come, with Hopper fixing broken beams and replacing windows, while you hammer in new floorboards and screw together furniture. It’s tedious work, but the once run-down cabin is now well-insulated and something close to homey. 

Right now, Hopper is under the sink, trying to get the water mains to work, while you’re in what will eventually become El’s bedroom. 

You had picked out a warm pink rug to cover the floor, as well as a bedspread with sunny yellow flowers on it. After so many years living in a white, monotonous lab, you wanted to give her colour. 

The furniture was all old, sturdy wood, made back when Hopper’s grandfather owned the place, and you’d spent several visits sanding it down and varnishing it fresh. You had painted little flowers on the bed frame, and it been furnished with a new mattress on it that Hopper had bought during the christmas sales. It looked like a bedroom perfect for any tween girl.

You left the bed sheets folded up in the closet so they wouldn’t get dusty, though you left a blanket out on the mattress in case El arrived to sleep here unexpectedly. 

You had all but forced Hopper to let you in on his plans with El. He was reticent, but eventually showed you where the cabin was and where he had been leaving food. The two of you have been planning (and arguing over) how to help Eleven ever since.

You’ve disagreed on a lot. After a month of constant bickering, you eventually convinced him to let you tell those ‘in the know’ that El was alive, and that she would be back, eventually. He wasn’t happy about this, but you hope that by doing so, you will prevent Mike from trying to fist-fight him once he knows Hop kept El away from him. 

Hopefully. 

You argued about your own involvement too, with you all but demanding to have regular visits with El once she was found. He had tried to convince you to let him handle it alone, for increased security, but you refused to let up. Eventually it was your description of El going stir crazy with only him to talk to that did it, in the hopes that it would make the girl less rebellious and antsy if she had a friend who could visit.

You just hoped she would find her way to you both soon. 

—

February

You finally get the phone call on a drizzly friday morning, the ringing waking you up in an eerie replication of your first day in Hawkins. You pick it up, and hear the six words you’ve been waiting on for months.

“It’s Hopper. It happened. Get here,”

You fake terrible food poisoning and call out of work, narrowly avoiding speeding on your way over to the forest. You hide your car in the trees and begin your trek to the cabin, only just managing to not slam the door open in your excitement, but entering to a standoff. Hopper on one side of the living room, El on the other, each watching the other tensely. 

“El!” you call to her, breaking her focus on staring down Hopper.

“Real?” she asks. She doesn’t seem distressed, but is also clearly a little overwhelmed, twitching her fingers and rocking back and forth on her heels.

“This is real, kiddo. Have you been getting our notes? We’ve been trying to make this place safe for you to live,” you say, approaching her slowly. 

She’s wearing a coat that Hopper had bought for her back in November, and the pair of children’s gloves you had offered her the first night you met, all those months ago. Some of the first things put in the supplies box. She reaches into the pocket of the coat and pulls out a sheaf of battered and crinkled letters, the notes the two of you had been writing her. 

“Safe?” she says, in a mixture of wonder and suspicion. 

You’re close enough to her now that you could touch her shoulder, though you don’t, in case it scares her. You instead place yourself in between Hopper and El, breaking her sightline of him. He means well, but he can be an intimidating figure without intending to be sometimes. 

The girl closes the distance between the two of you with a single step and looks at you awkwardly. You know exactly what she means this time. 

You wrap your arms around her in a hug, and feel her shoulders shake as she begins to cry, decompressing from the past few months she’s had. You let her cry it out for a few minutes, Hopper idling awkwardly behind you both, before leading her over to the sofa.

“How about you get us all something to eat, Hop?” you say, trying set everyone at ease. 

He puts some eggos in the toaster. 

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

WIP Wednesday

Coming in a little late this evening, here to share a snippet I actually wrote earlier this afternoon for Honey, you're familiar (like my mirrors years ago), aka Daddy Issues: the dads storyline swapalooza.

“Those of us who live in this building chose to live here because we value our privacy,” Henry states, still avoiding direct eye contact with Alex. “And—” And Alex cuts him off, not willing to be lectured a second longer. “Us fucking too, Prince Charming. Just because we didn’t grow up with live updates of our every move since birth doesn’t mean June and I aren’t aware of the shitty moves the paparazzi and reporters and whoever else try to pull.” Henry opens his mouth to respond, looking half-annoyed, half-confused. But Alex isn’t done. “We visited my dad’s memorial for his birthday, and it turned into a whole fucking news story that my mom didn’t come with us. So excuse me if I don’t have the time or energy to be lectured like I don’t know what I’m talking about, because I fucking do.” When the elevators open, Alex lets the guards exit first, then he turns to Henry, who seems to have been stunned into silence. “In case your inbreeding didn’t give you enough brain cells to follow that: June and I appreciate our privacy too. So you’re welcome to fuck right off.” With that, he pushes the dolly out after Cash, not giving Henry a second glance.

Thanks to @ships-to-sail @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist @heybuddy-drabbles @14carrotghoul @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlemisskittentoes @sherryvalli @leaves-of-laurelin @kiwiana-writes for Wednesday tags (your snippets are so fun, will be liking and sharing soon) and @rockyroadkylers and val for the last line tag-this also happens to be the last line I wrote)!

Sorry if I missed someone who already posted, this is my first time on tumblr all day, would love to see what y'all are up to: @cultofsappho @xthelastknownsurvivorx @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @everwitch-magiks @affectionatelyrs @read-and-write- @tintagel-or-cockleshells @daisymae-12 @indomitable-love and anyone else I'm forgetting!!! Tag me so I can see :)

[iwaasfairy]

Can you do some degenerate father kaiser hcs...fem reader if possible

🙏🏻

maybe i would (i do wanna write more bllk) but ,,, i'd appreciate it if you read my (and other writers') rules before asking, because i don't do headcanons and i always write fem readers,,,

and like i answered an ask just earlier,, i'm backed up on writing with kinktober

[novelresilience]

@armyissued continued

[ txt: Billy ]: I'm okay, I'll be home soon.

She types the last message, sending it off before placing her phone aside and starting her drive.

"Hey," She starts once she's at last entered her apartment, giving him a weak smile. The shirt she'd left wearing that morning was trashed, and instead, she dons one from Blue Umbrella that she can't wait to get out of. For now, Rebecca crosses the room and moves to sit down on the couch as well. The movement causes her to wince, her back a mess of stitched punctures wounds and lacerations from the glass. "The virologist I met with already treated my wounds for me. Someone released a Tyrant on us in the lab. I guess I'm going to be taking an easy here with you for the next week or two until the stitches are out."

[xthestormcrow]

Sylva did not learn how to read until she was like ten. After being taken in by the Crows, they focused primarily on fighting and her magic. Reading and writing came second/third. Even now, twelve years later, she struggles to read. She fakes it spectacularly, but she struggles with big words (especially ones she has never heard spoken before or ones where the sound doesn't align well with how it looks — silent letters are the bane of her existence). She does not like being called out on not knowing how to read. She will get defensive as fuck before storming off. Honestly, she's embarrassed. I lowkey think she also might have dyslexia, which is why she struggles with it so much. Well, that and her learning much later in life. With this said, she can speak common/trade tongue, Elvhen (what is known, anyway), and Antivan. Just don't ask her to read anything. (or do because that will be fun pft).