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florencemtrash · 7 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Lucien Vanserra could kill me and I would be honored. Cannon typical violence. Some angst. Lots of fun

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Lucien stood in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. Words stuck in his throat.

You knew as his eyes roamed over your features that he was hunting for some mark of Helion’s that you’d inherited, whether it be the set of your eyes, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, or even the tilt of your sharp ears. But he came up empty. Whatever features you did share with Helion could have easily been shared by two strangers. It was how you’d gotten away with working with him at the Day Court and attending balls by his side.

But there were some things that went deeper than skin and bones. He could barely make it out in the hum of your power and the faint, charming glow in your eyes. It was something that spoke of warmth and sparkling intellect. A sliver of the sun given form.

You were Helion’s daughter.

You were… you were his sister.

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I understand this must be a surprise. Perhaps not the kind of surprise you were hoping for.”

“You’re my sister,” Lucien finally breathed out, and the wind, so harsh and biting before, ceased.

“Half-sister… technically.”

“I don’t go by halves.”

The sharp, sudden rush of cold air into your lungs had you shivering. Lucien noticed and without thinking he reached out with his power, wrapping heat around your body until you may as well have been perched in front of a roaring fire. His magic smelled like woodsmoke and balsam.

“You’re my sister.” He repeated the phrase a few more times, finding it more believable with each swirl of the words around his tongue.

Elain had known this was coming and had given him a cryptic warning, but that did nothing to lessen the excitement spreading in his chest with each passing second.

You watched him wearily, hands clasped over your body and eyes furrowed, like you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Which was ridiculous. How could Lucien ever be upset by this?

“You’re my sister!”

A sharp laugh exited his body that grew and grew until you felt like you were floating on the waves of his happiness. He rushed forward, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Wind rushed past your ears as the world blurred.

He gently deposited you back on solid ground.

“How old are you? How long have you known about Helion? Where have you been all this time?” He asked the questions in rapid succession, heart hammering away in his chest.

He had a sister. A sister.

“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”

He smiled. He’d always wanted a younger sibling. A younger sister to be exact that he could teach to fight and hunt and ride with more support than he’d ever been afforded.

“I’ve known about Helion since I was little.” Lucien’s smile slipped at that revelation. “And I’ve been in the Day Court in one of the athenaeums. It was my home up until the point where Koschei burned down my house and I got saddled with Beth’s book. I’ve been here ever since. Although I never expected for any of this—” You gestured vaguely at the House, the sky, at Lucien, “to happen. Not that I’m upset!” You added quickly.

“What was it like? Growing up in the Day Court?” He looked you up and down again, searching for scars or broken bones that had never healed right. But from what he could tell, you were whole.

He clenched his fists tightly until you answered.

“It was safe. Lonely, but safe.”

“Good.” He breathed out in relief. “Good.”

Azriel watched everything from the deck that wrapped around the back of the house. The wind carried the tang of salt, opening his lungs and easing the pain in his chest that wrapped around him like a vice. He kept his wings pulled in tight and hands clasped behind his back. He was a slice in the fabric of the universe, unmoving and still.

And he missed you. Gods did he miss you.

“We shouldn’t stand so close,” Azriel murmured.

His voice was ragged, filled with more gravel than the walkway that snaked through Elain’s garden. Weighed down with secrets that felt more like anvils.

Elain dropped the empty bucket onto the deck followed by the clang of her spade. The shovel lay discarded in the field, the ground marked by neat lines of overturned earth. She cupped her hands and blew into them, breathing life back into her stiff fingers.

Twenty minutes ago he’d seen you run beneath his window, racing towards the Sidra with your robes hiked up to your knees so you could try and keep up with Lucien’s long strides as he pulled you along by your hand, red hair streaming behind him like a bundle of ribbons.

You’d been calling out for him to slow down, your voice loud and breathless.

And after everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, he couldn’t stop himself from walking down to the deck to watch you.

Now you stood at the water’s edge with your hands outstretched, dutifully holding onto every stone that Lucien plucked from the river. Your head tipped to the side in curiosity.

His childhood in Autumn had not been kind, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy moments sprinkled in amongst the sorrow. There in the woods with bejeweled treetops and diamond glass rivers he’d learned how to swim and fish and hunt. He’d wrestled with his brothers, fallen in love, and gained the confidence and freedom to eventually travel the Courts and make his own way in the world.

But you’d been lonely your whole life. Trapped indoors with nothing but your books for company. You’d never learned how to swim. You’d never dug through the soil for slimy worms to go fishing. You’d never fallen asleep beneath a glittering sky, fire smoke curling in the air and the taste of chestnuts lingering on your tongue and filling your belly.

It had been a different kind of sorrow, but no less real.

Lucien aimed to change some of that. Your mere presence beside him, as hesitant as it was, filled him with a happiness he couldn’t name.

He had his trousers rolled up to his thighs revealing powerful legs and freckled, caramel-brown skin. He didn’t mind the cold waters rolling over his hands as he tracked the riverbed for the smoothest, flattest stones. Every time he looked back you were either watching him or examining each stone with narrowed eyes like you’d find some algorithm carved into their edges that would tell you what made them so special for the task at hand.

Azriel couldn’t hear what you two were saying, and he didn’t send his shadows out to investigate, but soon you were tugging off your boots, then your socks, and tying the long length of your robes around your waist. You gingerly dipped your toes into the river and immediately leapt back.

Lucien’s laugh rolled over the earth, full of warmth and joy. He was grinning so wide Azriel could see the whites of his teeth and his shaking shoulders.

Inch by inch you walked into the river up to your calves and Lucien dunked his cupped hands into the cold water.

“Don’t you dare! Lucien!”

Then you were shaking your head, slapping Lucien’s hands away with a shout when he tossed the water at your face, and threatening to launch the black stones back into the river for him to fetch. Your toes were already starting to go numb.

Azriel’s heart gave a painful lurch, even as he smiled softly at the sight of you.

“I don’t… I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.” Azriel swallowed and turned his gaze down to where a plump sparrow was digging around in the grasses.

Elain ignored him, dropping her arms onto the wooden railing and staring out. She let out a lovely, longing sigh and Azriel just knew she was strumming the bond within her chest to feel Lucien on the other side.

The red-haired male looked up to meet her gaze and smiled softly. You also looked up, and then immediately looked away with rosy cheeks.

“Lucien knows where I stand. He… he’s finally beginning to trust me again.”

He’d been so eager to give her his heart the first time around, and she’d crushed it beneath her dainty shoes, too angry at the life that had been torn away to look at the one she’d been given. This time around she was determined to earn Lucien’s love, no matter how easy he made it for her. No matter how many times he told her it wasn’t something that had ever needed to be earned.

“It took some time to gain that back.” She shifted. “But then again, we were lucky. We knew what we were to each other. You still haven’t told Y/n you’re mates.”

“You know about that?”

Elain rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, because it was.

“I don’t think I can tell her, Elain.”

“And why not?”

Azriel hesitated.

Here was a truth he hadn’t been able to express to his brothers — the truth they didn’t understand: They were good, decent males, and when it had come to their mating bonds they’d treated them with the respect they deserved. They’d been patient. They’d never tried to force a hand that wasn’t theirs.

But Azriel was… wrong. In so many ways he was wrong.

He either waited too long or he moved without thinking. He fell into obsession like a starling with clipped wings. He scrounged for scraps of affection where he wasn’t supposed to and brooded when it inevitably blew up in his face. He’d been trying to take his time with you. He’d been trying to do it right. He was…

He was already in love with you.

He’d been in love with you for some time now.

Elain smiled, still staring towards the river.

She had loved Azriel once. Not in the way she loved Lucien and not in a way that had been good for them, but still it had been love of some kind. She could feel the waves rolling off his body as he came to his quiet realization, and it felt very different from the way he’d felt about her and very similar to the way she felt about Lucien.

“I love her, Elain.” He whispered the words like they were fragile as spun sugar, ready to dissolve the moment they left his lips.

“She’ll say yes to the bond. I’ve seen it.”

Azriel let out a broken, strangled noise and looked at Elain, begging for more. “Even after—”

“Yes. Even after what that boy made you do. Even after what she learned when she touched your hand.” She looked down at Azriel’s hands, leather gloves worn and supple. She gave them a squeeze. “A year ago I had a vision of a white bird flying out of the sun with a golden ribbon tied to one of its feathers. Its wings were dipped in ink so she could leave a trail along the ground for a beast of shadow to follow.”

Azriel went still as death. “And then what happened?”

Elain looked up at him, eyes glittering. “She flew to the base of a mountain, laid down, and has been waiting ever since. She’s been waiting for you. For someone who understands what it means to be lonely and what it’s like to hope for more.”

And Azriel did exactly that. He hoped for more.

More time with you. More unrestrained touches. More midnight conversations until your eyes were threatening to shut.

Something changed then. Elain’s brown, doe eyes turned misty and flat. Her voice dropped and the hand she reached out to grab hold of his arm was cold as ice.

“You need to be careful, Az,” she warned. “Don’t let her go into the mirror. She may not come out.” She clawed at his arms. “Az, you need to be careful. The mirror…”

He gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her as she swayed on her feet.

“Elain, what—” But her vision was already gone. No matter how hard she tried to hold on it was like trying to keep water in a cracked cup.

Lucien kept his arm perfectly parallel with the earth, drew back, and snapped his wrist at the last second. The stone flew out over the glassy river and kept kissing the surface in weakening arches before it was eventually swallowed up in a dollop of salt.

“Eight.”

Lucien looked at you incredulously. “I counted nine.”

“Eight skips,” you argued. “Males always overestimate.”

“And what experience do you have with males?”

None. Except for that one glorious day you’d clung to Azriel like the world was finally peaceful. It was nowhere near the level of experience you suspected Lucien must have after centuries spent bouncing around from Court to Court. Nowhere near the level of experience Azriel or the others had when it came to touch.

You bristled. “Enough.”

Lucien smirked like he knew you were lying and held out his hand for another stone. Soon it too was lost to the river.

“How many this time?”

You twisted your lips to the side, but had to admit, “Nine.”

He was grinning.

“Come on.” He held out his hand for you, beckoning you deeper into the river. “Your turn. Just like I showed you.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Come on!”

“I will kill a fish, Lucien.”

There was a playful roll of his eyes. “Y/n—”

“I’ll end up throwing a rock so hard into the water I’ll give an innocent, unsuspecting fish brain damage.” So what if you were being melodramatic. That did nothing to counter the fact that your hand-eye coordination was shit.

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Wrong.

You were gods awful at this.

You tried your best to mimic the bend of Lucien’s spine as he let go of his stone, tried to mimic the way he curled his fingers against its rounded edges. But every single one of your throws was either too strong or too weak. Too high or too low.

You chucked the last rock in your hand but the spin on it — or rather lack thereof — was abysmal. It plopped into the river three yards away with a splash.

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head as you stomped back onto the beach, swearing with every step as your robes dragged through the water behind you.

You whirled around and kicked up river water in his direction.

“Stop laughing!” A smile tugged at your lips even as you said that.

“You’re doing very well!”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not!”

“I didn’t grow up in the backwoods of Autumn. I’ve never done this before,” you grumbled, your words tinged with embarrassment.

And thank the Mother you hadn’t. Yes, Lucien had always wanted a sister, but he flinched just to think of the horrors you would have faced if you’d both shared a mother instead of a father. The ways Beron would have bent you until you broke, especially as a female. Sold to the highest bidder and forced to have as many children as possible. A high-end, noble-blooded breeder.

Suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. The smile slipped off his bright face.

You stiffened. Some of the scars on Lucien’s body took on new meaning.

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” you said. The fun of the afternoon, as embarrassing as it had been for you, fell away. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You’d only heard whispers of the way Beron treated his children. Which could only mean that they’d endured infinitely worse.

Lucien shook his head and more of his scarlet hair came tumbling out of his braid. He looked so much like Helion in the sun that you were surprised more people didn’t know. They had the same strong noses, the same build with their tapered waists and strong legs. They even had the same dimple on their left cheeks.

But maybe Beron and his brothers had known, or at least suspected that he was different, and that had added to Lucien’s torment.

“Maybe one day you could show me though,” you asked hopefully when the silence was on the verge of becoming too loud, “I’ve never been to Autumn — I’ve not been to most places, actually — but I’d like to see it. I could show you the Day Court too.”

He shook his head slowly, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think that would be a good idea — visiting the Day Court.”

That was the issue you’d been tiptoeing around the last two hours. You both knew about Helion, but he was only aware of your existence, not Lucien’s. And it was one thing for you to be revealed as Helion’s daughter — there’d be gossip, attempts on your life, and countless marriage proposals.

But for Lucien? He’d suddenly find himself face to face with the weight of a crown and an entire Court on his shoulders. You wouldn’t blame him for trying to avoid that fate.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Lucien… Why haven’t you told Helion yet? Beron’s been dead for years now, and I’ve heard only good things about Eris. That he’s honest and fair. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d punish you if you claimed your right to Helion’s Court.”

His bright eyes turned bitter, all laughter disappearing. He dipped his hand into the river, picked up a rock, and chucked it back in. Its edges were too ragged anyway.

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”

You straightened up as if the answer were obvious. “Trust me, he doesn’t know. If he knew you were his son, he would have found ways to see you grow up. We might have even grown up together.”

It was a pathetic daydream, but one you’d been thinking about.

��You’re wrong!”

The outburst was so sudden, so unlike the Lucien everyone else spoke of that you had to take a few steps back. Smoke rose from his clenched fists and his skin pulsed, glowing with an inner light like he was more ember than fae.

He blinked rapidly then swore, brushing his salt-stiffened hair back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but…” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have come. He didn’t come. He just left me and my mother there with that monster. He must have known what it was like — the things he did to her and the rest of us — but he never showed up. Not for my mother. Not for me.”

“He didn’t know.”

You repeated those words with the same conviction you had for everything else you knew to be true. You stepped closer and with the slope of the beach you could face him eye-to-eye.

“Do you want to know how I know? My mother wanted nothing to do with him when she found out she was pregnant. He had to hear it from one of the healers. And when I was born she forbade him from visiting, forbade him from even laying eyes on me, but he couldn’t stay away. He found ways to be in my life and protected me as best he could, and when Mom died and I was left on my own, he gave me projects with purpose so I wouldn’t crumble into nothing.” You stabbed your finger against your chest. “He did that for me. Is he a great father? Absolutely not. Is he a decent father? Maybe? Probably not, he wasn’t there most of the time. But he’s trying. I know it’s not the same and we’re still strangers and I understand if you don’t forgive him for abandoning your mother — I wouldn’t — but he would have gone for you.”

You were breathing hard now. Lucien just stared with shiny eyes and unclenched fists.

“And I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know what it’s like to have a father who at least tries.”

The world was too small right now. It was too big. The Sidra had soaked through your skin and your robes were growing heavier and heavier by the second, weighed down by salt water and time.

“Would you at least consider telling him? Please?”

Because another pathetic daydream you’d been thinking of recently was that one day it might be you and Helion and Lucien. An imperfect family, but a family nevertheless. That you might not feel so alone anymore.

Lucien’s throat bobbed and he turned away from you long enough for the crisp wind to dry his tears.

“Take off your robes. They must be soaked by now. I’ll make sure you don’t go cold.'” His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll look for more stones. No sister of mine is going to go through life without learning how to skip stones.”

