#ignore this pls im just going to ramble
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ratsicleice · 9 months ago
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SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 9!!!
Dude, this episode of xmen was so heartbreaking, and I loved every moment of it. Like, first of all, ROGUE WEARING GAMBITS COAT WAS SO SAD LIKE DUDE. Her dealing with grief is so depressing, and it fr made me want to sob like a wet cat.
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LOOK AT HER :(((
Another thing is that Magneto and Xavier arguing like a married couple was INSANE. Especially with the part with him saying "Shut up" was crazy ☠️☠️
Anyways, please pay for my therapy bills marvel, I'm begging you.
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potatobugz · 1 year ago
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*leans against door seductively* does anyone have any tips on what to do when its hard + uncomfortable to breathe and ur heart is beating faster than normal to the point where its hard to focus on anything else
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thatlovelydove · 2 months ago
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its so annoying when you like a character but hate the way fans treat them
like when im actually reading them in the source material I love them so much thats my boi my baby my little guy
but as soon as im on tumblr they suddenly become the most insufferable character on the planet
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dinosauring130 · 5 months ago
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You know you have a problem when you start RELATING to the song Waving Through A Window
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maraudersmoooon · 4 months ago
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chat how do I let go of the horrors?
chat how do I accept the fact that my life does not have to be hard? that I can have everything at the palm of my hand if only I dare to forgive myself for wanting it in the first place?
tbh I think we just have to accept the fact that there are horrible things that happened to us. yeah those things shouldn't have happened, but they did.
they did happen.
and honestly you just have to unlearn thinking you deserve it. if you relate to anything I'm writing right now I want you to know something.
it's okay. it's okay to want more. it's okay to be so scared of everything being okay because you're worried it'll all just fall apart again. it won't. but the key is, you gotta open up bud. you can't have all of this wonder and all of this magic within yourself and not do anything with it, otherwise why go through all this effort at all?
it's okay if you loved the people that hurt you. that just means you're capable of that kind of unconditional love. now you just gotta put it in the right place, and put it right back on yourself.
you've got this. there's nothing to be afraid of anymore - everything is going to be okay. I promise.
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im-smart-i-swear · 1 year ago
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Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?
when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol
For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/
i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........
uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).
#ask#thank you for this ask!! it made me think more in depth about jiros abilities and come up with this so thanks<33333#if you have any ideas pls share them with me cause im still not really 100% set on everything lol#also im making a new tag for this au ->#two disasters au#bc. theres two of them.. and theyre both Mentally Unwell#also im gonna use this ask as an excuse to ramble about jiros motivation and character a bit-#okay. so i feel like the most importrant things about jiro are her tunnel vision and self-rightiousness#she gets really focused on one thing at a time and then fixates on it so much that she doesnt see how her behavior affects others#so when she gets evicted from her own body her first reaction isnt 'oh god this is such a messed up and dehumanizing thing to do to your#friend. what the FUCK guys'#its instead 'oh COME ON how am i supposed to be the black paladin without a physical body??? what the FUCK guys'#and bc deep down she KNOWS that if she ever stopped and thought about her situation for like 5 seconds shed just fuckin BREAK. so. she#doesnt do that.#and bc her self worth hinges on being the black paladin#she is really protective of tha title and tries her hardest to make sure shiro knows just how much better at paladin-ing she is than him#and that he wouldnt be able to keep the role without her help#she doesnt have any sense of personhood besides her job and so she clings to it desperately#the same applies to her gender#when jiro gets a new body(did i mention that???? i feel like i forgot to mention that. whoopsie???) he#(sometimes im gonna use he/him for jiro for when im showing things from a certain characters perspective cause thats what pronouns#she was using at the time)(if thats not okay i can stop tho) was trying very hard to pretend that hes just Shiro No. 2 and nothing more#to kinda 'make things easier for everyone' and bc he could FEEL the gender crisis approaching and was just. dead set on ignoring it and#hoping those feelings would go away(spoiler- they very much didnt. it just made things so so much Worse)#so anyway. basically jiro is a person obsesed with being Good Enough and respected but also lacks the experience patience and foresight#wnich results in her ignoring everyone and everything else to focus on doing her job Correctly#does this makes sense?? im still figuring shit out with her but thats what ive got rn
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iesuroo · 3 months ago
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The idea of going to family thanksgiving in a few days sounds so exhausting! I spent most of the day sitting on the couch looking at the wall zoning out hardcore. And like with his family when I've shown any discomfort with being pregnant they sit there silent and awkward and don't interact with me and make me feel stupid and I've been in so much pain 24/7 so it feels like I'll have to mask like crazy if I don't want to cry from that experience. Let's be honest though I'll probably cry.
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your-average-gay-dork · 7 months ago
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Pls don’t tell me you can see a future with me unless you absolutely mean it. Don’t tell me unless you feel that shit in your chest.
#PLEASE#i will take it and RUN w it#to me thats a greenlight to go ahead w my feelings bc like. i want that future w you and you just confirmed you could want it too#and thats the difference#you *could* want it#i already did#im all in w someone as soon as i cant stop checking my phone for you#so PLS#for the love of fucking god dont tell me that gay shit unless you mean it#dont tell me you can see it until you DO#dont tell me you want it until you crave it#AND FUCKING OH MY GOD THE NEXT TIME I TRY SAY I CAN HANDLE SOMETHING CASUAL SOMEONE PLS RUN ME OVER W UR CAR#PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY THERE IS NOTHING IN MY BONES THAT CAN HANDLE CASUAL#i can be hot and say hot things and i will fucking MEAN them#but on the other side im gonna be thinking ab laying in bed w you in my arms and holding your hands and playing w your fingers 😫#i was so fucking downbad oh my god#i wanted to rub ur back when it hurt and keep you safe from the scaries. i wanted to feel safe for you 🥺#and like i still want that and i will be friends bc i really fucking like you and who you have shown me you are as a person#but just know if i was ever given the opportunity i’d absolutely try to sweet you off your feet and give you everything you deserve and more#🥺🫠🫠#i fucking hate it#this is queued#so if you see it ignore it. i just had to get it out bc goddamn. this hurts way more than it should. and i fucking hate that ab myself#dw im actively tryna switch my mindset 🤪 maybe im cured by the time this posts (i wont be)#idk if i’ll ever get over you man. you’re something special#:/#mine#thoughts and rambles
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dangoulains-devotion · 11 months ago
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every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite
#rebirth literally said in bold letters he has multiple feelings. like humans do#and yet in the year 2024 i am still forced to see 'this ship was canon since 1997 unlike the other one'#do you have a brain that you use#are you capable of actually delving into the details of a character#without reducing them to barbie dolls that get smacked off one another#i just want to look at cool fanart man#dont even get me STARTED on how zack slots into all this#my boy has not haunted the narrative for you to go and ignore character developments like this#this is all coming out more blunt than i would normally try to write things#but brother i am so tired#i could write a whole post on how it is very real and normal for humans to feel affection for more than 1 person#and how it manifests in cloud and the whys#if the game itself is somehow not clear enough to you then you are simply choosing to close your eyes at that point#trying to act superior and objective about your ship while ignoring the material you claim to have gotten your Objective Facts™ from...#good gravy.#shipping is supposed to be a fun thing secondary to enjoying the content#not a primary objective to use it to argue with people#i would say peace and love on planet gaia but im sure some people would read it as peace and you can only love one person at a time forever#on planet gaia. haha.#anyway...... now that that's out my system i can be at peace again#shout out 2 my fellow multishippers who take this bountiful wealth of content and have fun with it#i think im gonna replay rebirth's story soon#want to see how much more i can pick out about new/updated approaches to characterization#rocket town will be very interesting in part 3 i think#yuffie too with wutai supposedly becoming a much more fleshed out thing#if this post somehow breaches containment:#if your first thought is to um actually me and whip out 'evidence'. i am not going to give you rhe time of day#because my rambling clearly went over your head and im not interested in 1sided discussion where i am being talked at rather than to#anyway have fun stop wasting time arguing and pls look forward to remake part 3 where i lose my mind over vincents waist. again#look what you did you raised my blood pressure enough to hit the tag limit. anyway peace and love on planet g-
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edgybutnotveryedgy · 1 year ago
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luckylzclerc · 25 days ago
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A Thousand Miles 𓍢ִ໋🏁՞ᰔᩚ (cl16)
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sypnosis : Due to your different careers, You both have been in a long distance relationship for quite some time. Charles has been nothing but supportive of you and got himself into a habit of mentioning you nonstop in interviews which sparks the attention from the media.
request : yes! from this request ₊˚.༄
AU : Mixed AU (smau + written au)
genre : fluff
an : first post since 2023 ! I changed my layout and tried to be more aesthetic (kinda..) lmk your thoughts on that! anyway, i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed making it hehe :3 pls don't be shy to request, I'll definitely try to answer them all 💌 anyways, have fun reading this and don't forget to like, comment and reblog!
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yourusername posted .ᐟ
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liked by charles_leclerc , lilymhe and 160k others
yourusername home 🫂🎞️🍝
view 150 comments ↓
charles_leclerc mon cœur, i miss you
⤷ yourusername ahh Charles, tu me manques aussi bebe
(i miss you too bebe)
lando we miss you here, y/n! 😔
⤷ yourusername landooo!! missing you guys too💘💘
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
The paddock is buzzing with excitement as fans from all over the world arrive to watch the 2025 Imola gp. Meanwhile, in the Ferrari garage, Charles is on the phone with his lovely girl, y/n.
"Charles, isn't qualifying starting soon?" asked the girl, interrupting her boyfriends ramble about an inchident that happened the night before. "Huh? shit! it's starting in 20 minutes!" replied the monegasque frantically while quickly gathering all his stuff.
Confused, she raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to end the call, or do you want me to do it?". Charles' panicked face contorts into a pout "Do we really have to end the call?" he asked with a soft tone. On the other end of the line, y/n chuckled "yes, yes have to mon amor. I'll talk to you later yeah? Promise me you'll do your best okay?, good luck". He smiles softly at her "Promise, je t'aime" while clicking the 'end call' button. All he could do now is just hope for the best as he wants to get pole to make her proud.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
"POLE POSITION BABYYY" echoes through the entire paddock as Charles crossed the finishing line with the fastest time amongst all 19 drivers. As the crowd errupt with cheers from the tifosi(s), Charles makes his way to the post qualifying interviews.
interview .ᐟ
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still feeling giddy, Charles decides to call y/n to tell her about the qualifying even though she was probably watching the entire time. *ring ring ring* -voicemail "huh?" confused as he can be, he started worrying about the sudden voicemail so, he called her again. twice. thrice. no answer. 'What is she up to?' Charles thought to himself.
Without any warning, Carlos barged into his room to congratulate his teammate. Noticing the monegasque's unhappy face "Carino, you okay ?" asked Carlos with a careful tone. "Yeah, im alright, its just y/n. She's not picking up my calls!". Understanding the situation, the spaniard comforted his teammate "Ah, maybe her device died or, I don't know? She took a nap or something.. theres endless possibilities, don't worry about it too much."
Nodding, "Maybe you're right.. thanks mate" "No problem!Now time to celebrate!!" Still full of adrenaline from the pole position but not feeling like celebrating, he decided to just head back to the hotel to rest "You celebrate, I'm going back to the hotel" said the monegasque. Walking to his car, he thought to himself 'Maybe she's asleep, I'll just call her again when i get back to the hotel' while trying to ignore the constant feeling of worry.
twitter .ᐟ
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As upon his arrival at the hotel, Charles still couldn't shake the feeling of a pit forming in his stomach so, after reaching to his assigned room, he quickly calls y/n again.*ring ring ring*
"Y/n are you there?" furrowing his brows while trying to make sense the black screen on his phone. "Charles! Congratulations on the pole, I'm so proud of you, knew you could do it!" said y/n with excitement filling her tone. Charles commented "Thank you! amor, I don't know if its my phone but I cannot see your face". A few moment of silence passed and Charles keep hearing commotion on the other end of the line.. "bebe? are you there? are you out right now..?". Finally, the girl answered short and sweetly "Sorry, got to go, talk to you tomorrow amor! bisous" and the call went dead.
Now he's even more confused. While trying to decide wether to investigate or not, tiredness washes over him. Finally deciding to ignore the paranoid feeling, Charles decides to get ready for bed and bother the girl with more questions the following day.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
As Charles wakes up at the crack of dawn, all his worries about y/n seems to disappear and he decides to just focus on his race today. While getting ready, he receives a notification on imessage from her wishing him luck on todays race, and that alone is enough to make him smile from the words of encouragement.
As soon as he arrives at the circuit, Charles was quickly rushed to the Ferrari garage to get prepped for the race at Imola. Todays goal was to win, make y/n proud and oh! win again. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, Y/n is on the plane flying a thousand miles away to get to the Imola grand prix in time.
Y/n arrives just in time as there were 2 more laps to go. As she quickly rushes to the Ferrari garage, Charles zoomed by the checkered flag in first place. The entire garage was filled with screams and cheers of joy celebrating another win for Ferrari. Outside, y/n could hear the grandstand booming with celebrations as the tifosi(s) celebrate Charles' victory. She couldn't believe it, it was her first time witnessing his win in real life and was feeling overjoyed. Her heart was full of love and admiration.