He threw that word around so casually — sister — like saying it over and over again would somehow make the hundreds of years you’d both spent on your own disappear.

Clouds gathered steadily overhead painting the world with a wash of grey. But that did nothing to diminish the faint light that emanated from you and Lucien as you waded through the shallows and finally learned to skip stones. Lucien whooped, red hair streaming behind him, and you smiled as your last stone skipped twice over the river before disappearing beneath the surface.

You leaned back in the tall, dying grasses and sipped on the cardamom tea Elain brought down from the House, listening to the many stories Lucien had gathered over centuries spent traversing Prythian and the Human Lands. You told him about The Alcove, Cherp, your mother, and the books you read, and he listened like it was the most epic tale he’d heard in his entire life.

Sometimes you both went quiet. It was sobering to think about what you’d both endured alone without your true family. But still… it was good to have one another now.

When you walked into the packed dining room — barefoot, salt-stained, and rosy from the cold — Lucien pulled out the seat next to him for you, surprising the grey Ione.

Elain dropped gracefully into the chair across from her mate, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good day?”

You and Lucien glanced at one another. His golden eye whirred and his russet eye gleamed mischievously.

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing down the smile that threatened to make its appearance. “The worst.”

“You’re just upset because you lost,” Lucien teased, casually draping his arm over your shoulder.

“It was hardly a fair competition. You must have — what? — five-hundred years of experience against me?”

He clasped a hand over his chest. “You wound me, sister. Although, if you must know, I’m four hundred and seventeen.”

“I’m surprised you’re not a sack of bones on the floor.”

“I’m not that old.”

“I think I see a few grey hairs here and there.”

Lucien scoffed, but everyone noticed when he absentmindedly touched his long red locks as the last of the dinner plates materialized on the table. Feyre reached over from beside Lucien and squeezed his hand tightly under the table.

It wasn’t the drop of Helion’s magic that caused The High Lady’s eyes to glow so brightly. She was just happy. Lucien squeezed her hand back even tighter.

Azriel was the last to arrive, appearing in the hallway in a swath of shadows like he was stepping out of one of your dreams. He must have flown home today. Mist gathered into droplets that clung to his skin and hair and eyelashes like a thousand diamonds. Not even the faint shadows beneath his eyes could distract from his beauty, and you felt that familiar wash of comfort flow over your body when you caught his scent.

There was only one available seat left at the table. The one directly across from you and Lucien… and right next to Elain.

Your stomach dropped.

The seating arrangement was truly a horrible coincidence. One that no one seemed to recognize until it was too late and Azriel’s chair was screeching over the wooden floor. Both he and Elain shifted in their seats, quietly pulling them further apart. It should have made you feel better that Azriel was trying so hard to distance himself from Elain, but the only thing it emphasized was that they’d used to be so close.

Cassian looked over nervously at his brother, but Azriel was as impassive as always. The room fell into uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the clinking of silverware. If the House was a person, they would be sweating buckets.

Cassian coughed and sipped his wine. “So… lovely weather we’re having.”

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, followed by rain that began plummeting to the earth in heavy sheets.

Rhysand leaned over and smacked his brother on the back of his head and Cassian couldn’t even feign annoyance at that.

“You never fail to have incredible timing, Cassian.” Lucien drank his wine deeply and some of the tension seemed to lift from the table when everyone noticed how happy he still was. The terrible things in the world had not lessened, but Lucien felt lighter than he had in decades.

In proper Helion fashion, he kept the pleasant conversation spinning over the table, ensnaring you with the stories he tossed back and forth with Feyre.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be crazy enough to try and capture a Suriel?”

“What? Like it was meant to be difficult?”

Lucien smirked and crossed his arms. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What were the second and third times then?”

“The Suriel being a terrible busybody who was bored and wanted to spill gossip.”

Feyre flipped him off and he winked in return.

Azriel did what he always did and sat still and quiet as a mouse, eyes tracing over the flow of conversation like he knew who would speak before they’d even opened their mouths. But his eyes kept lingering on you, a smile tugging at his lips whenever one grew on yours.

Lucien noticed it the third time it happened. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Until he found himself watching the Shadowsinger almost as intensely as Azriel was watching you.

His grip tightened around his silverware.

“I am not nearly as uptight as Gwyn says I am,” you muttered, pushing around the potatoes on your plate.

You’d sunk into your seat when, to your embarrassment, the conversation had steered in your direction. Azriel had been the one to do it, casually dropping a comment about how much time you spent in Cagniv Library and the ways in which you’d already influenced the priestesses who operated there. It was the first thing he’d said all day.

“You made a fifth year apprentice cry.”

“That’s a lie, Nesta, and you know it.”

Nesta did know it, but you’d been so quiet the past few weeks. She wanted to poke fun if only to make you smile.

“Fine, that was an exaggeration. But you interrogated Farrah like she was a war criminal. Azriel would have been impressed.”

“She’s the only expert on Cyerion Age Bauldish folklore and she was missing half the citations for her thesis! It took me ages to track down some of her sources.”

“She can’t cite a book that’s over 2,000 years old with no identifiable author. Or title. Or publishing date.”

You grumbled under your breath. Something about, “Your library gives me anxiety” and “You’re making me look bad in front of Lucien.”

“Hmmm? Sorry?” Lucien tore his eyes away from where one of Azriel’s shadows had slid under the table and was now wrapping around the leg of your chair in an effort to gain your attention.

You shook your head. “Nesta’s just trying to make me look bad.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Azriel said softly, so softly he probably hadn’t even meant to say the words aloud. He looked up from his plate, shocked to hear his own voice continue on. “Maybe after this is all done, you could take on the task of reorganizing Cagniv. I’m sure you’d be saving the next Librarian more than a few headaches.”

Your wide eyes met his across the table and for a brief moment it was like you two were alone and teasing each other over tea in the middle of the night like you used to. Two shadows illuminated by candlelight in a Court that never slept.

You sat up a little straighter. “Is that a challenge?”

Azriel smiled faintly, “Maybe. Although I’m sure Bryaxis would give you a run for your money.”

You furrowed your brows. “Bryaxis?”

Rhys smirked, “He’s the resident shadow demon that lives on the bottom floor of Cagniv. He flew down once on a dare and he high-tailed it out of the abyss white as a sheet. He still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Fuck you for bringing that up, Rhys.” Cassian’s hand trembled as he brought his fork up to his lips, “You’ll never let me live that down will you?”

“You… you have a shadow demon living in your library?” Your face twisted in horror and you slammed your knife down on the table, “Is that why a third of the catalogue is missing from the shelves? I’ve been searching for ages!”

And there it was — that faint twitch of irritation in your eyes that told Azriel you were already contemplating going down to confront Bryaxis yourself. He could imagine how you’d stand there with a hand tucked into your robes, swinging a lantern from the other as you bullied the monster into letting you move the volumes someplace else. How you’d lecture him on the importance of controlling humidity when it comes to parchment preservation, and perhaps how you’d begrudgingly agree that the creature’s darkness had protected the fragile books from light exposure.

“I knew that’s what you’d focus on,” Azriel said. His voice was deeper than an ocean, and just as full of hidden meaning. He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile gracing his lips. “You just learned you spent months studying with a monster lurking nearby — a monster that has Cassian trembling in the corner—”

“I am not trembling—”

“And you’re not afraid at all. You’re… you’re incredible, Y/n.”

You pursed your lips, tamping down the delight that threatened to spill over inside of you like champagne bubbles — light and airy and lovestruck. With only a handful of sentences, Azriel had you wishing that everyone else would just leave. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as Azriel kept looking at you. It was a quiet, intimate undressing without an inch of skin needing to be revealed.

A tendril of shadow creeped up your arm and tugged your hair. The rest hovered shyly over a bag you recognized as Azriel’s, as if they knew they’d done wrong by ferrying it over from their master’s bedroom. But the timing was so perfect, how could they not?

With you watching, they tugged open the strings and spilled the contents on the floor.

To Lucien’s surprise, Azriel’s notorious stone-face went flush with color when he heard the thud of books and realized what his shadows had done.

“Wait—Y/n—” His chair groaned in protest when he shot to his feet.

But you were already holding them in your hands.

The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. Your favorite books in the entire world. Two copies each. One brand new, and one whose pages were already flared, leather spines lovingly wrinkled.

Your breath caught in your throat when you flipped through Three Knocks for a Kiss and saw Azriel’s delicate scrawl on every page. Passages had been circled and underlined with his comments left in the margins. Small tabs of paper poked out with more handwritten notes.

Azriel’s been reading these over and over again for months now. He bought them a week after you came to Velaris because he remembered you liked books that are well loved and full of memory. The nights he couldn’t sleep and dream of you, he’d perch on his windowsill and read until morning came. You’ve given him a peace he’s never known before.

A kind of peace you thought you’d been alone in feeling.

The scent of night-chilled mountains and parchment paper filled your nose.

Azriel bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes focused on your hands now clutching the books like they were gold.

“I remembered seeing them in your apartment. I was going to give them to you at some point but…” Azriel trailed off, then whispered. “I remember what you told me about your mother reading them to you.” I remember everything you’ve told me.

“I can keep them?” Your voice was a hush over the room.

You cradled them protectively against your chest, as if at any moment they’d be torn away from you. You’d been hesitant to buy new copies after the original ones had been burned down in the Alcove. Part of their charm had always been the memories of your mother reading them aloud like they were flowers growing from her lips instead of words, buzzing and honey-laden. The books felt different now, but they still felt like something. They weren’t sterile and blank. They were filled with Azriel and all the good memories he carried with him. Few and far between as they were.

“They’re yours,” Azriel breathed, “All yours.”

Lucien looked back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the wetness in your eyes and the thinly veiled adoration in Azriel’s face now that you were looking back at him. A sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him throughout dinner, but he’d repressed it. He couldn’t repress it any longer.

No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He let his shock flow through the bond and looked to Elain for confirmation.

Please tell me I’m wrong. He begged silently. Anyone but him. Literally anyone but him.

They’d yet to accept the bond, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t read each other like an open book. And right now Lucien was doing nothing to hide his seething temper.

Elain bit her pale, pink lips and nodded, confirming what he already suspected. Then, in a move of silent permission, she slid her chair six inches away from Azriel’s until she was practically sharing a seat with Nesta.

“Here we go again,” Nesta groaned and looked at Cassian. You want to get her?

Yeah I got her.

You straightened up, pressing the books to your chest in confusion. What had started off as a graciously uneventful dinner had turned into a moment of beauty that you wanted to preserve for a little while longer.

But everyone around you parted, leaning back in their chairs and pulling glasses of wine off the table before draining them in one long chug. Even Ione held her plate in her hands, popping a tomato in her mouth with interest. Mor looked nervous clutching a sweaty bottle of wine against her chest. Feyre and Rhys looked resigned and Lucien… Lucien looked livid. After all, he owed Azriel for the Blood Duel.

Cassian hoisted you out of your seat with his arms wrapped firmly around your middle and stepped back and out of the way.

Your eyes widened when Lucien stood up, skin rippling with light and power. He calmly rolled back his sleeves revealing muscular, scarred forearms, then took off his rings one by one and dropped them on the table.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He wanted to feel it when he beat the Shadowsinger to a pulp.

Oh… Oh shit.

“Wait—Lucien!”

Lucien gritted his teeth and launched himself over the table.

Azriel didn’t flinch. His hazel eyes didn’t even flicker in surprise. In fact, you swore you saw them flutter closed in acceptance.

In another fight, Azriel might have had the advantage of wings and height, but Lucien had the wider build and the fucking motive. He slammed into the Shadowsinger’s chest and together they disappeared beneath the lip of the table before landing in a sprawl on the floor that knocked the air out of Azriel’s lungs.

Cassian winced when he heard the first of Lucien’s blows land.

“Let me go!” You kicked and squirmed in his grip, but you would have had more luck fighting a mountain. “Cassian, what the fuck?!”

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. But even I have to admit he had this coming.” There was another bloody crack. “Oh damn that sounds like it hurt.”

“Honestly, I didn't know he had it in him,” was Nesta’s only comment. Ione moved to stand beside the eldest Archeron sister so she could get a better view, a faintly amused smile on her face.

“I did,” Elain said simply. That was one of the many things she and Lucien had in common. Their general patience and understanding could only stretch so far before snapping. “Ione, perhaps you should go upstairs.”

The older woman looked offended. “Why? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Such drama.”

When Helion had fought Azriel, there’d been an elegance to it — something altogether noble about the event as the two stared each other down as equals.

This was nothing like that.

Lucien was pissed and even Azriel had to admit that he really, really deserved this one.

Lucien’s chest heaved, every blow of his fists against Azriel’s face punctuated by snarling words.

“First you go after my mate—” Punch. “Then my sister—” Punch. Punch. “Are you—” Punch. “Fucking—” Punch. “Kidding me?!”

The last blow sent Azriel’s head snapping back hard enough to crack the floor tiles. Blood splattered from his nose like a spray of paint lobed at a canvas and Azriel knew from his sudden inability to breath that it was broken.

“Lucien! Stop it!”

“We just redid the tiles,” Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temples.

Lucien growled and grabbed Azriel by the front of his leathers, throwing him over and onto the table. The long mahogany table, shiny and expensive as hell, snapped in two with a deafening bang. Silverware flew into the air, catching the light like holiday tinsel. Porcelain plates shattered and Azriel finally groaned in pain from the harsh twisting of his wings. The fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court could only lay there as green peas rolled down on top of him, gravy sinking into his hair.

“Not the table too,” Rhys whined. He’d had it specially commissioned for the River House.

Lucien dragged Azriel off the glorified heap of wood chips before tossing him back onto the floor, fist raised in the air.

“Alright! That’s enough,” Feyre said with a loud clap of her hands. “If you two want to fight, do it outside. I don’t want anyone breaking my house. Again.”

The River House sighed in relief.

Lucien paused just long enough for Rhysand to haul the redhead off his brother with little regard for anyone’s pride.

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shoving Rhys away. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

When Cassian finally let you down, you rushed over to Azriel’s side, swiping the handkerchief Rhys held out for you as you passed.

Azriel sat on the floor, face impassive despite the brutal angle of his nose and the blood sprayed over his face and neck. You cradled his face, gently nudging it this way and that as you surveyed the damage.

“Oh Azriel,” you breathed.

Bruises bloomed over his cheekbones, muddy as paint water. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his split lips bled anew when he gave you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he murmured reverently, leaning against the palm you cupped beneath his jaw.

Lucien gagged. “Can someone rip my eye out again? Both this time, please?”

“Damnit, Lucien!” You held the handkerchief up to Azriel’s nose, trying to stem the flow of blood before it could continue dripping from his chin. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Really, Y/n?! You’re defending him?!”

Azriel wrapped one arm protectively around your waist, eyes narrowed in a glare. With the blood coating his face he looked positively murderous. Like he’d done the beating and not Lucien.

“Don’t yell at her,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.

“For fuck’s sake.”

It had been a momentary outburst — a rare occurrence with Lucien that held no anger towards you. But you still felt the flare of Azriel’s power as shadows wrapped around you in a layer so thick you couldn’t see past your waist.

“Azriel—” You didn’t want another fight. “It's ok.”

“No. It’s not.”

Lucien was a mixed bag of emotions and he felt a dozen of them go off at the same time like fireworks. There was rage at the male who had the audacity to lay a hand on you, who’d hurt you if the rumours in Velaris were true. A bitter desire for revenge that still lay heavy on his hands after the utter hell he’d gone through watching Azriel and Elain for years. Protectiveness over you — his sister. And a tiny sliver of shame that grew every time you prodded the Shadowsinger’s bent nose and winced.

“Do you know?” Lucien’s voice shook.

“Do I know what, Lucien?”

He swore and looked at everyone in turn. The members of the Inner Circle were trying their damned hardest not to meet his eyes, nervously angling their gaze towards the ground or out the windows like the evening fog was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Fucking hell. You didn’t know.

Lucien reached down over your shoulder, grabbed Azriel’s nose and shoved it back into place with a loud pop.

You cringed at the sound, but Azriel didn’t react. He was well acquainted with pain and knew how to hide it.

He breathed through his reset nose, touching the swore flesh gingerly. “Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Lucien!”

He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Elain chose that moment to quietly slide her hand into his from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder so he was surrounded by the smell of wildflowers. She tapped the center of his chest, right where he’d told her he felt anchored by the bond, and then looked pointedly to where you kneeled on the ground in between Azriel’s legs.

And Azriel… Azriel looked lost to the world. Centuries spent relegated to the shadows as a Spymaster had wiped away his feelings, at least outwardly. But everyone could plainly see the way he kept his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your warm skin and the settling of his breathing the longer you held onto his jaw with careful fingers.

Of all the people. It had to be him.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways,” Elain whispered so only her mate could hear.

“Unfortunately for me.”

Lucien took in a ragged breath and clenched his fists, waiting for the worst of his anger to fade away before he collected the books back into the discarded bag and held it out for you.

A peace offering.

You pulled Azriel back onto his feet, keeping one hand firmly clasped in his, and glared at your brother. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” And he meant it.

Your lips flattened. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Azriel?”

His mismatched eyes flared with irritation when they flickered to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel stood quietly at your side, his face a motley of red, purple, and blue. Still handsome though, much to Lucien’s annoyance.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He deserved it. I’m just sorry you had to witness it.” Lucien hesitated, then said, “Y/n, I’m not usually like this. I don’t want you to think poorly of me just because of… him.” It was taking everything within him not to use more colorful language to describe the Shadowsinger. “It won’t happen again… unless you ask me to… which I hope you do.”

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know what anger looked like painted on your features, or sadness, and he didn’t want to. So, it was a pleasant surprise when you only rolled your eyes and muttered, “First Helion and now you. Fucking males,” before slinging the bag over your shoulder and tugging Azriel towards your room.

The Shadowsinger trailed after you without a second thought, heart hammering away in his chest.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

LET'S GO BIG BROTHER LUCIEEEEENNNNNNNNN

Y'all I had so much fucking fun writing the Lucien/Azriel fight scene. And to think that for a hot second I considered not writing it because I was worried it would be too repetitive to have Azriel get his ass beaten by both Helion and Lucien. Azriel, you poor, poor man, I'm sorry to have put you through all this. But also I'm not sorry at all.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts!

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #y/n x inner circle #reader x inner circle #reader x lucien #lucien x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra has my whole heart #i will fight anyone who says anything bad about him #ugh but writing the sibling dynamic between Y/n and Lucien where he's so excited and she's so worried the whole time #SADJF BCALSIGEHRJFKJANDSBHGUFI #just Lucien vanserra

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stevie-petey · 8 months

Text

episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. “Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chest and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve’s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem, your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dart just wanted a quick snack guys #also dustin n bug are so so so sibling rn #i love em

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monicaeidolith · 2 months

Text

it's been 8 years and she's still down bad for her neighbor (who wouldn't)

and so there she is: Step 3 Athena! 🌙✨

Step 1 & Step 2 here

(Infos about Athena in every steps except 4 below if you're interested)

(watch out it's long.)

Step 1 -

At 10, Athena is a very curious girl, somewhat nosey and a bit clumsy (main reason why she often has bandages). She likes puzzles, creepy stuff and drawing (but nothing that serious about that hobby yet). While she isn't very shy, she's still uneasy around people she doesn't know and moving to a new town isn't helping. She has trouble accepting changes, and this whole situation is a way too big change.

Athena is very close to her mom during step 1. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't really look like her that much and she's kind of bothered by that, especially because the person she obviously looks like, her "dad", isn't there. Not having a dad isn't really a huge problem for her, but Athena fears a little bit people's opinion on that subject: "Is it weird that I don't have a dad...?".

She's feeling sad and scared about moving out, as she has to get used to a completely different world (in her eyes). "At least I have my mom", she thinks. But if moving in Golden Grove was scary at first, meeting Qiu and Tamarack was a huge help for Athena to feel included.

She thinks Qiu, aka "Autumn", is funny but also a huge show-off, haha. She LOVES to tease Qiu. But Athena's also genuinely worried about Qiu sometimes, because that kid is a huge people-pleaser.

When it comes to Tamarack, man... Athena totally puts this girl on a pedestal. She thinks Tamarack is amazing and pretty. And should Tamarack say anything positive about Athena, you can be certain the latter will go crazy internally. At 10, Athena doesn't realize she actually has a huge crush on Tamarack yet, though.

Step 2 -

At 14, Athena became a sort of troublemaker, she barely cares about rules. She's not mean but she grew to be more blunt and direct than she was as a 10-year-old, this and her current appearance make her seem unapproachable. However she kept her soft side, a side that she ironically doesn't even keep that much hidden but that you still have to deserve. If at 10 she would often have bandages because of her clumsiness, at 14, it's mostly because she's reckless. Some things that remained are her love for puzzles, creepy stuff and drawing, in fact, she started to get interested in visual arts.

In fact, the tough side of her personality grew when her first group friends with Qiu and Tamarack slowly fell apart. She couldn't do anything to prevent that from happening, so she felt like she had to toughen up. But to be honest, she's becoming tired of being the sole link between them, she's barely trying to now. Maybe Qiu and Tamarack won't become friends again. She has to accept it... but maybe Athena still has troubles accepting changes, no matter how old she is, after all.

Despite all that, Athena still treats both of them nicely. She still teases Qiu whenever she can (watch out Athena, the teasing could backfire on you). Her worries about them are still present too, but for different reasons than in step 1. Even 4 years later, Athena still retrieve Qiu's lost papers because they would NOT do it themselves. No matter what, Autumn remains her dear friend and the feeling is mutual.

Tamarack, aka "Tam", is her best friend! ... and the girl she has a crush on, Athena realized it now. Athena doesn't know if Tam feels the same way or not, though. Athena still thinks Tamarack is the most amazing and most talented person out there, she wishes Tam could see it too. She's highly worried about Tamarack potentially leaving Golden Grove at any moment but she tries to hide it from Tamarack. "Tam probably has enough of people walking on eggshells with her", she thinks. Athena dislikes Tamarack's parents for not only never being there for their daughter but also for making her situation so uncertain, only for their own interests (in her eyes).

Another feeling started to grow: jealousy. Athena will feel jealous of anyone who seems a bit too close to Tamarack. Does she think she's no match for Tamarack? Yes. Does that stop her from being jealous? No. She knows she has no right to be, Tamarack is a wonderful girl, it's impossible not to like her, but she can't help it.

Athena grew to be even more bothered by her lack of resemblance with her mother. Some times before turning 14, she started to dye her hair cranberry, just like her mom's hair color (let's say Opal didn't really like to see that her daughter started dyeing her hair at her young age, reaction Athena didn't appreciate, all she wanted was to look like her mom, what's the problem?). Ironically, while Athena wishes so hard to look like her mom, her relationship with her became somewhat strained. As if resembling a completely unknown guy wasn't enough. Living his best life nowhere to be found, uh? Resentment is the word here. Never towards her mom, even if their relationship is not that good at this point, but towards this guy who gave her his physical traits she never wanted and started to despise.

At least she became used to live in Golden Grove.

Step 3 -

At 18, Athena is not the rough troublemaker that she was at 14 anymore. Now she's more like a silly prankster, seemingly always up to something more stupid than before, although she remains reckless and blunt (but less on purpose and more out of habit). Of course, her interest in visual arts remained intact. Her liking for creepy stuff turned into a huge love for horror and its aesthetic.

Her relationship with her mom is getting better than it was 4 years ago. Athena grew out of the resentment she had for her "dad" during step 2 and learned to accept she may not look that much like her mom, but that it doesn't cancel the fact she's Opal's daughter no matter how she looks. Plus "some bits of [Opal] did end up in [her]" after all, right?

Athena's relationship with Autumn is what you could describe as "siblings by hearts", Athena does consider them as the sibling she never had.

Athena and Tamarack are still officially "besties for life", but little do they know that they both ended up falling in love with each other, plain and simple.

Her jealousy and resentment did tone down, but when she thinks back to her 14-year-old self, she feels bad, so bad. For being jealous of Tamarack's friends, for being resentful of a random donor and basically making many things about herself. "Man, I was such a prick. And for what?".

If when she was 14, Athena felt like she was no match for Tamarack because she put Tam on a pedestal, at 18, she now thinks she's simply not good enough as a person for Tamarack. She kind of "accepted" that if Tamarack only wants to be friends, then it's fine, she cannot force Tam to love her back. It's silly to think someone like her could be extra-special in Tam's heart anyway (girl if you knew.), it's nice enough to be her best friend.

Between step 2 and 3, Athena managed to put a label on herself: she's lesbian.

#I hope her story isn't too wacky or simply poorly written aha #also I hope there isnt any typo I havent seen #some parts sound like I was writing a fic from Athena's POV lmao #english is not my first language can you tell #tbh with y'all I didn't really want to add the jealousy option in my story at first #but it grew on me when I remembered the *MC* could be jealous too and realized it could add depth to Athena's character #she can and will be a cringe and petty teenager #I'm not even sure all my little story about Athena feeling like the worst piece of shit ever for her behavior during step 2 #could be even mentionned in the final game but I'll keep it as is until further notice #I admit I want to stick to canon as much as possible but I'll treat myself on this one #“siblings by hearts” really feels like I'm taking the “family” status too literally but I swear I'm not #about Tam and Athena I like when the slowburn is slowing hard #and when they're too stupid for this world #our life now and forever #olnf #tamarack baumann #qiu lin #olnf mc #athena suzuki #my drawing

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hamletshoeratio · 3 months

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In season 4, I demand more Benedict and Hyacinth interactions. Gregory's off to school, Anthony and Kate are off to India, Eloise and Francesca are off to Scotland, the other two have married and moved out, so these two are the last ones under Violet's roof, I love what we've gotten of them but I need more bonding scenes. They're both hilarious and completely unhinged at times, I need more of this chaotic sibling duo.

#bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #casting department popped off with these two because they look like actual siblings #plus with probably another 2 year wait & based on previous patterns hyacinth will be debuting next #wouldn't mind a slowburn of her and gareth as a sideplot ngl with lady danbury #but i hope they don't do an exact copy paste of the past seasons structure #by s3 the debutante introduction getting old #worked for s1 introduced us to the world shopstopping #s2 which was delayed due to covid helped bring us back into the world #s3 - other than debuting francescas new actress and qcs reactions - its getting tired #they don't have to and shouldn't do the exact same way a 4th time #hell start s4 at aubrey hall pre season have kate anthony & benedict there as violet goes off to london to prepare the masquerade ball #have benedict look for a place of his own which will become my cottage as he tries to figure out what his future will look like #then have him meet sophie and then send them back to london for the season #the season doesn't really matter for benedict & sophie's story anyhow #I've got wildly off topic lmao

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mooneggtarts · 21 days

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If there's one thing that can beat my love for ships it's found family/sibling tropes idk what to tell you guys

Literally most of my fav shows has the protags with at least siblings or the whole family as the main casts. Even better. Tragic doomed siblings/found family yessss

#if I saw sibling/family angst sign me UP!!!#slowburn found family? even BETTER

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heartsgettingwiser62 · 2 years

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I just NEED a s5 scene where Jancy is talking about how dumb Mike and Will are being and how they could resolve their problems if they just talked, and then another scene where Byler is talking about how dumb Nancy and Jonathan are being and how they could resolve their problems if they just talked, none of them realizing that the things they're calling out could also apply to themselves

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juniperhillpatient · 3 months

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I hate “love at first sight” or like instant infatuation in most cases but I think it’s a trope that CAN be done super well it just rarely is. there’s nothing exciting or interesting about two hot people who see each other & instantly fall in love all by itself nonsensically like idk I just don’t believe in that & find it dull. but there’s a way to do it where it’s like “YEAH that makes perfect sense” like two people who suffered something brief but absolutely insane together & can never let go of the thought of one another or someone who saw someone else do something crazy or really fucking cool or stupid & can’t let it go or someone totally isolated who’s decided to make the first person they’ve interacted with or who helped free them into this total savior who walks on water like it CAN be such a neat trope you just gotta sell it right.

#romance #I like to think I did it well with azula & katara in scream au #I mean they had seen each other before they went to the same school they just didn’t think about each other before That Night #it’s probably the only time I’ll write that instant infatuation for them #instant obsession sure but the romance should typically be slowburn for Azutara imo #anyway what this is actually about is my original WIP #I think Alice’s instant obsession with Nick makes perfect sense #given she’s a hopeless romantic & he’s a hot guy & the first person who’s not her sibling that she’s interacts with in 30 years #& he’s a journalist who’s parents just died of course he’s instantly obsessed with the beautiful ghost girl who proves #theres life beyond death & also introduces him to an intricate mystery that gets his investigative blood flowing #stairway #I need to post about this project even if only like 2 of you are reading it #it keeps me myself invested ok #this blog is really just a diary

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habibialkaysani · 9 months

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listen I know I am way too late to this party and also have been living under a rock doing serious™ shit for most of 2023, but over the xmas holidays kathony has awakened something in me. like it is full on embarrassing how much kathony fic I have read in the wee hours of the morning. but I also can't wait to rewatch it.

#yes i have become a bridgerton fan #pls don't judge me lol #it's low maintenance while still being thrilling does that make any sense?#well thrilling in its sheer horniness #i love a good slowburn enemies to lovers #and i don't seek out the sibling dynamic but i always find that that hits the hardest for me #and i'm here for the drama #most of all i am here for s3 #if i manage to find somewhere decent to download the eps from you may see bridgerton gifs from me #fair warning #me.txt #bridgerton #me @ kathony: you are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires #/seriously where is the lie

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goarwago · 1 month

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My Sister's -in-Laws(NedCer)-AU - Chapter 18-Part-1 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1470822813-my-sister%27s-in-laws-nedcer-au-chapter-18-part-1?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=goarwago When she reached down, the bedroom door was open, and it seemed someone was occupying the room; that thought frightened her if she wasn't alone yesterday night. She heard a loud sound coming from the bathroom opposite the bedroom, held her broom tightly ready to swing it in the intruder's face when the door opened, she swung it and screamed, making the intruder jump and shouted back, the broom hit the door. "What the hell! do you want to kill me?"Nedim shooted; Ceren was shocked when she saw him "What the hell are you doing here?" "What the hell are you doing here ?" Nedim replied angrily. When two people hate each other to the guts and stick in one place for 14 days, could their isolation change their feelings from hatred to love?