Charles parked his f1 car behind the '#1' sign and jumped out of the vehicle while doing a celebratory pose. He was feeling so pleased with his results and all he could think about was telling y/n.
As the post race interviews were held, y/n was hiding in the McLaren garage to avoid spoiling the surprise and bumping into her partner.
interviews .ᐟ
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"Charles Leclercc!!" echoes through the entire circuit as they announced the winner of the race. Charles walked to the first place of the podium, full of pride and a huge smile across his face. Y/n was standing amongst the crowds watching him stand on the top of the podium filled with excitement and proudness. 'I knew you could do it' she thought to herself, smiling like an idiot.
As the national anthem of Monaco ended, the top 3 winners sprayed each other with champagne and that marks the end of the ceremony.
As Charles makes his way to his motorhome, y/n was hiding in his drivers room with a bouquet in her hand. Other than Charles, his teammate, Carlos was walking alongside him to the motorhome secretly recording the surprise that was about to happen. "Mate, why are u following me to my drivers room?" asked Charles and he twisted the door knob. While still looking at Carlos with a puzzled look, he decides to ask the spaniard again. "Mate???" All Carlos could do was point his head towards the drivers room and there she was. Standing with a huge smile spread on her lips while holding a huge bouquet of red roses.
"Surprise?" said the girl. Charles mouth dropped agape while he stared at her in disbelief "y/n??" as he snaps back into reality, he quickly ran towards his lover and hugged her tightly. "Woah woah! I can't breath Charles" she chuckled. "I can't believe you're here! When did you arrive? How come do I not know? Why didn't you tell me??" Bombarding her with questions. "Mate, calm down" Carlos interjects , which was replied with a glare from his teammate. "Oh you can't believe how much I miss you."
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yourusername posted .ᐟ
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liked by charles_leclerc , lando and 221k others
yourusername hardest secret to keep❤️👻
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charles_leclerc Can't believe you're actually here❤️❤️
⤷ yourusername im literally right next to u rn🤨💘
lando not u hiding in the McLaren garage haha!!!
⤷ yourusername CHARLES IS SO BLIND HAHA
⤷ charles_leclerc ??????
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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎fin.
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an : tysm for reading!! I hope you guys liked this!! lmk your thoughts on it as this is my very first time writing. I love to read your comments and dont be shy to ask away in my inbox💌 dont forget to like, comment and reblog ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁!
taglist ⤷ @xf4iryx
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stevie-petey · 7 months ago
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episode eight: the battle of starcourt
He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”
Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !
Rating: general, violence and swearing
Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 21.2k (ouch)
Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !
-
El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart.��
No one knows what to do. 
Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.
“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe. 
“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”
Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”
Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”
The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”
“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”
You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”
Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”
El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”
“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”
Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”
He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”
“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest. 
Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you. 
“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her. 
You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you. 
Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.
“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood. 
“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!” 
You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.
“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.
She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it. 
To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it. 
El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill. 
With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it. 
You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch. 
Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before. 
Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”
“You know him?” 
Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.” 
“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face. 
Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”
“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”
Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”
“Anytime, old man.” 
– 
“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.” 
You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you. 
He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.
And somehow Billy has become the face of it. 
The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy. 
“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him. 
Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”
“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears. 
“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast. 
“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”
Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.  
Which, according to Max, is still very much alive. 
But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–” 
“We cut the brain off from the body.”
“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”
It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.
You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army. 
It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.
You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough. 
“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”
“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”
Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”
Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.” 
“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.
“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”
You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”
He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”
“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive. 
“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”
You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”
“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from. 
“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?” 
“And who are you?” 
“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”
“Murray… Bauman.”
“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”
“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”
You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”
“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”
While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”
“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”
“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.
“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.
“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”
“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.” 
Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”
Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”
“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time. 
You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”
“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him. 
You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”
“And I won’t.” 
“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means? 
In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you. 
The walkies. Cerebro.
“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”
Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”
Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”
Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”
“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him. 
You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”
“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”
“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”
“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”
“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”
He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.” 
Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”
Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”
You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”
“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”
More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper. 
Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him. 
Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with. 
The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away. 
He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”
You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”
Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”
Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”
“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”
Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”
“Astounding…”
You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh. 
Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all. 
Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions. 
“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”
“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission. 
He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”
“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”
“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”
“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier. 
Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”
You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”
Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home. 
You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others. 
Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.
“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.
You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”
“Lame.”
“Goodbye, Wheeler.”
Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”
Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed. 
But no one has asked the same question for Billy. 
Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”
Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them. 
– 
Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.
It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.
“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.
“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”
“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.
You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”
Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”
Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?” 
“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said. 
“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.” 
“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.
“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.
Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”
Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?
Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl. 
There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time. 
Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you. 
You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”
“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”
Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.” 
Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”
“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”
Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”
“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”
“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”
Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”
“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.
Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse. 
The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”
“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass. 
“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races. 
The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!” 
“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!” 
“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass. 
Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.
Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”
Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating. 
When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”
Bald Eagle had been your idea. 
“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.
He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”
“Not bad, buddy.”
Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”
Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.
Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone. 
You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him. 
“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”
“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”
“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”
You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”
From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.
It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall. 
You freeze. 
The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right. 
Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”
“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you. 
Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.
Someone has to help.
Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”
He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”
Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas. 
El.
The Mind Flayer has them. 
Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”
Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore. 
“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!”
“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”
Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”
“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”
Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing. 
“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”
The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.
Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough. 
“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”
“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together. 
You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”
“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction. 
In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you. 
“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.
You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”
“I see him!” He floors it. 
The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream. 
“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for. 
“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened. 
It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”
“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”
You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before. 
A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”
Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do. 
As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride. 
“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.
“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”
“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.
You wince. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”
No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums. 
It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim. 
“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.
Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.” 
“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right. 
The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”
“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.
Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”
“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand. 
“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”
“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”
You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.” 
Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?
“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out. 
“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better. 
“I want to hear it.”
Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”
“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise. 
Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”
“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you. 
Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”
His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to. 
The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you. 
Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw. 
“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together. 
Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them. 
Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song. 
That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.
After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”
Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”
“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”
The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later. 
Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with. 
“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases. 
“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”
You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”
Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”
“So you left them?”
“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this. 
“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!” 
“Y/N–”
“Turn. Around.”
“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!” 
Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall. 
– 
When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan. 
“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”
“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.
“If we throw them from above, yeah!”
You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”
Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.
You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”
Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”
Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth. 
Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin. 
It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game. 
But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back. 
“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. With every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens. 
Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky. 
Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.
Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition. 
“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face. 
Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive. 
Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El. 
She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving. 
“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.
You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone. 
“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters. 
“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him. 
“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”
Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t. 