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valyrfia · 1 year

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just reread the mortal instruments for the first time in like seven (?) years and like it's fine and all but the concept would've been so much more interesting in the hands of a queer author

#expand tags to read more lmao #the mortal instruments #anti cassandra clare #my take with any body of work tbh #alec is my favourite but also very much gives Tortured Gay Written By Straight #clary should've ended up with simon (à la peeta mellark effect)#i love jace but he loses all personality as the love interest #also i will live breathe and die on the jalec hill they should've got the storyline that emma and julian did #the fact that the forbidden parabatai love story was given to a STRAIGHT couple is absolutely ridiculous #also i fucking hate malec it seemed so romantic when i was like 15 but now i cannot read it without thinking of my first relationship #ie. young and inexperienced me VS. what may not legally be grooming but technically is #à la rhys and feyre i HATE this immortal falling in love with a teenage mortal bs #red flag #magnus is also a gay character written for straight people #like he's fine but he's not giving yknow #i just relate a lot to alec and hate how him and magnus are so romanticised #IT SHOULD'VE BEEN JACE #imagine how good a jace and alec slowburn would've been in the last three books #talking of gay shit get izzy a girlfriend (and have it be me)#i jest but not - all of the lightwood siblings are gay wbk #clary is their token straight #all this to say give this idea to ME not to the ex ron x ginny author #anyway rant over #some teenage books live up to the hype (hunger games) and some don't (these)

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theprinceandthewitch · 3 months

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Me complaining abt IDV fans lack of media literacy for the 9450th time this week lmao:

What I find most annoying about people's interpretation about Alice's and Orpheus' relationship [other than the siblings interpretation to not be true. Like at all. Seriously it's not backed up by any canonical evidence] is that people are ignoring the blatant romantic undertones.

Most IDV fans tend to be anime fans, because the game will sometimes collab with different anime franchises to make new character cosmetics. This is how IDV gets it's new players. So, people are used to that cringey ahh blushing and stuttering shit you see in anime - they're used to seeing overt displays of romantic interest.

Since Orpheus and Alice do not display obvious interest when they're in each others presence people have a hard time seeing their relationship as romantic. Picking up of subtly is not not their strong suit.

To put it simply: This is a slowburn kind of romance. Alice's feelings for Orpheus have yet to develop into full blown romantic interest [IF they ever will]. While Orpheus is interested in Alice romantically - and I do think he has loved her since they were kids. So far, the writing is pretty blatant when it comes to Orpheus' feelings for Alice.

This is why I don't like people using that one letter as proof he sees her as a sibling. Identity V's story is structured with a slowburn romance in mind... the Orpheus and Eurydice parallels aren't here just for decoration. Their story is most likely going to end in tragedy because of the genre they happen to occupy. But the thing is: Orpheus and Alice getting a happy ending isn't really relevant. What is relevant is that their relationship is clearly being written with romance in mind. This letter is just another point of development in their romance, which is laced with tragedy.

That's why I'm not going to take anyone seriously when they use this as proof they're supposed to be siblings.

Even with that letter, the narrative still DOESN'T want you to see them as siblings.

I rlly don't see how we are supposed to interpret his feelings for Alice as strictly platonic when they have the Orpheus and Eurydice parallels...

Even though this was ambiguous in AoM: My personal interpretation of that scene where Orpheus calls Alice "Eurydice" is actually Orpheus calling her back to consciousness. It's not a memory of him - it's Orpheus from AoM calling out to her. I'll go even further to say that that's what they were going for, since Orpheus has always been the thing preventing her from completely falling into the "underworld."

Oh right, he also sees her as his nightingale... and his WIFE...

It's like... at this point the sibling interpretation is just copium.

#identity v #i hate being here LMAO #the ppl who say ''Orpheus and Alice are siblings!'' lie just as easily as they breathe #oh god... they don't know... they don't know Orpheus and Alice are on a slowburn romance journey #which will most likely end in tragedy bc of the genre the game's in lol

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stevie-petey · 9 months

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episode seven: the bathtub

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.” Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.” Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help. And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon. He’s had a really rough week.

summary: your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/b, implications of death and violence

words: 10.2k

before you swing in: hello ! long time no see, i apologize :/ working while im home for winter break and my hours suck, but we move on ! heres chapter 7, she was a pain to write because it was more complex than i thought, but i love her dearly </3 enjoy !

When you finally get to the police station, exhausted and sweaty from running, an angry blond woman is following after Hopper as he guides Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan towards his cruiser.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about that toothless kid and his weird friends?” She screams at the officer, but he just ignores her and instructs the others to get into the car.

A toothless kid and his weird friends? Gee, you wonder who the woman could be talking about.

You get to the car right as Hopper has started the engine. You knock on the window and he sighs when he sees it’s you. He rolls down the window. “Why is it always you?”

“I think it’s time you learn that wherever he goes,” you point towards Jonathan, who smiles at the chief, and then you point at yourself. “I go.”

“She’s right.” Joyce mumbles from the passenger seat.

Hopper places his head in his hands and sighs once more. “We don’t have time for this. Step away from the car. Now.”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Leave, go home.”

Jonathan speaks up from the backseat. “Hopper, she has to come with us–”

“Where the hell are you guys going? Weren’t you arrested?” You ask, now even more confused.

“Not arrested, just detained.” Joyce corrects.

The officer groans. “Does any of this matter? We need to leave, now.”

“We can leave as soon as you let me in the car.”

Hopper stares at you. “You have no idea what you’re walking into, kid.”

“Try me.”

“Step away from the car–”

“The ‘toothless kid’ that the crazy woman shouted about is my brother!” You shout, entirely over this entire conversation. Like hell this bitter old man is going to stop you from following wherever Jonathan goes. Especially if Dustin is involved somehow.

“I told you, no-”

“I can and will hop on the hood of this damn car if you don’t let me in within the next five seconds.”

Hopper laughs. “Sure ya will.”

“One,” you begin counting.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Two,”

“Uh, Hopper?” Jonathan speaks up. “She’ll do it, you know.”

“Three,”

Hopper doesn’t listen, and now Joyce is getting annoyed. “Hop, just let her in.”

“I kind of want to see her jump on the hood.” Nancy says, causing Jonathan to laugh.

“Four,” you walk to the front of the car and pop your foot up, getting ready to start climbing. If Hopper thinks you aren’t being serious, then that’s his own damn fault. He starts shouting at you to knock it off while Joyce pleads with him to listen to you. Jonathan tries to get out of the car, but Hopper has locked them in. Everyone is arguing and yelling and you’re just ready to say fuck it and straddle a cop car.

Right before you can jump entirely onto the hood of the car, Nancy lurches from the back seat and screams through Hopper’s window, “Y/N, just tell the man about El!”

Everyone freezes; no one says a single word. Slowly, you lower your leg and walk over to the driver’s window once more while Hopper just stares at you. You can’t exactly read the look on his face, but if you had to guess, it’d be something like of course this kid knows about El.

“Who the hell is El?” He demands as soon as you’re back in front of the window.

“Buzzed hair, nose bleeds when she uses her powers, and hangs out with my brother and his friends. Ring any bells?” You ask, a slight smirk on your face because you know you’ve won. Bless Nancy’s quick thinking.

Hopper’s face drops and he lets out a tired sigh. “So, you know about the girl?”

You snort. “Yeah, I know about her. Better yet: I've met her, and I know something awful is about to happen. Let me into the goddamn car. Now.”

The two of you have a stare down for a couple seconds before he finally gives in and unlocks the door. “You’re the worst in the group.”

“Oh, just wait until you hang out with my brother. Now, let’s go for a drive, shall we?”

–

The slight amusement you felt earlier quickly dissipates as Hopper explains everything going on. He explains El, who is really named Jane, and how he had found her mom and learned that some guy named Brenner was conducting experiments on her while she was pregnant. Thus, he created El and her powers and ultimately kidnapped her, leaving her mother to believe that she was dead. Now El has escaped, causing Will’s disappearance, and unfortunately some other horrible consequences.

Said consequences include driving to Nancy’s house because this Brenner guy apparently really wants El back and has gone as far as faking a twelve year old’s dead fucking body. Now he’s currently tracking her and the boys down.

Who knew Hawkins could have anything as exciting as a shady lab and actual men in black coats?

“Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about this girl,” Hopper demands, glaring at you from the rearview mirror as you sit between Nancy and Jonathan.

You do as you’re told, but admittedly there’s not much to tell him. Sure, you know El and have spent some time with her now, but other than that you’re still a bit lost yourself. The details are fuzzy in your mind, a picture has almost formed, but not quite.

As you’re struggling to explain more about the Upside Down to a very frustrated Hopper and a concerned Joyce, a parade of Hawkins Power and Light vans fly past the car and turn onto Nancy’s block. Once again, everyone in the car goes quiet.

“Neighborhood power outage?” You ask, really hoping you’re right, but worry is now creeping in. God, you really need to just stop leaving the kids alone after this week. Dustin was just supposed to see Mike, apologize to Lucas, and have a nice conversation about how friendship is magical and all that bullshit.

It doesn’t look like they did that.

Hopper suddenly jerks the car into a different neighborhood and speeds down the block. The speed scares you and Jonathan grabs your hand, sensing your growing unease. Then, the car brakes and you’re thrown forward by the momentum. “Fuck!”

“Sorry, honey.” Joyce murmurs to you, but the view in front of you catches your attention.

Hopper has brought you guys to an overlook of Nancy’s neighborhood with a perfect view of her house being surrounded by a bunch of expensive cars and men in suits carrying items out from her basement. You see one man holding a stack of your comics with one of Dustin’s old hats on top.

You want to throw up.

Nancy reacts no better than you do and immediately bolts out the car, Hopper and Joyce not far behind her. The man whips out a pair of binoculars and scopes out the scene while Nancy just stands there, stunned. She begins to speak to him, demanding to go into her house, but he doesn’t let her.

You’re left alone with Jonathan in the car and you feel your own panic begin to settle in. Seeing all the cars, the fucking helicopters, after your baby brother… You really, really want to throw up.

You feel yourself begin to spiral. You think about how you’d left Will alone to bike home and how, because of you, he never made it back. Instead he got taken by a monster that’s big enough to kill a fucking deer. Will, small and sweet Will, is gone because of your inability to keep those you love safe.

And now Dustin and the boys are facing the same fate, all because of your stupidity. You left them alone, again, after they’ve spent the entire week sneaking off and getting into trouble. You have no reason to be surprised by their actions. You’re not an idiot, you should’ve known better.

You should’ve known better than to listen to Jonathan about not taking Will home. You should’ve known better about letting the boys explore those woods the night you found El. You should’ve reported the missing girl, called the cops, anything else rather than help hide her.

But because of your stupid, stupid, need to take care of everyone around you, to please everyone no matter what it may cost you, you’re in a cop car as your brother is being hounded down by what appears to be the goddamn FBI.

This is all your fault.

Hopper is saying something to Nancy now, there’s a commotion outside the car door and you know you should go out there and help, but you can’t. Jonathan, seeing the argument outside as well, turns to tell you that he’ll go and help, but stops when sees how pale you’ve gotten and that your leg is bouncing wildly.

He’s known you for years; he knows what you look like right before you have a complete breakdown.

He grabs you and you find yourself engulfed within his chest. His hands come up to your hair and he runs his fingers through it in a way that’s always calmed you down. You find yourself beginning to cry at the tenderness.

“I’m here, bug.” Jonathan whispers the words with his chin tucked atop of your head. He runs a hand up and down your back, drawing small patterns to try and distract you. You don’t fucking deserve the kindness.

You tighten your arms around him, afraid that he’ll slip away just like everything else has. “This is all my fault.”

“You’re crazy if you think that.”

“I was… I was in over my head.” A few tears slip out and you don’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, you bury your head deeper into Jonathan’s chest, ashamed. “This entire time, I should’ve–I needed to be better and I–I wasn’t, bee.”

Your words slur together as more tears come, but Jonathan is able to understand you regardless. He slides a hand up and under your chin, gently coaxing your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “None of this is your fault. You hear me?”

“But–”

“No. Without you, those boys would probably be dead by now. Nancy and I included. You’re the glue holding everything together, you know more than anyone else involved.”

Jonathan’s eyes burn yours, he’s so sure of his words but you know they aren’t true. You pull away from him and try to collect yourself. “There’s an entire swat team ready to hurt my baby brother… I fucked up, Jonathan.”

“Still up for debate, but if you really feel that way, then I’ll help you fix it. It’s as simple as that.” Jonathan shrugs, saying the words so simply, without any doubt or hesitation. He has such confidence in you, and you know he shares the same thought that you do: together, the two of you can do anything.

You think about your birthday gift from Will, with you and Jonathan battling a dragon together with the boys, and the thought brings you comfort. Together, you and the boys will get through this one way or another. You’re sure of that much, at least.

Plus, you have El and Nancy now.

You wipe away a few more tears and manage a smile, now feeling a bit better “Thank you, bee.”

He smiles back at you and ruffles your hair. “Any time, bug.”

The moment between you is broken by Hopper throwing Nancy into the backseat, cruelly bringing you back to reality. The boys, they’re in danger. Hopper turns to face the three of you with a crazed look in his eyes. “Look, we need to find them before they do.”

“The kids?” You stupidly ask.

“No, we’re looking for Santa’s reindeer.” Hopper deadpans, which you honestly had coming. “Yes, the kids. Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”

“No, I don’t!” Nancy still looks shaken up and you and Jonathan don’t look much better.

“I need you to think.” Hopper presses.

Nancy lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean… lately.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Joyce asks, her voice a bit more gentle than Hopper’s.

You wrack your brain for where the kids may have gone, but with all your exhaustion and overwhelming feelings, you can’t come up with anything. Your brain is fried. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Byers.”

“Is there any place that your guys’ parents don’t know about that they might go?”

You and Nancy look at each other for ideas, but you both end up drawing a blank and shake your heads at Joyce. She sighs, but seems to be more understanding. You really wish you could be of more use, but besides Mike’s house, the kids don’t really go anywhere except…

“The junkyard!” You exclaim, throwing yourself forward in your excitement.

“What?” Hopper asks, his interest now is on you.

“The boys went there yesterday with El, they had a fight and–”

Hopper cuts you off. “I don’t need the petty details, just tell me where this junkyard is.”

“I… can’t.” You deflate now, realizing that you have no idea how to access this damn random field in Hawkins. It’s not really an official junkyard, just an area with leftover cars and trash piled up over the years. The boys have never taken you there, it had been the one spot they’d kept all to themselves.

“You can’t?” The man questions, his usual annoyance with you is present once again.

Before an inevitable argument breaks out, Jonathan speaks up. “I don’t know what Y/N is talking about, but I think I know how to ask the kids.”

–

When you get to Jonathan’s to look for Will’s walkie, you’re a bit car sick from Hopper’s damn speeding. You get that this is an urgent matter, but holy shit you feel ill.

You, Jonathan, Joyce, and Nancy hop out the car and start heading towards Will’s room. Jonathan and Joyce guide the way and you’re right behind them until you see Nancy stop in the living room.

“Woah,” she breathes out, examining the room around her. You forget that she’s only been a part of your life for a few days now and hasn’t yet seen the state of chaos that is Jonathan’s house.

“Yeah, welcome to the Byers home.” You say, grabbing her hand to tug her along.

When you get to Will’s room, Jonathan is digging through his drawers while Joyce is on the floor searching underneath his bed. You immediately walk over to the closet and begin sifting through his numerous boxes of comics and drawings.

“I got it!” Joyce announces from under the bed and scrambles into the living room with the walkie in her hand.

You follow after her and sit next to her on the couch. Jonathan stands next to you while Nancy is on your right and Hopper is by the door. Joyce fiddles with the walkie. “Okay, now what?”

“I’ll talk to them.” Nancy says, but you shake your head at her.

“No offense, but I think they’ll respond to me better. I mean, they like me.” Hopper snorts across the room and you close your eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Nancy bites her lip but eventually nods, thankfully understanding what you meant. “Yeah, okay. You should go first, then. They’ve always listened to you more than me.”

Joyce hands you the walkie and you thank her. You look at Hopper and hold the walkie up. “Anything I should specifically say?”

“No, just find out where they are and we’ll go from there.” He commands.

You nod and take a deep breath, silently praying that the idiots will respond both for your own sanity and pride. Exhaling, you bring the walkie to your lips. “Dustin, it’s Y/N. Do you copy?”

Silence, no one responds on the other end and you feel everyone’s eyes on you. “They’re paranoid right now, okay?”

Joyce reassures you that it’s fine while Hopper groans, unimpressed. You silently curse Dustin, who would choose right now to embarrass you and not listen.

You take another deep breath and try again. “Hello? Earth to Dustin and co? Guys, it’s me and I really need you to respond. Immediately. I will start crying if I need to.”

Again, more silence follows. You want to scream and throw the walkie across the damn room, but you keep your composure and try one last time and square your shoulders. You’re aware of Jonathan and the others in the room with you, so you’re dreading having to say this, but you know it’s the only way to get them to respond. ”Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and possibly El: what you’re about to hear is private and so incredibly embarrassing but obviously I have to prove that I’m me so you idiots respond.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen. “You’re not really going to confess to–”

You shush him and keep talking. “Dustin, remember when mom told you that Mews peed on my bed and that’s why I had to stay in your room for the night last year? Well, surprise! It was me. I peed the bed because I had a nightmare after you made me watch Friday the 13th.”

Nancy makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh covered up by a cough and Joyce herself stifles a laugh. Hopper doesn’t even try to hide his laugh and you just really wish the ground would swallow you up. All Jonathan can do is offer you a pitying smile. This is fucking mortifying.

And yet: no one answers.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Listen to me! Either you answer or I have a very annoyed and rude Hopper who would be more than glad to interrogate you boys himself. This is your last chance–”

“Ya know, you really should’ve just used Hopper as a threat from the start. We would’ve listened.” Mike’s voice comes through the walkie, causing you to sigh out with relief.

“Yeah, now we know you peed your pants at fifteen.” Lucas adds.

Then Dustin’s voice carries through. “I’m ashamed to be related to you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Dustin. You’ve always had my back.”

Hopper takes the walkie from you and heads towards his car while demanding directions from Mike. He leaves without saying another word to everyone else, simply leaving you with Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan to wait for his return with the kids.

You wring your hands together, unsure what to do in this situation. So, you do what’s familiar to you; you take care of those around you. “Mrs. Byers, do you still have my baking supplies here?”

–

Steve was having a rough week.

It started with finding you crying in the middle of the road while you were on your bike. At first, he hadn’t been sure it was you, but as you had biked closer and almost hit him, he knew then that you were indeed Y/N Henderson. When you swerved into a ditch to avoid hitting him, Steve did what any rational person would do.

He helped you.

You had been hesitant of him at first, nervous and guarded and Steve couldn’t blame you. Up until then, the two of you hadn’t had the best interactions. He’d always seen you around in the hallways at school, knew about your obsession with comics and Spider-man, and he knew how kind you could be and had witnessed first hand how devoted you were to helping anyone you could, regardless of who they were.

When Steve was in eighth grade and you were in seventh, Carol had bled through her pants and Tommy had been laughing at her and calling her disgusting. Steve hadn’t been much better, honestly, the two of them had reacted how any other idiotic thirteen year olds would. When Carol started to cry, Steve finally felt bad and told Tommy to knock it off and help his girlfriend. It started a whole argument between the two of them, but as they were bickering you swooped in and offered to escort Carol to the bathroom.

He had watched as you delicately took the girl’s hand and said something soft and kind to her as you guys walked to the bathroom. A lanky boy, who had been with you, told you he’d wait by your bike while you were with Carol. You thanked him and then you were gone, the door to the girl’s bathroom closing behind you.

“Who was she?” Steve remembers asking Tommy. He’d been curious about you and your actions, because not even ten minutes before Carol had bled through her pants, she had been making fun of your scuffed sneakers in the lunchroom. She’d been especially viscous back then, and yet you hadn’t hesitated to help her.

“Y/N Henderson. She’s new, moved here a few weeks ago.”

Steve had kept watching the bathroom door, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. “And the boy?”

“Jonathan Byers.” Tommy snickered. “Poor family, complete nobodies. Guess Henderson likes a pity project.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” The door still hadn’t opened, so Steve sighed and motioned to Tommy to follow him. “C’mon, my mom hates waiting for us.”

So, yeah. Your very first interaction with Steve had been you watching him make fun of a poor girl experiencing her first ever period.

Not a very good first impression.

Ever since then, Steve had kept an eye on you. Maybe not consciously, but you’d always been in his peripheral. He’d seen all the times you helped someone, from teachers to the local stoner kid, Eddie Munson, who needed a pen for his exam so you’d given him your only one and ultimately couldn’t take your own exam. Steve had always wanted to ask if you regretted that, but he was sure you’d say no. It’s just what you did.

He watched as you and Byers grew closer, almost inseparable, and Steve decided that eventually the two of you would get together and live happily ever after. When your hair grew a bit longer and your scuffed sneakers turned into pretty mary janes, Steve figured it’d happen in no time.

Then Will disappeared and Steve had found you crying in a ditch after almost hitting his car with your bike, and everything seemed to change. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he knew he wanted to make you smile. He’d never been alone with you before and he felt bad about Will; he knew how close you were with him, so he cracked a few jokes, pretended not to know who you were, and then you smiled at him for the very first time.

A real, true, beautiful smile that had left Steve breathless for a moment.

God, then you laughed and Steve swore he’d never heard something more genuine and pure. He had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy over the fact that he had made you laugh at his stupid joke.

Immediately Steve was addicted. He vowed then and there to do whatever he could to help you, to get you to laugh and smile and flash him that annoyed look that seemed to make your eyes reflect everything good and lovely.

So he did.

Steve had helped you out of the ditch and watched as you biked away, lingering until he was sure you’d be safe. He had invited you to his house for a party, figuring that maybe you’d enjoy a distraction from life. Sure, you had rebuffed him pretty harshly, but he had deserved it. He had been an ass to Byers.

But then Byers had taken pictures of his naked girlfriend and Steve’s world had felt like it’d been flipped upside down. How dare he? Byers was yours, everyone knew that. Hell, the entirety of Hawkins knew that. Why the fuck would he need to take pictures of Nancy, his Nancy, when he already had you? Not only was it creepy and invasive, but it was a major offense to someone as selfless as you.

Logically, Steve had to retaliate, it just wasn’t okay. He had told Tommy the plan and then before he knew it he ended up waiting by Byers’ car to confront him, and then alongside him had been you. Of course you’d been with him. Steve should’ve expected that.

He hadn’t wanted for you to get dragged into it so aggressively, but he also had to tell you the truth. Steve knew there was no way in hell that Byers had told you about the photos, so he had to be the one to break the news before anyone else could. It had killed him to see you so upset.

When Tommy threw you onto the ground, all Steve felt was rage. You weren’t supposed to be the one getting hurt, and yet somehow you were. It enraged him that he couldn’t do more to help, but before he knew it you were on the ground and he had rushed over to help.

He doesn’t remember much else that had happened next, but when your back pressed against his chest to avoid Byers, Steve had felt his heart flutter a bit. Again, he had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy and excited and warm. You had needed him at that moment, so Steve helped.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” He had placed his hand on your shoulder, a risky move he had been afraid would scare you away, but you stayed; you had been warm underneath his touch.

Steve hadn’t meant to break the camera, honest. It just kind of happened, his brain had been muddled by your presence. He felt bad about it, but Tommy had whooped all impressed and Carol had encouraged him on, so he had to pretend that it hadn’t bothered him.

But it had.

It had really, really bothered Steve.

He just wanted to help, to defend you, and yet he had gone too far. And he had felt awful about it.

So, when he had spotted you once again biking on the road, struggling up a massive hill the next day, Steve had figured that this was his chance to make it up to you. He thought that if he had offered you a ride, the two of you could talk. When you accepted, Steve had happily thrown your bike in the back and felt so fucking relieved. There was still a chance.

Then the two of you engaged in the banter that made Steve feel so alive and he knew that it’d all be okay, it had to be. He had teased you, gotten you to blush and laugh once more, and Steve felt like he was on top of the world being able to offer you some type of relief from the news of Will’s death. He had helped you, if even for a little while.

Somehow he had ended up confessing to you that he had been trying to make you laugh a few days prior, having pretended not to know your name. “Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And voila, I did.”

He’ll always remember the shocked expression on your face, the way your eyes softened for a moment with vulnerability and Steve had found himself wanting to lean in closer to see if he could make you blush an even prettier red. He had refrained, though (barely).

But his good mood vanished when you had berated him about breaking Byers’ camera, which he had to admit was a selfish move on his end. He had already felt bad about it, but to hear you remind him that Byers didn’t have the money that Steve did, it hurt in a way he hadn’t been familiar with.

And yet, like you always seem to do to Steve, you had completely turned his mood around with only a few words.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Your words had hit Steve harder than he would've ever thought possible. No one had ever told him that, not even his mother who always insisted on calling him her beautiful boy. Everyone always called Steve various names such as King Steve, the King, Steve “the hair” Harrington, and every possible way to complement his appearance, but no one had ever told him he was a good person.

You had called him “alright”, and those words had been on his mind for the rest of the day, creating a new warmth in his chest every time he thought them. You, Y/N Henderson, had thought Steve was “alright.”

It felt like he had won the goddamn lottery.

Until Nancy started acting weird and ditching plans with him for some mysterious “project”, which sucked. He hadn’t been sure what he did, but he was sure he’d done something to offend the girl. He always managed to do something to hurt those closest to him.

Imagine his surprise when he had driven to Nancy’s and spotted you, glowing in the moonlight and lovely as ever, looking for the girl as well. Pretty fucking convenient, huh? Something was up, Steve could feel it.

And boy, was he right.

There Byers had been, his arm draped over his girlfriend, sitting side by side in her bed without a singular care for the people they were hurting in the process. Typical.

Again Steve had felt that anger deep within him, the same anger from when he saw those pictures of Nancy, because how dare Byers? There you had been, standing underneath Steve, worried about Nancy because you’re the best damn person he’s ever met, and yet Byers had been abusing your kindness and trust for his own gain.

No.

Steve was livid.

“You deserve better, Y/N.” He regrets yelling at you and pushing you away, but Steve had been so overwhelmed with his anger. You deserved everything and more, why couldn’t anyone else see that? Why was Steve the only one who could see this?

Hell, anyone could hurt Steve. He wouldn’t care, he always deserved it in the end. He wasn’t nice or good or worth kindness, but you? Hurting someone like you, someone as selfless and wonderful and genuine, was goddamn unacceptable.

Steve did the only thing he knew: he had to hurt Byers and Nancy for hurting you.

So he did.

And fuck, Steve really wished that he hadn’t, because now he’s standing underneath the Hawk’s sign with a black eye and a bleeding lip and really wishing that you were here to remind him that he’s a good person.

He also really hopes that you still believe this.

Steve had only been trying to help you, to get you to see your own worth and recognize how much of an ass Byers and Nancy were to you. But you had run away, back to that asshole, and Steve had been left to clean up his own mess.

“Need a hand?” Steve calls up to Byers’ boss, who is on a ladder trying to scrub off the cruel spray painted taunts of Nancy.

The man looks down at Steve, his face twisting into a sneer. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.”

Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.”

Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help.

And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon.

He’s had a really rough week.

–

The cookies only take you thirty minutes to make, which is way before Hopper is expected to be back with the kids, so you awkwardly hand out a plate of them to Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy before sitting in between the teens and pulling out a comic.

Nancy hesitantly takes a bite, but her uncertainty melts into bliss. “Oh my god, these are delicious.”

“Y/N makes the best oatmeal raisin cookies, they’re insane.” Jonathan says with a mouthful of his own cookies.

“Thanks,” you say, flicking through the pages of your comic and trying to remember where you last left off. You keep an assortment of comics between Jonathan’s house and Nancy’s basement just in case you’re ever left with a need for one. Thankfully you’ve always planned ahead, because this latest issue of Spidey keeps you distracted as you wait for Hopper and the kids.

You’re doing your best to keep your anxiety at bay, but it’s hard. Baking has always calmed you, though tonight you’re still left feeling jittery. You’ve never been a patient person.

No one speaks as you wait, the clock on the Byers’ wall ticks away at a maddeningly slow pace. You try to focus on your comic, but it’s useless. Eventually you give up and flop your head onto Jonathan’s shoulder, frustrated and anxious.

The second you hear Hopper’s car pull into the driveway you sprint off the couch and run straight towards Dustin. He’s in your arms before he’s even had a chance to fully get out of the car. “Geesh, Y/N!”

You ignore his complaining and hold onto him tightly. He’s alive and safe and whole. Thank god.

Nancy does the same with Mike. “I was so worried about you!”

“Yeah, uh… me too?” Her brother mumbles back.

You snort at him and reluctantly pull away from Dustin to only then pull Lucas into a hug, which he hadn’t been expecting. You squeeze the other boy tight. “Where the hell did you guys run off to this time?”

Before they can explain, you see Nancy eyeing El and you immediately rush over to the girl and engulf her into a hug as well. You haven’t seen her in ages, you’ve missed her and she looks a mess. “El! God, look at you!”

“Is that my dress?” Nancy asks.

You inspect El’s dress and realize that yes, it is indeed an old dress of Nancy’s. You raise an eyebrow at the boys, silently asking for an explanation.

Dustin smiles and gives you a thumbs up. “Who’s ready for an update?”

–

All you’ve managed to learn tonight is that Will is the only one in the group with any artistic abilities.

Mike has drawn a horrible recreation of what Mr. Clark had explained to them at the funeral a few days ago, the whole tale about the flea and the acrobat. While the boy is explaining the situation to everyone else, all you do is wonder how the hell he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

“Okay, so in this example, we're the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea.” Mike points to below the line he’s so poorly drawn. “And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding.”

You’re sitting in between Jonathan and Joyce on the couch and notice their confused faces, causing you to sigh. “Oh, just wait.”

Mike glares at you but continues with his explanation. “Mr. Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

“A gate.” Dustin adds.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab.” Lucas then finishes.

“Don’t forget the compasses.” You mumble, trying your best not to butt in too much. You’re not really sure how much you should disclose about the fact that you’ve been in on the boy’s adventure without informing the literal cop who is in the room.