You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”
And then you’re gone. 
Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her. 
They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws. 
Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him. 
Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp. 
Everything happens slowly after that. 
The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side. 
The second one that cuts through his other side. 
Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest. 
Everything stops.
“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares. 
As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.
The gate has been closed. 
Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body. 
“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”
You kneel next to her, at her side through it all. 
Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”
But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?
Those had been your last words to him. 
“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.
Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again. 
Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.” 
She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well. 
You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent. 
Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer. 
You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that. 
You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you. 
And then you had left him. 
Billy Hargrove died alone.
You and Max will share the burden of this guilt. 
– 
Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl. 
Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall. 
Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.
“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet. 
Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame. 
It’s all a blur after that. 
Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building. 
There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye. 
“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”
Time. 
It always goes back to time. 
Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat. 
A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.
Her eyes meet yours. 
Hopper isn’t with her.
Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs. 
In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.
“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you. 
Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body. 
There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.
You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father. 
You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything. 
You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired. 
“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”
Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”
“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”
Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”
“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”
You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”
El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up. 
Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft. 
But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair. 
“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”
Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”
You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”
He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”
Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable. 
Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless. 
You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being. 
“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.” 
Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?
You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can. 
Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.
Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him. 
“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”
Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you. 
You finally, finally, have come home. 
– 
Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time. 
After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster. 
“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.
Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.
Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling. 
Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days. 
During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do. 
Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.
Together, you all try to heal.
Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone. 
“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once. 
“Come outside, angel.”
His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”
“Wear something warm, okay?”
“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home. 
You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.
Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”
They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music. 
When your dad left, he took the music with him.
Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings. 
Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.
“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear. 
You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”
As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.
He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.
“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather. 
A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm. 
Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”
Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”
He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it. 
There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him. 
The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”
His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love. 
Take your time, I’ll be here. 
“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability. 
A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can. 
Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue. 
Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight. 
“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.
“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.
“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?” 
Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you. 
Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”
You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.
For time to stay like this, forever.
You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for. 
When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!” 
You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”
“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night. 
“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him. 
“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right. 
You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms. 
“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other. 
Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.” 
Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”
“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the  bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it. 
Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”
You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”
“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”
“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”
“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you. 
With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her. 
“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers. 
He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”
With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love. 
“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 
Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”
“I love it, Steve!” 
“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”
His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”
Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold. 
After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale. 
Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”
“I’m resting my eyes.” 
“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”
It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him. 
“I was scared, last summer.” 
Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”
“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”
“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”
He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”
“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”
Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”
“It’s tradition at this point.”
And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy. 
– 
A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night. 
His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in. 
You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change. 
Jonathan is crying. 
“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”
He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”
Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.
Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you. 
Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again. 
“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”
“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”
You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones. 
Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other. 
The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two. 
Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.
Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.
You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 
“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship. 
“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”
You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.
“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”
“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”
Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”
You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”
“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.
Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”
You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”
“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave. 
She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”
Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”
“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”
“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses. 
The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”
“A new what now?”
You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”
He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”
“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”
“Yeah?” 
“Stop talking.”
“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”
Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”
“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!” 
You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?” 
“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him. 
“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”
Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini. 
He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”
You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”
“I can sleep right now and find out–”
“I will flick you again.”
“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”
– 
When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack. 
You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night. 
As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyl's, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California. 
When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.
El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together. 
With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.
As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door. 
You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything. 
All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him. 
You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”
Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”
“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room. 
Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”
His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.
You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet. 
“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan. 
You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug. 
“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”
El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”
You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”
“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce. 
The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s. 
A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”
Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him. 
“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”
You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”
“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”
“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”
Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”
You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son. 
Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do. 
“Hey, little bee.”
He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”
Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”
“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you. 
“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.
You frown. “Hey, what is it?”
“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”
Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”
You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”
Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day. 
As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you. 
It’s time to say goodbye. 
Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 
A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.
“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”
You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this?”
Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it. 
“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his. 
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”
You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair. 
Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight. 
“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”
And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart. 
– 
The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye. 
You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead. 
“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”
“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van. 
Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”
“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.” 
Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house. 
Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again. 
You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky
Joyce’s words ring in your head.
It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will. 
The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist. 
You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new. 
Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.
And you believe her. 
[END OF SEASON THREE]
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averycutesalamander · 2 months ago
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pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT
ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao
may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.
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In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.
And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.
The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)
(Right?)
Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.
(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)
His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-
...and crumbles.
He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.
It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-
He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.
It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.
He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.
He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.
"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."
(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)
He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.
He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.
(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)
(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)
(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)
(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)
Something gives, eventually.
When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.
Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.
Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter.
...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.
After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.
"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."
Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.
Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter.
...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.
You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.
There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.
Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.
Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.
Never in your life have you seen him this manic.
His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.
For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.
Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.
You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"
(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)
He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.
Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.
"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."
You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.
"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."
He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.
(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)
(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)
When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.
Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)
Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.
"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."
(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)
(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)
He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.
By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.
For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.
Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.
(And you're all his, now.)
His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)
He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.
His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.
(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)
A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.
(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)
As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.
When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.
"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.
When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.
(He's barely sorry.)
"I don't like it either, but..."
(Yes, he does.)
"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"
(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)
(He could. He should.)
(He won't.)
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whousestypewriters · 1 month ago
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──── ୨ৎ RED WAS THE CARPET — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚
a/n: and everyone rejoiced. welcome back to the grayson series that is keeping you all alive bc it is shhh. lets all collectively ignore how i havent update this in a month but we move on and enjoy part threeeee !!! and pls forgive me idk anything abt events or red carpets so if i get anything wrong js pretend. also idk why but i love the title and the fact that is somehow makes zero sense and yet is still understandable i need to shut up ive rambled too much ENJOY (love you lots <33)
[part one] i'm a fan [part two] the book club
red was the carpet that you walked on earlier.
it matched your dress.
alya, your very annoying plus one for tonight was wearing black.
there was a lot of things that happened tonight. a lot of things you were never going to forget. everybody you met and talked with... especially one of them...
"oh my god, pheebs and ki are going to be so jealous," alya squeals - quietly of course, you're still surrounded by people, and although sometimes you think alya could actually fight god and win, in public, she's behaving surprisingly calm.
well calm adjacent.
its not exactly seen as calm and collected when you're jumping up and down every three seconds when you see another celebrity walk past preparing for the carpet.
to her credit though she has somehow managed to get the numbers of four actors and singers in the thirty minutes you've been here.
you were lined up at the end of the carpet along with a few other select interviewers, waiting for the start of the event. alya was a bundle of nerves when margot robbie and zendaya stopped for their interview barely getting a few words out and opting to just hold the camera instead.
when xander and jameson arrived though, that was a different story. you'd think they were life long friends. you chatted with max of course, promising to invite her to your next book sleepover, jameson was suspiciously quiet and smirk-y and xander kept looking over his shoulder a shit eating grin on his face.
you knew what was about to happen.
pictures don't do him justice.
that was to be expected, of course. you don't have millions of people following you, or watching your every move for no reason.
the screams on the red carpet, increased when he stepped foot on it, pleas to look at the camera, answer questions, how to pose, everything. he seemed to follow along well, looking hauntingly beautiful in his suit, his face practically carved but when he scanned the large crowd twice over before his eyes settled on you, it went quiet.
he smiled - and by the way it was really hot gorgeous - and you smiled back, a private moment between the two of you in the middle of chaos.
which was totally ruined when alya latched onto your arm and freaked out that she could see grayson.
"oh my god, he's like ten feet away. ohmygodohmygod!" she squealed.
"yeah i know, i can see him," you mutter back, attempting - and failing - to stop her jumping up and down.
"but he's like right there and he's looking at you!"
"i know."
"oh, oh, oh he's coming over to us now, oh my god i think i'm going to faint, hold me."
when the grayson hawthorne stopped in front of you a soft and rare smile on his face you faltered slightly - not because of alya standing there with her mouth agape, because... wow - before raising the microphone and starting.
"hi grayson, its lovely to meet you, i'm y/n."
yn.books
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liked by alya.green, maxine.liu.loo, pheobethereader, kirasbooknook, graysonhawthorne, and 852, 679 others
yn.books im am honoured to have been invited to this event!! it was so lovely meeting everyone and asking you questions 🤍 (also kinda freaking out because i met anne hathaway omggg)
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user1 i see no mention of grayson......
user2 avoiding talking about a certain someone are we?
user3 if they didn't meet im actually going to riot, i'm shipping them so hard.
user4 we have confirmation from jameson that he was there... why didnt you talk to him....
user5 maybe she just didn't want to show that?? its not always about grayson
alya.green best night of my life.
maxine.lui.loo it was so good seeing you again babes <333
yn.books we should catch up while im still in texass
────
graysonhawthorne
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liked by thehawthorneheiress, ticking.time.bomb, yn.books, kirasbooknook and 9, 853, 927 others
graysonhawthorne met some nice people tonight.
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user1 MET WHO GRAYSON??? MET WHO??
user2 ugh he's so delicious i love it
user3 everyone wake up grayson posted
user4 he better have met her or im going to quit
alya.green oh... i see how it is then.... i will do what i must...
user5 ALYA WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO??? OH MY GOD???
user6 ALYA ????
user7 in the likes she's in the likes againnnnn
────
[camera: on]
you should've know alya would have a shit eating grin the entire interview. it was tempting to punch her, very tempting.
"i honestly think divine rivals is my favorite book i've read this year," grayson's deep voice answers your question. his eyes stay on your face and he has a soft smile.
alya is elbowing you now. and you nudge her back as you ask your next question, smiling because now there are even more cameras on you.
"okay," you smile laughing nervously. "now i've asked everyone this tonight, i have a youtube channel."
"oh right yes, i follow you," grayson's voice is calm and his eyes are still on your face.
"you do?" with all of the things that are happening you weren't actually expecting him to be following you.
"yes, you're videos have become a guilty pleasure almost."
if anyone was wondering alya is losing her shit next to you. she has the biggest grin on her face, she's whipped out her camera and is taking an excessive amount of pictures.
"thats really sweet of you," a smile is present on your face now and you raise the microphone to ask your question, ignore the now fully smile grayson has on his face at your flustered-ness. "anyway my question was, do you have anything you want to say, a quote or just anything you like to tell the people watching?"
you turn the mic over to him and he looks down at you with a fond expression on his face - your insides are butterflies now - before looking at the camera.
"i'm going to say, you've made a good decision following this girl. she's a lovely person and keep supporting her," he pauses for a second, "and read divine rivals."
you laugh and nod at the camera, "i agree 100%." turning back to him you start. "well thank you for your time tonight, grayson, it was lovely to getting to know you," you look over to the over excited alya who's just standing back and nodding as if she's a proud mother. "and maybe we'll see you inside."
"hopefully we will," grayson smiles and waves slightly before moving on to the next interviewer.
[camera: off]
────
alya.green
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liked by yn.books, maxine.liu.loo, pheobethereader, kirasbooknook, graysonhawthorne and 11, 483, 228 others
alya.green two things: 1, my dress tonight and 2, if they won't do it... i will.
tagged: graysonhawthorne, yn.books
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user1 OH SHE IS SO MESSY
user2 THIS IS THE QUEEN BEHAVIOUR I SUPPORT
user3 and when i tell you cackled BC LOOK AT THEIR SMILES. LOOK AT THE WAY SHES LOOKING AT HIM.
pheobethereader and you're officially invited back to the next book sleep over.
alya.green i don't need ur validation i dont have to come to the sleepovers
pheobethereader ok then :)
alya.green no wait i'll do anything i have like zero self respect when it comes to the sleepovers
user4 OH HELL YEAH THEY METTTT
ticking.time.bomb and then after the premier... the restaurant....?
alya.green all in due time my friend
user5 EXCUSE ME??? THE RESTAURANT WHAT HAPPENED???
user6 im going to need you to spill the tea RIGHT NOW
user7 the fact that they both liked this but didn't comment 😭😭
────
the restaurant was another story though, for another time.
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a/n II: guys i lowkey hate it but i was determined to finish this so :)))
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𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @maybxlle @reminiscentreader, @sweetreveriee
@elysianwayy77 @tornqdowarnings, @catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @thelov3lybookworm,
@anotherwriternamedclara,
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lotte-s-web · 1 year ago
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OH MY GOD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED UR ASK 🫧ANON IM SO SORRY BUT PLS I KNOW I SAW IT😭😭 ur so right though about hobie having a thing for loser nerds its augh
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₊✩‧ ❝hobie x loser!reader❞ headcanons ✩‧₊
₊˚⭑ warnings: nsfw, gn!reader, teasing, penetrative sex
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He’s such a sucker for loser nerds, such a sucker for you. He’s addicted to the way the simplest of things get you riled up so easily, how he can do so little and watch it affect you so much.
He loves flustering you, loves teasing you by interrupting your rambling and asking you to repeat yourself, leaning in closer to “hear ya bett'r.” He just finds it so cute when you stutter over yourself, losing your train of thought ‘cause of how close his face is to yours. he loves the way you have to grip at yourself to keep your composure from faltering. He knows he’s being mean, he knows he’s being an ass, but god, he can’t help it that you’re so pretty when you’re a bit embarrassed.