Hopper, who is seated across from you, narrows his eyes at you.

Yeah. Best not to push it.

“Right, the compasses.” Dustin leans in closer to everyone to make sure they understand what he’s about to say. “The gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper now speaks up, though his eyes are still on you. El softly responds with a “yes” and the man doesn’t look too happy.

“Near a large water tank?”

“Yes,” El says softly again.

“You’ve been there.” You conclude, now holding onto Hopper’s gaze. Seems like you weren’t the only person keeping secrets, then.

Hopper doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes, I have. And you’ve been playing double agent.”

You shrug. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“You should’ve told the police, kid.”

“Like you would’ve believed me.”

“You let these kids run off on their own, does it really matter what I would’ve believed if I had known they’d be in danger?”

You can feel your anger beginning to resurface. You’ll never admit it to anyone, but Hopper manages to bring out an anger within you that only your father could do before. Facing him, you feel like a ten year old again screaming against her father. “I did what I could! I’d never intentionally bring them harm. Don’t ever imply otherwise again.”

“Y/N, Hopper, now isn’t the time.” Joyce interrupts, her face ashen. You feel your anger drain from you as it’s replaced with guilt. She’s right, now isn’t the time for petty arguments with a cop who has a weird vendetta against you.

Joyce then turns to El, her voice shaky and you grab her hand as she speaks. “Is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this–”

“The Upside Down.” El finishes for her and then gives her own response as a nod.

You notice Nancy nervously picking at her fingers, so you ask El your own question. “What about Barb? Do you think you can find her, honey?”

Nancy gives you a smile and mouths “thank you”; you nod your head at her, understanding.

Again, El nods and you let out a breath of relief. For the first time in days, it feels like you finally have a solid and functional plan. Things are finally starting to all come together and now it isn’t just you who has to glue the pieces down. You have help.

After the conversation you help set up everything El needs to contact Barb and Will. You help Nancy tear a picture of Barb and lay it on the table alongside a picture of Will. Mike has switched his walkie into static and the white noise seems to help the girl focus.

All of you crowd around El at the table, not saying a word. Joyce is seated while you and Jonathan stand behind her, each of you have a hand on her shoulder and she holds onto you both like her life depends on it.

You find yourself holding your breath as El closes her eyes and begins her process of contacting Will. You’re terrified that maybe this time she won’t find him, or worse… She’ll find him, but he’ll be long gone already. You’ve already come so fucking close, you’re worried that your luck will run out soon.

Static fills the air and the lights start to flicker. El opens her eyes; her face falls with despair and you immediately know that something has gone wrong before she even whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Joyce’s hand tightens around yours. “What? W–What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

El begins to cry and her voice breaks. “I can’t find them.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” You’re at the girl’s side in a heartbeat, crouched down so that you can look her in the eye as you try to soothe her. “Hey, look at me. You tried your best, it’s okay. I’m right here, my dear.”

While you comfort El, Jonathan comforts his mother. The two of you share a quick glance and through it you’re both able to convey the same message: I’ve got her, take care of the other. Without any other word, you gently guide El to the bathroom and tell her to take some time to herself and that you’ll be there for her when she’s ready.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, tears still in her eyes.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. None of this is your fault, okay? I need you to understand that.”

El nods before she closes the door, but you know she doesn’t believe you. You guess this is how Jonathan had felt earlier in the car when you confessed that everything was your fault and he’d tried reassuring you that it wasn’t. It isn’t easy convincing someone that they haven’t done anything wrong, not when they truly believe that they have.

You hear the faucet running in the bathroom, so you walk over towards the living room to check in on the others. Mike is explaining El’s powers when you catch the tail end of their conversation.

“Like, she flipped a van earlier.”

“El flipped a van?” You ask, staring at the boys in shock.

They all smile at you and Dustin eagerly shakes his head. “Yeah, it was awesome.”

“I left you alone for five hours, Dustin.”

“That was your first mistake.”

Now Mike butts in. “I also jumped off a cliff and El caught me midair with her powers.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Shut up, Mike.” Lucas nudges him with his shoulder. “What we’re saying is, she’s drained.”

“Like a dead battery.” Dustin confirms.

Joyce looks around helplessly. You know she’s doing everything she can to follow along. “Well… how do we make her better?”

“We don’t.” You say, having known El long enough to notice the limitations to her powers. As far as you’re aware, the only way for her to regenerate her strength is through rest. But who knows, maybe during those five hours you left the kids alone they somehow found a magical crystal that heals El.

Mike nods at you. “Y/N’s right, we don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?” Nancy is seated next to Joyce and she looks just as overwhelmed as the woman. Had you not had some time before this with El and the kids, you’d be equally as confused as them.

“I don’t know.” Her brother responds, head ducked in shame.

Suddenly El appears. “The bath.”

You run back over to her side and crouch down once more. “Hey, I told you to tell me when you were ready to come out. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she smiles at you, and though she looks exhausted, you know it’s a genuine smile. “I can find them. In the bath.”

“The bath?” You ask, and later you’ll regret doing this.

–

Dustin is the one who thinks of calling Mr. Clark, though you’re a bit skeptical of the idea.

“It’s late, what if he’s busy?”

Your brother laughs at the idea. “Sure, Mr. Clark will be busy and you’ll have a hot date waiting for you tonight.”

“Dude, harsh.”

He waves you off and dials the teacher’s number and you’re choosing to ignore the fact that it’s inappropriate for Dustin to even have the man’s number. You stand next to him as he takes the call, ready to intervene if needed.

“Mr. Clark? It’s Dustin… Yeah, yeah, I just… I–I have a science question.”

You drop your face into your hands and sigh with disappointment. Smooth, real smooth, Dustin.

“Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?” Dustin’s eyes widen and he quickly looks over at you, covering the phone so that he can frantically whisper, “he asked why!”

“Why are you looking at me?” You whisper back, equally at a loss for what to tell the man.

“You’re no help!” Your brother whispers back, rolling his eyes at you before returning to the phone. “Sorry, technical difficulties. Anyways, we need to know for… fun.”

Again you facepalm and Jonathan, who is standing behind you, rubs your shoulders to relieve some of your stress. You relax against him and remind yourself to calm down. Dustin can handle this, he’s always been better at this stuff than you have; he was practically made for this life of lying and mischief. You were made for cookies and comics.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and you can faintly hear Mr. Clark ask to talk about the topic later, preferably after a school day, but Dustin insists. “You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find… Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

The demanding tone causes you to stifle a laugh and you feel Jonathan doing the same. Yeah. Dustin was made for this.

Mr. Clark and your brother discuss the details of the tank for a while so you wander over towards the table and sit down. You hand Dustin a piece of paper and a pencil so that he can write down important information and flick through a comic as you wait.

As soon as he hangs up, Dustin throws the phone down and turns towards Joyce. “Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

“A kiddie pool?” You ask at the same time Joyce responds, “Yeah, I think so?”

“Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it.”

“I’m sorry, salt?”

You’re ignored once again as Hopper asks how much salt is needed. Dustin looks down at his notes and bites his lip. “1,500 pounds.”

“What the fuck…” You mutter under your breath, completely exasperated by the entire situation. A kiddie pool and 1,500 fucking pounds of salt? No. This is where you draw the line. You can handle monsters and alternate dimensions, but a kiddie pool full of salt to create a sensory deprivation tank is just too much. It’s your breaking point. “My life isn’t real.”

–

Somehow, amidst the diverging of groups to tackle everything needed to make El’s tank, you end up with Nancy in the shed at Hawkins Middle. You’re really not sure how it happened but one minute you were with Jonathan and Joyce, the next you’re in a shed with the girl you have very conflicted feelings over.

Mike is standing outside the door while you and Nancy struggle to grab the hoses from the shelf. The things are surprisingly heavy so it takes the two of you to get them down. You grunt as you throw a third one down into a barrel. “God, what do these things eat?”

Nancy chuckles. “No clue, but I’m sure Jonathan and Hopper are having a better time with all those salt bags.”

“Touche.” Then both of you are quiet again as you continue working.

“So… what’s up with you and Jonathan?” Nancy suddenly asks, which causes you to drop the hose you’d been holding.

“Shit!” You bend down to pick it back up, though you also do it to try and compose yourself because what the fuck. “And nothing. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Nancy frowns. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m intruding or anything.”

“Intruding?”

“I mean… shit, I don’t know how to word this.” She fumbles with her own hose. “I just– I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about.”

You know she means well, but Nancy’s words only upset you for a multitude of reasons. “Nancy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why does it matter?”

“Why does what matter?”

“How I feel about Jonathan. I mean, you’re with Steve. He’s your boyfriend, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to worry about you and my best friend.”

Nancy looks down at the ground. “You’re right, but it’s not like that. Nothing happened between Jonathan and I last night. I promise, I know he’s yours and–”

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of everyone trying to tell me what Jonathan and I are.” You spit out.

Nancy flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?” The girl nods and places the last hose into the barrel, but there’s something that’s been on the back of your mind for a while. “Look, I know you mean well and I’m sorry for being so mean, but… Cheating is something I can’t get behind.”

“I’d never cheat–”

“I know, but a word of advice? Figure out your own feelings before you hurt those closest to you.” Nancy’s frown deepens and you sigh. “Don’t tell him I said this, but even though Steve can be an asshole, he’s still a good guy. He’s already really hurt over seeing you with Jonathan. I just… I don’t want to see him get hurt again, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for him.” Nancy says, a hint of something else within her voice.

“Believe me, I don’t, but it sucks knowing that the person you love may love someone else.”

“Woah, I don’t think he loves me–”

“Maybe not yet, but he’s starting to. So again, I urge you to figure out what you want before more people get hurt. Jonathan included. He’s my best friend, Nancy.” You take a deep breath and will yourself to be vulnerable. “Regardless of whatever I may feel for him, he deserves to be happy. You need to figure out your feelings before you’re in too deep. Okay? He’s been through enough to last a lifetime and he’s the best damn guy in this hellhole of a town.”

Nancy swallows and for a moment you think she’s going to refute you, but instead she straightens her posture and gives you a curt nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You finish up in the shed in silence. Once you’re done you wheel the barrel out and motion for Mike to follow. “Here, can you take this? I’m going to go check on Dustin.”

Mike makes a face. “I mean, I guess, but–”

You quickly hand the kid the barrel and run back inside the school. You’re a shaking mess from your conversation with Nancy and you need to get away from her as quickly as possible. The conversation replays over and over in your head and each time it’s like a punch. Were you too harsh? Have you revealed too much to her?

Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on it.

You run back into the school and slam the door behind you.

–

It takes a while to set everything up within the gym. You help Mike hold the hoses as Jonathan and Nancy turn the water on. Lucas holds a thermometer and monitors the water’s temperature and when it’s time, you use your new switchblade to tear open the bags of salt alongside Jonathan and Hopper. Every five bags or so, Dustin drops an egg into the pool to check the buoyancy.

It’s a team effort, but eventually the eggs begin to float and you breathe out with relief. One task down, a million more to go.

Mike switches on the walkie and you help El put on her tapped goggles. Once everything is ready, you hold her hand as she carefully steps into the water. When she’s fully in, you step away and sit down between Jonathan and Nancy, a position you somehow always find yourself in.

As soon as El begins to float in the water, the lights start to flicker before completely shutting off. You feel the static that always seems to accompany her powers. No one moves, too scared to break El out of her concentration.

You wait for a few minutes, uneasy. You’ve never actually seen El’s power in action besides when she made your comic book fly up in the air, so you’re unsure what to do while you wait. Then, faintly, El mumbles, “Barbara.”

Nancy jolts to life and leans in closer to the girl. The lights flicker once more but this time you see El’s body tremble with fear.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks you.

“I don’t know. I think… I think she’s scared.”

“Scared? I–” Nancy leans even closer to El now. “Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You pull Nancy back, not wanting to overwhelm El, but it’s too late. The poor girl trembles even more and repeatedly mumbles “gone” until her voice raises and she begins to cry out. Nancy starts to cry and you motion for Joyce to hold El while you handle Nancy.

Joyce reaches over to comfort the girl and you pull Nancy into your arms as she cries. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.”

She cries harder and you tighten your arms around her. All your anger towards the girl from your conversation from earlier has faded. Barb, Nancy’s dearest friend, is gone. You can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. If you ever lost Jonathan… God, a piece of you would die.

Eventually Nancy manages to calm down and pulls away with a soft “thank you”, but you keep your hand around hers as you pay attention again. You know she’s embarrassed about her reaction, but you don’t blame her for a second. Later, after all of this, you’ll make sure to check up on her.

“Will?”

You hear Jonathan gasp next to you and he grasps at your free hand. You sit there in shock and feel your heart swell. Tears lump in your throat at the confirmation of Will being alive. Will, beautiful and sweet Will, is alive.

You squeeze Jonathan’s hand and the two of you look at each other. There’s tears in his eyes as well and you both let out a slight chuckle of disbelief. After this horrible week, everything that you’ve been through together to find Will, finding out that he’s alive by each other’s side only seems fitting.

“Tell him… Tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming.” Joyce instructs El, strength returning to her voice.

The walkie sparks to life with Will’s voice. “Hurry.”

You choke back a sob. “Little bee,”

Jonathan squeezes your hand again and you rest your head against his shoulder, completely sagging with relief. He’s here. He’s real and he’s alive and he’ll be in your arms once again soon.

“Okay, listen. You tell him to… To stay where he is.” Joyce is speaking with an urgency now as she hovers over El. “We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

The sweet moment is ruined by the walkie’s intense static. El quickly sits up and tears her goggles off and begins to panic. She flings herself into Joyce’s embrace and you hurry over to console her as well. She’s just a little girl, she’s been through so much for someone so young.

You kiss her forehead the way Jonathan always does to you. “You did so well, El. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re incredible, okay? We’ve got you, you’re safe with us.”

Joyce echoes your words and the two of you hold tightly onto El as she cries. You look over at Nancy, who is staring off into space with her own despair in her eyes, and you feel such an intense wave of hurt hit you. You’re all so young. The kids are all huddled together in shock. None of this is fucking fair.

–

You opt to stay behind with the kids on the bleachers as Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper discuss what to do next. Nancy has walked away, presumably to grieve, so you give her the same she desires.

El shivers, so you tighten the towel around her. Lucas rubs her arms to try and warm her up as well, something that brings a faint smile to your face. You guess the two of them sorted out their differences, then. Good. El needs more friends like Lucas in her life if she’s going to continue hanging around Dustin and Mike. They’re insensible, but Lucas isn’t so bad.

Dustin’s stomach rumbles and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Oh!” You gasp, suddenly remembering the cookies you packed in your bag. You had grabbed them before leaving Jonathan’s, figuring the kids hadn’t eaten all day. “Here, made these fresh today. You all get three, that’s it.”

The boys fight over who gets one first and you leave them to sort it out themselves. You roll your eyes at them; they’re such heathens. You focus your attention back to El, who remains pressed against your side. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,”

“Hmm, I think I can understand why.” You grab a cookie while the boys aren’t looking and offer one to El. “Have you ever had an oatmeal raisin cookie?”

She shakes her head.

“Ah, well then you’re in for a treat. You see, I’m kinda known for my cookies. Everyone loves them, see?” You point towards the boys, who are about to start throwing punches over the biggest piece, and El giggles.