He loves touching you, loves knowing how it ignites an uncomfortable warmth at your core that you desperately try to ignore. It’s never a big gesture either, just an arm draped around your shoulder, his knees knocking against yours. he pretends he doesn’t notice how your breath hitches, how your thighs rub together as you try to carry on with the conversation without thinking of the way his skin was brushing against yours. 
To both of your surprise, it’s you who makes the first move. It’d be a bold move on your part, but in reality, the teasing had just gotten too much for you to bear. you couldn’t go on like this anymore, your heart thumping wildly at having him brush against you lightly, having his breath tickle your ear whenever to confide in you what he thought of your outfit today. It was really the little things that had your chest feeling like it was about to burst, you couldn’t do it anymore.
He watches you stumble over yourself as you try to get out how you like him, wringing your hands together in an attempt to channel the panic thrumming through your mind. He’s patient, waiting for you to say what you need to say before taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to kiss you, sealing the deal before you can go back on your confession. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and you melt, making him smile as he slips his tongue past your eager lips.
Being with him doesn’t make him any less teasing though, if anything, it just makes him more intense. he’s meaner, more teasing, his hands growing more brazen in their attempts to rile you up. 
He’ll rest his head on the junction of your neck and shoulders, murmuring in your ear about how good you look as his hands go to hold your waist. He’ll toy with your clothing when you’re out with your friends, pulling you against his side and continuing on with the conversation as you try to keep yourself from molding into his warmth. You both know he’s doing it on purpose, know he likes seeing you cave into him, and as much as you’d want to detest it, he knows you like it too.  And he’s not above using it in the bedroom, not above taking advantage of the way you’re so willing to please him no matter how embarrassed you were about it.
He loves seeing your eyes when he’s fucking you, loves the way it’s in your most ruined state that he gets to see just how much you admired him, how much you worshipped him.
He holds your cheeks to keep your eyes on him when he’s fucking you in missionary, watching as they look up at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky. he almost laughs at you, close to calling your devotion pathetic.
He has you on your knees in front of a mirror as he gives you backshots, watching your face contort at each calculated thrust of his hips as his tip hits just right against your sweet spot. He holds your face up by the neck, applying just the right amount of pleasure to make you dizzy. He tells you to keep eye contact with him as he wrecks you.
You watch him in the mirror as he uses his free hand to pull your hips back against him with each thrust, your whines growing in volume. He has you absolutely cock-drunk, going cross-eyed and shuddering violently as you cum around him with a loud cry. 
You catch your breath together once everything has subsided, his cock still sheathed within you as you both pant like dogs. He brushes his lips against your cheek and sighs, wrapping his arms around your torso. 
“Ya’d do anythin’ f’me, wouldn’ ya?” He asks, turning your head with a gentle grip on your chin, moving you to face him. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know, anything.
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a/n: 🫧anon IM SO SORRY I DELETED UR ASK MY BADD AGHHGSHDSH HOPE U LIKED IT THO😭😭 ๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou
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3cremepie3 · 2 months ago
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Winter concert
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Synopsis - ANGST & SMUT 18+! CATER X FEM READER! You find out about Caters saddening behavior and do everything in your power to take him out of that dark headspace. You're in love with him after all.
Warnings - mentions of self-harm, scars, cvtting, smut, unprotected sex, creampies, declarations of love
A/n - at the end of the story. This is pretty heavy pls read all tags. AND MERRY Christmas 🎄!! ANGST & SMUT 18+! CATER X FEM READER!
“Oh my god you guys were amazing,” you gushed. “I can’t believe you broke your guitar right in front of Crowley Lilia! And Kalim don’t even get me started on that drum break,” you rambled.
“Thank you Y/n,” Kalim gleamed. “Our biggest fan strikes again,” Lilia says. “Of course look what I made you guys.” You laid out a poster you made of them on the auditorium floor.
The crowd was bustling in the background leaving the venue but you could still hear their oos and ahhs. “We love it,” Lilia and Kalim cheered. Cater smiled too but was quieter than his usual demeanor.
Kalim ended up taking the poster home with him promising he would hang it up. And Lila left soon after him with Silver and Sebek fanboying. Cater was still at the venue putting his guitar in his sticker-covered case.
“You’re always the last to pack up,” you say. “Taking responsibility for those messy boys I guess? He shook his head picking up his amp. You watched the muscles in his lean arms flex while he did so. “Why are you so quiet today Cater?” He was your crush you could notice any change in his behavior.
“Something happened I don’t know about,” you questioned. As your guy's unofficial manager I demand to know,” you bluffed. “You know about it.” He groaned and mumbled at the same time making his words drawn out but quiet. “Then tell me! Or I’m gonna steal this!” You pouted grabbing his guitar case before he could get to it.
“Y/n pls,” he sighed deeply clearly irritated. “Just tell me,” you giggle. He runs after you almost catching you until he falls over a speaker cord. “Jesus Cater I’m sorry.” You say rushing over to him he falls flat on his pretty face.
“Fuck!” He cussed harshly while getting off the ground. It’s obvious he had a bad day. You grabbed his hand helping him up off the slippery stage floors. While you did so you noticed his sleeve roll up. You couldn’t help but glance at the fresh scars lined up across his wrist.
They were a burning bright red contrasting across his pale skin. “Cater…,” you trailed. He grabbed his arm away from your hand quickly pulling down his sleeve along with it. “Wait Cater I’m sorry,” you called after him.
"You can talk to me I didn’t mean to be intrusive," you stated. He exited the doors quickly ignoring your pleas. "Swear I won't tell anyone," you insisted. You chased after him carrying the gift you made in his honor. He stayed quiet continuing his walk to the chamber of mirrors. "Cater please I don't want you to keep doing this to yourself!"
You had both finally come to a halt stopping at the hall of mirror doors. You watched as expression changed through the many reflective lenses. "You're always so god damn nosy Y/n. Why can't you just leave me alone," he screamed.
"Well, that's because I love your guy's work. Truly I do You are all very talented." Talented my ass," Cater huffed. "What do you mean," you interrupted. "Im nothing but a fuck up! My work up there was sloppy and offbeat and I don't deserve to be in a club with people that much more talented than me."
"Everywhere I go I feel like I'm lagging behind everyone." Cater breaking away from his normally cheerful demeanor would normally make you excited since you were seeing the real him. But this was different. "Cater... I didn't expect any of this and I'm sorry if I annoy you."
"But I'm only around you so much because I care about you. I love the music you make and even if you do badly in a performance that's what you have practices for. People are never going to be perfect that's the point of having so much time in life so you can use it to improve. Also, I couldn’t hear one mistake up there but maybe that’s just my untrained ears,” you thought.
For a moment everything was silent you had imagined that what you said probably felt like useless rambling to him. And After what felt like 10 minutes of silence he turned around to your begging face. "Do you mean that?" Of course I do baby," You smile. He swears it's the brightest thing he's ever seen so blinding it could take away all his senses for an eternity.
"Cater you're only 18 years old. I know on social media you see all these people with the luxuries of grown adults but they set unrealistic standards. In my eyes, you're doing well." You grab his freckled hand and squeeze it. His palms are sweaty and his eyes are searching yours for any hint of lying.
"You have good grades," you say. "Well that's because of Riddle," he admits. "He may have had some influence but you keep them up mostly yourself otherwise that collar would be on your neck right now," you giggle. "And you have more clout than any of my socials combined!"
"That's because I spam posts with hashtags," he frowns. "So do thousands of others and who did the algorithm pick up?" You raised your eyebrows waiting for an answer. "Me," he smirks. "Yeah, you Cater you're my favorite niche micro internet celebrity."
"Really," he gasps. "Yes, your magicam is so aesthetically pleasing I can't help but cyberstalk you sometimes." Woah creepy much," he teases. "You know you love having fans." You playfully roll your eyes. "Thank you for this Y/n I really appreciate it."
His voice dropped from its "normal" high pitch when he stated this making you wonder if the Cater you knew wasn't the real him all along. "Anytime really." You grab both of his hands not wanting to ever let go. "Get a room," a drunken savannaclaw student yells. He pushes past the both of you entering the hall of mirrors.
“Asshole,” you suck your teeth. "Look Cater I know recovery may seem far ahead right now but it's best to stop before things get out of hand." You're both entering the hall of mirrors as you speak. Just as he's nearing the Heartslybul dimension you mumble "I can't afford to lose you too."
"Y/n." He turns around to see you in tears.” Sorry I’m such a baby,” you laugh. "Please don't cry over me I'm right here." You're instantly pulled into his arms he embraces your trembling form. "Cater let me spend the night please itll give me peace of mind," you beg.
"Riddle would kill me if he knew a girl was in my room are you kidding me," he huffed. "Well sneak me in," you demanded. "Come on I know you sneak in magicdash all the time Ace and Duece tell me so.” Fine just follow my league."
When you get to the dorm it’s dark it’s been at least an hour past bedtime. You and Cater creep down the halls careful not to knock into the many statues and card decor. "My rooms up this way." He guides you by the hand sending shivers up your spine. You always dreamed of him touching you past friendly pats on the back. Finally, after endless halls you make it.
"Now I see why I've never been here before why is your room so far away? It was the only place I could get a room to myself after the house wardens changed." He removes his shoes and jacket plopping down on his bed. You stand up taking a look around his room.
"So where’s the weapon of interest," You asked. You took a seat at his desk chair turning it around to face his bed. "Ahh why did I invite you here," he sighs. "So I could help you remember?" You glance over at his slumped form. “Fine it's in that lockbox." he points to underneath his dresser. There's a small safe-like box that you remember him getting in the silk city.
"You gotta open it i don't have the key." You can tell he's hesitant as you walk over to him. You sit next to him on the bed watching as he fiddles with the passcode. "I promise you you're gonna feel so much better after this." He opened the box revealing sharp razor blades. Some you could tell were used.
You couldn’t help but frown seeing the sight. How could someone so perfect hurt themselves like that? "You're gonna be so proud of yourself after you get rid of them.” You rub his shoulder and without parting your lips further encourage him to get rid of them. But he still makes no moves "Come on you got this," you challenge. He freezes in place for a minute.
He thinks a little harder about your words. "And how would you know? You keep saying you know what's good for me and you haven't experienced shit." You have all the friends in the world here? His face cringes at your calm one peering back at him.
Looking into his eyes you could tell they were hurt bloodshot red from crying. You know this is triggering for him since you're seeing him how no one else does. The him without his happy-go-lucky facade. "I didn't wanna have to do this." You get off the bed and he watches as you strip down to your underwear.
You blush heavily reavling your body. "There's so many," he winces. He should ask but he can't help but feel your skin. Your scars cover your thighs in long streaks many of them so deep he wonders how you didnt have to go to the infirmary. Your upper arms right above your sleeves also hold some.
"I made sure to hide them where no one could see unless they undressed me. Guess that's why I can't keep a boyfriend I refuse to have sex with them because of this," You laugh to hide your pain. "I'm sorry,” he says eyes dropping to the floor. You huff going to grab your shirt to put back on. "I had to let you see this ugly part of me. So you can know at one point I felt the same level of emptiness.”
"You're anything but ugly." He pulls your body into his giving you a tight hug. You can tell he doesn't want to let go and is caught up in the moment since he's hugging your half-naked form. "What I see is a person that was trying to hide their struggles eventually break through from them and stop altogether." These scars are all healed." he said admiring your plush thighs. “And their fading I can tell you haven’t done it for months.”
Eventually, he realizes how and where he caressing you his actions his brain deemed as sweet now affecting him truly. "Shit I'm sorry I must seem like a perv," he cussed letting you go. "It’s okay," you chuckle. You kiss his cheek "I know you didn't mean it like that sweet boy." His face turns a bright red your kneeling over him on his bed and all he can see is your cleavage through your bra.
"You can heal too Cater I know you can. I got to into my head about being brought here to twisted wonderland and was sad that I lost everything. My family, house, friends, even my trifling schoolmates. Then I reflected and realized I was probably brought here for a reason. I believe everyone has a purpose and you will find yours. It may not be in this school and that’s alright.”
"I thought of all the friends I made. Like Ace and Grim oh and you of course though my feelings for you were a little different," you added. "Are you saying what i think youre saying," he asked. "Yes Cater I love with you with my whole heart. Don’t ever forget it and if you would allow me too… I want to be one with you. Youre the only person to see me for everything I truly am." One of his hands goes to the smooth of your back while the other interlocks with your own.
"I feel the same way Y/n im so sorry for what i said earlier. It’s just I thought you were happy I was such a idiot for not realizing. In the end I just pushed you away.” It’s okay maybe I was great at hiding it after all just never blame yourself. And don’t ever be mean to me again I had to try not to cry,” you pouted. "I promise i wont from now and to forever." Mark that promise with a kiss," You demand your arms wrapping themselves behind his head. He does so his tounge tracing around your unfimilar mouth. You quickly get used to how hungry he is taking the limited breaths of air he gives you not for granted.
His hands draw down to your panties removing the garments and tossing them somewhere into his room. “Can I touch you,” he asks. You shake your head pulling his hands further down your body. “This is a little more than a kiss,” you tease. You feel him smirk onto your mouth not stopping for anything.