Your heart brightens at the sound. “Here you go, try it.”

She accepts the cookie and takes a tiny bite. As she chews, her eyes lighten and she lets out a quiet “yum”.

“‘Yum’ indeed.” You agree with a smile.

Eventually the kids settle down and eat their own cookies in silence. You figure that the events from today have finally caught up to them, so you eat your own cookies in peace. You’re content to sit with them for a bit, relieved to have all your boys with you safe and sound. You’ve missed them.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands off and gently nudge El aside. “Sorry, honey. I should go check on Jonathan. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She nods at you and moves so that you’re able to get up.

“Where you going?” Dustin asks with his mouth full.

You make a face at him. “Dude, don’t talk with your mouth full. You know mom hates that.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes. “I’m going to go find Jonathan. Make sure no one leaves, alright?”

Your brother salutes you and you salute back before heading towards the gym doors. You’re about to open the doors, but then you see Jonathan sitting with Nancy against the wall through the glass panel.

You freeze, unsure if you should interrupt them. They seem to be deep in a private conversation, Nancy’s face is twisted with so many emotions you feel almost guilty for looking in. Like you’re intruding on something.

Then again, it always feels like you’re intruding when you’re with them lately.

Is this really what you want?

Your hand hovers over the door handle and for a moment you think you’ll pull it open, but you don’t. Instead, you turn around and walk back over to the kids. You’re not sure what you’re feeling as you walk over, but when Dustin sees you he seems to notice a change in your demeanor.

He frowns at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” You say numbly, sitting down next to him. Your shoulders are stiff, your leg is bouncing up and down.

Dustin looks over towards where you came from and he seems to freeze as well. He looks between you, then Jonathan and Nancy in the hallway, and he exhales. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

You think your brother will leave the topic at that, but he surprises you. He grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. You look up and see that he’s smiling at you and your heart breaks all over again for an entirely different reason. You look around at Lucas and Mike, who are bickering over the cookies, at El who watches in amusement, and then finally at Dustin who is holding your hand and offering you whatever comfort he can provide you.

Dustin knows you as well as you know him, he can sense a shift in your mood before you even can. He’s here with you, holding your hand because the boy you love has broken your heart once again, and Dustin is doing this without you having to tell him. He just knows, and you love him all the more for it.

You’re surrounded by so much love it takes your breath away for a moment.

You squeeze Dustin’s hand back, so immensely grateful that he’s your brother. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles that wonderful toothless smile that you’ve loved since he was a baby. “I love ya too, sis.”

“Are you two done? Can I ask Y/N for more cookies now?” Mike calls over, though his voice is kinder than usual. You guess that even he has noticed your mood change but doesn’t want to pry.

You wipe your eyes quickly and stand up. “So demanding. Let me check my bag, but I doubt it.”

“I’m your favorite, let’s be honest here.” He responds, trying to get you to laugh.

It works. “Sure, buddy.”

You walk over to your bag and rustle around, but you know there’s none left. You’re just thankful for the distraction, and you have a sneaking suspicion that this had been Mike’s plan all along. You look up and see him staring at you with a concerned look in his eyes and your heart swells even more.

You’re so surrounded by love; sometimes it feels like you’re even drowning in it.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #reader and dustin are such cute siblings #i love them ur honor #also steves thoughts are so so pathetic #love him

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clockworkcheetah · 5 months

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oooh opened up a whole lot of ideas for loops. im like this close to finishing this fic now

#on one hand man this fic will not gd end #but will fill out the loop numbers #it needs to slowburn gotta make it slowerrr #also finally have an opportunity to write a particular dynamic that i wasnt sure how to include #does involve characters i have zero confidence with writing tho #tbh anyone who isnt the brotzman siblings are that

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candied-cae · 2 years

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And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Absolutely Not Time To Cry

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Chapter 11/? - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 10,692

Summary: There's too much happening. And all the while, they have nothing they can really do. The Party is stuck until something changes. And feeling stuck like that can be suffocating.

More ST Fics

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Steve’s sleep was interrupted a little after 3 am. Surprisingly, there were no nightmares, no shaking, and no terror sweats. None of the things that usually follow their ‘special’ emergencies were what startled him awake. But Steve didn’t even have time to think about how nice it was to have slept so well, because the thing that did wake him up was the house phone downstairs. Ringing and clattering in the way that always pulled him from his dreams.

Steve’s always been a bit of a light sleeper, so it’s no shock that the phone would wake him up. Especially since he used to listen for it so carefully. Over the years, he’s practically trained his ears for it. But it was damn early to hear it that morning. He considered letting the person get sent to record a message. Well, he considered it for about a second, until he thought about all the other people downstairs who deserved to keep sleeping if they hadn’t already been woken up. And with that thought, he sprung up out of his bed and got all the way to the landing in what could’ve been record speed if he hadn’t pulled something in his side around his stitches that punched the air out of him for a moment.

He picked the phone off of the base to shut it up but hesitated in bringing it to his ear.

The moment he did, a harsh ”Stephen” barked through the line.

His dad. Of course. Already sounded put off even though Steve hadn’t spoken to him yet. Not a surprise. But there was a recognizable drawl to the word. The way he said it when he was just drunk enough to forget his manners.

This was going to be a fun conversation.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to keep the bother out of his voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It was a stupid question, truly. Steve brought a hand to his temple and massaged it in an attempt to stave off his frustration as he answered,“ Sleeping? I was in bed when I heard the phone. It’s past 3 am over here, why are you calling?”

“Well, we were just getting back to the house after a very nice work dinner-”

A work dinner that went on until almost one in the morning over there in the Pacific timezone?

“-and your mother tells me that, in the middle of a disaster, mind you, you’re having a party at the house again.”

He tried to correct him,“ That’s not-”

But his father doesn’t listen, he never really does,“ Did you forget what we discussed the last time you threw a party when we left town? After you went and got into a fight with a boy whose damn brother was missing? After you defaced a local business? After that very public fucking embarrassment of your junior year? Did you forget?”

“No, but-”

“No what?”

Steve wanted to punch a wall. Even wanted to ram his head into one. Through grit teeth, he gave the man the obedient answer he wanted,“ No, I remember.”

“Then you should remember the conversation we had after graduation, too. About accountability, responsibility, and..." there was a pause that seemed like he was looking for another big word to use, but he couldn't find one and settled on," growing up. I am not spending my hard-earned money on that house just to let you laze around back there. You are supposed to be working and making plans. If you aren’t going to figure your bullshit out-" that word still made Steve's stomach twist every single time he heard it," -and make a man out of yourself, then at least don’t further add to my headache. Trashing the house with your unwelcome guests, getting fired from the one place in town that hired you-”

“None of that is happening!” Steve burst with the words. He immediately checked the living room, and thankfully no one seemed to stir at his outburst. He reined himself back in and corrected his father,“ I invited a few people to sleep here because they don’t have anywhere to go. There’s no party, no drugs, no alcohol, no loud music. It’s just four other kids who needed a place to stay and are crashing on the couch.”

“I’m not responsible for all the lost souls of Hawkins.” the voice came through in a singular kind of cold tone.

It didn’t really mean something as simple as ‘don’t adopt every stray off the street’. It meant ‘Get them out of my house, they are not my problem, and certainly not my bill to foot’. He said it final. Like the only respectful option Steve had, was to send them on their way at first light. Like Steve shouldn’t even dare argue, because then he was being the unreasonable one for costing his father more money on the house utility bills and pulling from the grocery money left behind.

There wasn’t any point in saying anything else to sway him, it wouldn't work.

“Understood, sir,” he answered, trying to press his voice into one of acceptance and indifference before he hung up the phone.

And just as Steve started trying to bring himself down, relax his muscles from the taut way they always got when he had to deal with his dad like that, Jonathan was rounding the corner from the kitchen. He hadn’t really been trying to eavesdrop. But he woke up a little while before the call came and decided to burn through a blunt before he tried to lie back down. He had thought he was being considerate by cracking the window above the sink and blowing the blissful smoke out of it instead of in the living room with the kids and making the house smell like weed. But now he felt kind of like he had hidden away and overheard a little bit of something that wasn’t really his business.

But weed makes him a little nosy. So he peeked his head over at Steve, brewing in some kind of tension, and asked simply,” What was that?”

Steve, on the other hand, had no idea anyone but him was awake. So the sudden question from behind nearly scared him out of his skin,” Jesus!” he yelped, spinning around almost too fast with a hand over his speeding heart. When he realized he was just looking at Jonathan, red-eyed and leaning against the wall from the kitchen, he steadied himself and brought his voice down,” God, what’re you doing?”

“Taking Argyle down to two remaining blunts.” he waved the last of it between his fingers, it was just about low enough to call a roach and throw out, but he just looked back up at Steve and asked,” You?”

“Well, the phone rang,” he answered matter of factly.

“Yeah, heard it but thought I’d let the fancy machine deal with it.” Jonathan said with a gesture to the ‘fancy machine’.

“Yeah,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck, honestly wishing he decided to do the same now that it seems the living room campers were pretty deep sleepers,” Just didn’t want it to wake you guys up.”

The other shrugged back to him before pressing again,“ What was it? Who calls someone at 3 am?”

“Inconsiderate people in Seattle,” he answered, more bite than he was intending. But he did want to bite. Or hit. Something. Just not Jonathan, though.

“Was it your old man?”

Steve's eyes widened slightly at Jonathan's correct guess,“ Huh?”

“I heard the ‘Understood, sir’ clear enough. Nobody really says it like that unless they’re talking to their’s.” Jonathan answered with a kind of knowing look.

Steve didn’t want him or the others to feel bad about his dad being an asshole. And he wasn’t going to make them leave. So when he saw Jonathan’s eyes, that despite his current condition, seemed like they wanted more details, he vowed none of them would know,“ Never mind, s’nothing. But, if anyone asks, you’re all the lost souls of Lenora, got it?”

“Uh, yeah?”, Jonathan agreed, sounding more confused than he had been a moment earlier," Sorry you ended up lying to him away. 'No drugs'. My bad."

“Don't worry about it," Steve told him as the short conversation stopped," Ugh, I need some water” he added as he rounded past Jonathan to the cabinet with glasses in it.

Jonathan still wasn’t exactly sure where they stood with each other. But he was more or less living with the guy right now, and there didn’t seem to be even a moment where Steve acted like he regretted the offer. Maybe he could stop being so wary around him.

“Get one for me, too?” he chanced.

“Why not.” Steve decided, grabbing a second glass on his way to fill them up. He knew the way weed stuck in a person’s throat after smoking, to help relieve that itch was the polite thing to do. He handed the other over and asked,” So is this why you’re different?”

“What?”

“The marijuana. I’m at least 90% sure that wasn’t something you messed with back here. And you seem different now. Or, well, different-er than the last time you became different,” He clarified with a sip, referencing how much Jonathan has changed since monsters and Nancy came into his life,“ So I was wondering if that’s what did it. If finding a friend in the bud made you so…”

“Different,” Jonathan finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It was something new for me. Just since we went to Lenora. And I haven’t really been running the same as I used to.” he pondered, pulling one last ashen breath from the thing barely pinched between his fingers, before casting it out the window respectfully.

“That why you were even up at this hour anyway?” Steve wondered, leaning against the marble island as he realized he was talking to Jonathan, one-on-one, for the very first time.

Jonathan shrugged off the suggestion,“ I’m pretty much half an insomniac these days.”

“Fair, the end of the world does that to people.” he figured.

“Nah,” the guest refuted, looking back out the window into the dim world, blanketed in only streetlight against the dark sky,” I’ve been like this for the better part of the year.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked. He hoped it sounded sincere. He meant it to be.

And as nosy as Stoned Jonny is, he’s still not exactly open enough for that conversation,“ We don’t… have to talk,” he excused Steve from whatever unspoken rules meant he had to ask.

“But do you want to?” he offered anyway,” I know we don’t, you know, talk. But you do seem really different from before you left. If you wanted to… get it out, or something…”

And yeah, Steve was being really nice. Jonathan almost wanted to tell him what he was thinking. See if the retired king had any good advice to lend. But how could he? Really?

What was he supposed to do? Look at him and admit,“ Yeah, I think I need to break up with my girlfriend. You know the one. The strongest and most amazing girl this world has ever seen, the one we’ve both said ‘I love you’ to because she's that incredible, the one who’s already dealing with so much shit because she wants to save the world. And I’m supposed to add to that shit. Why? Oh, because I’ll hold her back. Because I’m not moving on the way she is, and she deserves to move on. Because I don’t know who I am anymore and she loves the person I’ve been letting her think is still in me. She loves him way too much, and he’s going to ruin her. Just like his dad tried to ruin his mom. And she’d let him. And he can’t stand doing that to her. I can’t stand doing that to her. But I don’t know how to let her go.”

He couldn’t say that. Even with one joint in his system and being deprived of enough sleep that he wouldn’t be all that surprised if he was hallucinating their whole interaction, he couldn’t say all of that. It was too much.

“I’m good.” He said instead.

“Are you?”, Steve offered one more time.

And Jonathan couldn’t explain why he said it if anyone asked him, but he looked back at Steve, sharing this dark hour of the night with him, and met him somewhere in the middle,“ Ask me again? Maybe another midnight dreary?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” he agreed, and somehow Jonathan really believed he would. Some other time, they could try again. See if it felt more right for Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers to talk a little further down the road.

Unfortunately for Steve, this slightly vulnerable conversation wasn’t enough to dull the memory of his dad. He had hoped the glass of water would do the job, but he was still worked up. All strung out on what happened over the last week, how they were stuck at this standstill, and now even his father was causing problems. It filled him with all this anxious energy and raging hurt, and he had no way to get it out.

So he reached for his keys and told Jonathan,” I think I’ll take a lap.”

“What?” he questioned back, standing up straighter from where he’d been leaning against the counter of the sink.

“I - I’m just going to head out for a bit.”

“At 3 am?”

“I won’t be long. Just need to - I don’t know - get out. Get out of all this for a minute.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. He was conflicted about the plan. A big piece of him wanted to crawl back into bed and close his eyes until a reasonable hour and get up then. Maybe be extra host-ly and make breakfast for his guests, pancakes and bacon and shit like that. Kind of like a real family, his mind dared to wonder. Which only served to make him madder. Because they weren’t his family, and he needed to remind himself of that.

His family was the man on the phone who wanted him to kick out his friends in need and the woman who probably stood right next to him and didn’t feel the need to argue in favor of her son. And the worst part was that it was probably his own fault. At least a little. His dad probably wouldn’t have blown up so bad if he had asked first. Would’ve instead said, with some kind of mannerly smile, that ‘Of course, they can stay!’ Because it wouldn’t be becoming of the Harrington name to say no to providing charity for those standing on their doorstep, he’d have to extend the proposal. But Steve didn’t ask. Steve said yes behind his back and let him come to his own conclusions. Drunk conclusions that said it was a party. Even if he had a chance to mention to his mom before Argyle answered the phone, maybe he could’ve swund it his way. But the very guest outted that he’d already made the decision himself. It might've gone smoother the other way. If only he’d just picked up the phone and got in front of it...

But he didn’t. And the only people he can truthfully call his family, expected him to throw away the people that - he’d honestly prefer to delude himself into believing - could be family instead. And he really needed to nip that idea in the bud.