He grips your ass pulling you down onto his crotch. You can feel his hard on as you grind down. The tension is delicious as his mouth further engulfs yours. There’s nothing more you guys can share as you devour each other. By the time you pull away your face is covered your connected spit.
His hands move you at a steady tempo. The thick fabric of his jeans make you wish he wore leggings as you can’t feel him as much as you need him. “Cater if you’re comfortable can you take off your pants?” Anything for you precious.” He speaks while peeling off his pants his legs are all clear thankfully.
“You’re lucky I trust you very few have seen this package,” he brags. You giggle while bringing yourself down on him. You both only have a thin layer of clothing stopping you from greatness. But you’re to scared to ask him if he wants to go that far.
He’s already gave you a lot tonight trusting you with his business . “I’m surprised,” you say between breathes. “That you aren’t tryna take pictures right now,” you joke. “I won’t post them of course but can I,” he pleads. “Wanna save them for later!”
“Fine I have something post worthy,” you winked. He blushed at your behavior. You grabbed his jaw forcing him to receive the many kisses you gave him. “Look at you baby!” You handed him a mirror to show his lipstick stained face and lips.
“Wow this is totes postable if you want me to of course.” Of course I want you too,”you smiled. “Don’t you want me to show you off?” Everyone at school would freak out but yeah I’d love that.” Fine then later on it’s posted but for now there’s something else I need to focus on.”
“You’ve been making me feel good with all your sweet words dear and you deserve to feel the same way.” His hands dipped into your waistband sending butterflies tumbling in your stomach. “I’ve never done-.” Shh just let me handle it relax okay?”
Your legs parted for him allowing him to enter inside of you. His fingers were long and slender while two of them worked at slowly stretching you another one traced your clit. He watched your cute reactions in admiration “you’re so sensitive.”
“Does it feel good,” he asked. “Yes you’re doing so well.” You bit your lip trying to hold back your moans. Your eye contact was strong as he worked your hole. “Mmm you’re so wet baby you hear that?”
“Cater that’s so embarrassing stop,” you whined. “It’s sexy knowing you like this so much.” All for me huh? Yes for you,” you blurted. Your hand went to his wrist trying to slow down his pattern an orgasm like you never experienced was upcoming.
He swatted your hand away and kept working while you got an idea. You pulled out his dick and watched it spring onto his abdomen. “Leaking so much,” you asked. “Can’t help it seeing that pretty body.” You stroaked to the rhythm of his fingers. You couldn’t help but get giddy at his words.
He went faster sending your toes curling and mind spiraling you did the same onto his dick. “Gonna cum already?” Don’t tease me I can’t help it,” he grits. Looking into each others eyes you could tell you were getting lost.
The rooms noise level filled drastically as you groaned into each others mouths having no courtesy for the people near by. Your fingers traced his slit spreading his precum down onto his shaft.
You felt him twitch in your palm. His ears were bright red and tears pooled in his eyes. His lips were getting swollen from kissing. “Fuck!” You’ve never seen such a more stunning sight. It made you want to savor the moment.
But you couldn’t think when he was knuckles deep in you. “I don’t think I can wait,” you hissed. “Please let me cum Cater. He almost came undone with you asking for permission. “Fine we can do it together uggh!” Not even a second later and you were releasing all over each others hands making a mess outta your underwear.
You held him close as he kissed up your neck. You both collapsed on each other out of breath. You could feel his heart pounding on yours and for a moment you were at peace until you felt him get hard again behind you.
“Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together,” you smirked. You laid back on the bed. “I thought you were a virgin Y/n?” I am. “Youre losing it to me,” he gasped. “Yes Cater you’re an amazing person how many times do I have to tell you I trust you?” I rather it be you than anyone else.”
“Tell me to stop at anytime okay?” You shook your head. He spread your legs and lined up his cock with your awaiting hole. “I’m ready.” You held onto one of his pillows it smelled like him. He thought you looked too cute holding on for dear life.
You wished his dick wasn’t so fat as he stilled inside you. “You’re bleeding are you okay?” Yes,” you cried burying your face into the pillow. “I’m used to it but can you please hold my hand?” He answered your simple request by holding them. He used both to stabilize himself making slow thrust.
Even though it felt like he was about to burst out his seems in your tight heat he held back until you were ready. Your legs wrapping around his narrow torso told him so. And for the first time in his life he knew he was in some place where he belonged. One he never wanted to leave as long as you were there.
The more your pretty lips called out his name the more he wanted to just claim you forever. Your gummy walls squeezed tightly around him. “Gosh you feel so good,” Cater cooed. His body pressed against yours bringing your legs up to your chest. He swore he could drool at any moment from keeping his mouth open.
It couldn’t stop hanging open as he muttered curses into your ears. You couldn’t help but take the sinful talk as he pressed you down his hands leaving yours to put you in a mating press. You swore all air was knocking out of your lungs as he did so.
You vision began to get foggy as your body was being controlled by his dick. “Give it to me! So good… too good,” you swooned. “Going all stupid for me my love,” he hummed. You shook your head a dozen times already fucked out. You couldn’t help but gush on him as he picked up his pace.
“So sorry- I don’t wanna hurt you.” It’s alright feels good!” Your hands traced up his arms feeling up his scars but he didn’t mind. “Wanna be like this for the rest of my life,” he grunted.
You giggled as his mouth came down onto yours. Your teeth clashed and tounges collided but it was filled with joy. “I can tell you’re almost there come on let go,” he instructed. “I wanna cum together,” you grinned. “Good I can’t hold back anymore.” His whimpers were becoming more apparent as he spilled his seed in you.
He sounded like he was in pure extasy while you creamed all over him. Even though he pulled out he could still feel the connection you both now shared. And to think he was gonna skip out on the concert. He laid next to you in bed facing you.
Your body was spasming a bit still and his fresh cum poured out of you. “Can we cockwarm I bet it’ll feel good,” he advised. “Later after you complete your final step.” By now you’re both half asleep and Cater doesn’t want to do anything to leave your side.
But he’s ready to appease you and himself. He takes the box away from the floor and disposes of the blades. You cheer a bit and he gets back in bed. “It’s a pretty box again I think I know what I’m gonna fill it with this time.” And what’s that,” you wondered.
“The pictures from today and here on out.” You smiled from ear to ear. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” Duh dummy,” he taunted.
A/n - this was pretty personal lol. But Cater is one of the most mysterious Twisted Wonderland characters. Whenever his true nature is hinted at it’s always something sneaky or pretty depressed. It’s like he has this happy mask on that he can’t break outta habit from his childhood. So I thought to make a story like this. I will probably write a part two because things don’t change over night and there will be more to these characters. I didn’t mention it but they do end up cockwarming and going for more rounds ;3
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