Some space would help. Probably. The most familial thing is being cramped in close quarters together, right? So getting in his car and putting some distance between them and him before they made him cry was the smartest thing to do. He wasn’t going to cry. He had to say it out loud to himself a few times as he took his car down random roads.

“Not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not going to cry. I am not going to cry.”

He was not going to cry. Because he was not sad. He was mad. So he’s not going to cry. He’s going to be mad. Be mad and break something.

And finally, he decided where he wanted to go at damn near 4 am on a Sunday.

He turned down the route that ran through the forest and would take him to the junkyard on the hill past the quarry. It was only the second time he’d ever been out there - and the last visit was only because he’d walked the train tracks with Dustin to kill Dart - so he looked around for a minute as the car rolled into the clearing of forgotten things. There were a couple of trashed cars, the school bus they’d fortified and subsequently forfeited that same night, along with a few empty oil drums, discarded cans and glasses, spraypaint bottles, all the kinds of things a boy might like to break.

It was just what he needed.

He parked his car, popped the trunk, pulled out the nail bat he hadn’t gotten a chance to use on their latest escapade into hell, and got started smashing. He was so pissed. Pissed about everything, and determined to stay that way, too. So, he repeated it to himself over and over again.

As he dented the doors on a rusted blue Oldsmobile,” I’m pissed.”

As he beat in the sides of a graffitied oil drum,“ I’m mad.”

As he kicked away crinkled cans into scrap metal,“ I’m angry.”

As he swung down at the glass bottles, sending their shards around him,” I am so fucking mad. About the Upside Down. Vecna. Henry. One. Dr. Brenner.”

As he struck the bus, littering it with holes,“ Monsters. Demogorgans. Demodogs. Demobats. Mind Flayers. Possessions.”

As he climbed on a broken-down Pontiac and beat in its windshield,“ Russian Invaders. Lies. Secrets. Experiments. Black Eyes. Bruises. Scars.”

He kept swinging. Even when the glass was all shattered and all he was doing was denting the frame metal, he kept swinging. And that wasn’t all he was doing. He was crying.

“Using El! Trying to kill her! Nearly killing Eddie! Killing Max! Blinding her! Breaking her!”

He couldn’t even see anymore. His vision was completely distorted with salt water. He tried to ignore it. To pretend like he wasn’t actually crying. Like he was successfully pushing the sorrow down and only feeling the rage. Even when it was impossible to ignore, he kept trying.

“FUCK!” He finally screamed, throwing down the bat to try and wipe the tears away. Having to admit to himself what was happening.

“I’M PISSED!” He shouted again, like maybe if he kept saying ‘I’m just mad, I’m not sad’ he could convince the invisible audience watching him. He could convince himself. And that it wouldn’t hurt so much. It wouldn’t feel so crushing. He wouldn’t be weak if he wasn’t sad.

He stepped forward to jump off the car, letting out a body-shaking bellow into the sky to try and prove his point when,“ AUGHH-” when his footing missed the hood, and he fell right onto the ground. Landing, luckily not on top of any metal or glass shards, but right on his side.

And, fuck, he didn’t even need to look to know he ripped his stitches. He rolled onto his back and threw his head back into the dirt in frustration. Because that was just what he needed. Then he beat his fist against the Pontiac once for good measure, before he got to his feet and shuffled back to his own car. He even bothered to pick up the bat and put it back in the trunk before he dropped himself into the passenger side seat, figuring his tantrum was done for then.

He always kept first aid stuff on him those days. A little in the center console, a little in the glove compartment, and a little more in the trunk. Firstly, he popped open the glove box, which is where he had the thick gauze he’d be able to wrap around his torso, and in the console, he had the bandaging material to pack over any bleeding. When he went to retrieve that though, is when he remembered what else he had put in there.

Max’s letter.

It was sitting there right on top. Staring at him, his own name inscribed in the girl’s handwriting on the brown envelope. Right where he’d left it a few days ago after she gave it to him. He hadn’t wanted to leave it in Nancy’s basement or risk crumpling it in his jacket pocket. He figured the console was the perfect spot to put it to keep it pristine until she got out of the curse just fine and he could hand it back to her. Give it back with a cocky smirk and some line about how it was a waste of her time because, of course, nothing was going to happen to her.

He hadn’t read it yet. He didn’t want to. Didn’t plan to ever need to. She handed it to him and emphasized it was for some kind of ‘If I die I want to make sure you know…’ thing. Which hurt at the time because Steve had no plans to let her die. He still had no plans to let her die.

But he never read it. And, suddenly, he considered never getting the chance to read it while she was still with them. If she ended up being right- if things didn’t go their way- if the next time he entered her room, he heard that long line on the heart monitor… If that happened and he hadn't talked to her about her letter? It hurt worse to think about that possibility.

So he picked it up. Turned over the brown pouch and exposed the lined notebook paper she’d folded up for him to read. Because if they were going to run out of time, he wanted to tell her he read it before she went.

Dear Steve,

Jesus, he was already crying again. He wiped his eyes once more and started again.

Dear Steve,

I know you’ll probably be pissed at me for writing this. For making a big deal out of what’s happening. Because you think you’ll save me, and everyone else, by the end. Which is stupid. You can’t beat up a curse with a spiky baseball bat. And maybe I’m stupid because I almost believe you can. But this isn’t about now. It’s supposed to be about everything else. I want you to know that you were the only person who ever stood up to Billy for me. You were the reason I believed I could do it for myself. I was just some girl that showed up with Lucas at a junkyard, some girl that didn’t believe any of you about the monsters you fought. But then I found myself face to face one up the emergency exit, and you pulled me out of the way to take it on yourself. Then we went to Will’s, and even though Billy got in, you ran right after him and tore him off of Lucas. That was the scariest night of my life, but the minute I saw you get back up, I stopped being so terrified. Because you were there. Even if you got knocked on your ass, you were there. And I knew you’d go down swinging instead of letting anything happen to us. To me. And I’ve never felt safe like that with anyone. And then you filled our summer with back halls to skip movie tickets and free ice cream. Which you totally should’ve been fired for. And you kept doing it anyway. Getting to see you in that ridiculous sailor uniform, swearing all of us to secrecy, and serving El and me so quickly that you forgot she was supposed to stay out of town… I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. I need you to know how much I loved that summer for every moment it was good. And I have always cherished that time, every day since, despite what happened on the fourth. And I still smile every time the radio plays ‘Take On Me’, by the way. I think you were the kind of brother I always wanted Billy to be. The one I always hoped he could become if he just stopped being so horrible. I figured out I shouldn’t expect much from him, but you showed me I could still expect something from someone else. Even after he was gone, and I didn’t make it easy, you kept showing up. Being there for me when I needed someone but didn’t want to admit it. And I love you for that. For being the brother I needed and always wanted to have. If you’re reading this, then it didn’t go well. I know that. But I’m sure I would’ve ended up worse if it weren’t for you. I’m sorry if this sappy letter makes it hurt more. Like you should’ve done more to protect me. That’s not true. It hasn’t happened yet, and I know it’s not true. Because I know you’ll do everything you can. But even if I’m done and gone, I wanted you to know you spared me a lot of pain over this last year and a half. I’ll always be grateful to have known you. Thank you. And if I’m dead, (it’s narcissistic to assume, but…) please don’t be too sad for too long. Don’t do what I did after Billy. Don’t close off from the group. Stick with them through it all and make sure they keep smiling. I know you can find a way to make sure they don’t forget how to have fun, even if you like being a buzzkill. So watch out for them for me, and watch out for yourself. And, if it’s not asking too much, talk to me. Keep me updated on how they’re all doing. I didn’t use to believe dead people could hear prayers or conversations spoken on their graves or whatever. But if there are monsters, then anything could be true, and there’s a chance I could hear you. So send me the good stories. Let me know you’re all okay.

Love, Your Little Maxie (And if you tell anyone I signed off with that, I’ll haunt you)

And that… well that pushed him over the edge. He was sobbing. Sobbing to the point that he couldn’t deny it was happening anymore. He let go of the letter, allowing it to fall into the driver’s seat because he didn’t want to rip it in his trembling grip. Everything in him ached reading those words. It hurt worse than the reopened wounds on his side. It hurt so deeply because it was so nice.

Max actually took a pencil to paper and wrote the words ‘I love you’ for him. She called him something like a brother, and that’s nearly everything he’s ever wanted his whole life. To be family to someone. To really feel like it. And he kept crying. He curled into the passenger seat of the car as the hot tears fell down his face, as he wailed and his head began to ache with the misery. It was the kind of cry that hurts. His eyes get irritated and lids become puffy and red as he hopelessly tries to rub them to feel better. Until all that can be done to ease that hurt is to close them.

So he does.

And he falls asleep. Right there in his car. Parked in the same junkyard where he first met Max.

Across town, Nancy was flying awake in her bed. Heartbeat in her ears, sweat collected on the back of her neck under all her hair. That was somewhat new. She’d done a surprisingly good job of coping with the last few crises in their lives. Sure, she used to stay up later than she liked, churning with guilt and grief over Barb. But that was the worst of it.

Now, she finds that she really only sleeps in bursts. Something between an hour or two where she’s just started dreaming and she’d see him again. She was certain it wasn’t the real Vecna. Will said he didn’t feel as… ‘there’ as he had in the past. And, it didn’t feel like he was saying anything new to her. But she was back in that hall. With its white tile, blood splatter, flickering lights, and boarded-up doors. And she fought, every time to pull them down and get away. If she managed to, the door would open back up into the hall. And she’d do it over and over again until Vecna caught up with her and she woke up.

Her breath steadied as she got done checking her room for any sign that something was off. It all looked right, so she wasn’t somewhere wrong. She was fine. Or at least, she was supposed to be. They survived. Even if it’s not over yet, they survived to that point.

She was fine. She was supposed to be fine.

With a peek at her clock, she knew it was way too early to do anything about how messed up she felt. Too early to watch tv in the living room to distract herself. Too early to try and call someone. Too early to plead with her dad for the keys to the car back. Too early to find any relief.

So she just fell back onto her bed, flipping over the pillow and rolling onto her side to try and get the heat off her spine. She looked out her window into the darkness outside and wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Memories of both Steve and Jonathan climbing through it her sophomore year come back. She contemplated, for a moment, climbing out it herself. Walking to Loch Nora at an ungodly hour of the morning and knocking on Steve’s front door to pull Jonathan out. Bringing him onto the porch with her, cornering him alone so he had to answer. And asking him why he didn’t want to come back for Spring Break in the first place. Asking him why he still feels so far away when they were back in the same town for the first time in six months. Asking him if he even loved her anymore.

She didn’t do that though. She stayed in her soft, far too-warm bed. Alone.

Instead, she just thought back on the beginning of her sophomore year in general. It was kind of funny to look at in hindsight. Once upon a time, Nancy Wheeler was some sweet and passive little thing. She wasn’t that person anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. But she can’t help but find herself missing parts of it. She liked the fire that grew since, don’t get her wrong. But everything used to be so much simpler. Easier.

She missed that.

That Nancy wouldn’t wake up from nightmares about telekinetic monsters who murder kids.

That Nancy wouldn’t get grounded after she practically went missing all Spring Break.

That Nancy wouldn’t be worried because she doesn’t know what’s going on with Jonathan…

And with that thought, she considered returning to the nightmare she knew was waiting for her. Because at least she understood what was happening in them. But just before her senses faded, she remembered the way Robin held her hand and told her ‘Everything’s going to be fine. I am sure of it’. The way she later kicked her foot and said that even her I-don’t-know’s seem to go ‘pretty damn well’.

And who can really say what that memory does to her? What it means?

But Nancy sat up, looked away from the window, and instead laid her eyes on her desk. At the grey purse where she knew she’d slipped her notebook. The one she’d taken notes in when she spoke to Wayne Munson back when it all started. And she gets up. Collects her things, flicks on her lamp, and starts working on that article again. To tell their side of the story. The version no one else has considered. The one where Eddie is innocent.

The next thing Steve knows, he’s waking up in his passenger seat with the sun peaking over the horizon at him. He squinted at the painfully bright light against his tear-sore eyes. He was all crumpled up uncomfortably in his car seat, a knot of muscle forming in his neck at the odd angle. He hadn’t even bothered to close the door or actually deal with the stitches he’d originally meant to mend. A groan escaped him as he dropped his face into his hands, using his fingers to try and work out some of the sleep and ache from those burning eyes.

How long did he nod off for?

With a twist of the keys in the ignition, the Beemer’s dashboard came to life, and the digital clock on it told him it was already 6:52 am. The voice of a radio host came through low on the speakers as Steve started putting his thoughts together. He checked his stomach, and there was some dried blood sticking his shirt to him. Barely noticeable, but it still added to his headache. The wounds didn’t hurt too bad, seemed like they’d dried shut, at least. So he was able to pack away Max’s letter back into the console with the first aid supplies and get himself into the driver’s seat without much trouble. He could wrap himself up at home or stop by the hospital later.

He rubbed at his worn eyes again before starting the engine properly and backing out of the junkyard. He wanted to get back to the house and hopefully sneak inside without waking anyone. Wasn’t exactly keen on dealing with questions about how long he’d been out, but a spare glance at his gas meter told him that he should probably top off before he did so.

By the time he was pulling back onto his street, it wasn’t just Argyle’s pizza van sitting in the driveway. The chief’s cruiser was parked, and Powell was already walking towards Steve’s front door.

“Wait!” He called to him as he turned into the drive and hastily got himself parked.

Chief Powell stopped in his tracks and turned around to see the boy all but scramble out of his car and run up to him,“ Son? What’re you doing just getting home?”

“I just, uh, got restless. Went for a drive.” he was quick to try and excuse himself,” I just- didn’t want you to knock. What’d you need?”

“Well, we got a call down at the station. Your father wanted us to check and make sure no one had broken into his house. Remove any extra persons from the property. Which we told him was ridiculous. Because if anything had happened, we would’ve heard it from you, the person actually in there. But he was insistent that, due to your injury, you might not be capable.” he crossed his arms and raised a brow at him,” Want to tell me what that’s about?”

“I’m fine. And no one broke into the house. He just wanted…” Steve trailed off, now wondering how much legal right his father actually had to kick out his friends from over two thousand miles away.

“What?”

“I have a few people over,” he answered, figuring that was his best chance,” The Byers, Joyce’s kids. They arrived back in town yesterday, and their mom is away at some work conference or something. They needed a place to stay, so I brought ‘em back here.”

“And those are the people your father wanted me to remove? A couple of children?” Powell asked him, voice clear with disbelief that Mr. Harrington would be so unreasonable. If only he knew.

Steve searched for a way to explain away his father’s demand so that Powell might not report back his intent to keep his guests,“ He just, wasn’t too fond of me doing so without asking. Worried about the water bill or something. I’m sorry he tried to make you deal with it…” Steve was being respectful, but he wanted to set his resolve firmly,” But I’m not letting anyone kick them out. Which is why I didn’t want you to knock. They’re sleeping and really deserve to keep at it. Sir.”

“So you’re planning to secretly squirrel them away here, under Mr. Harrington’s nose?” the man questioned him.

Steve’s notion was to give a sympathetic shrug and point a pair of desperate eyes at him,“ Was hoping to?”

“Say you get away with it. Next bill goes out on the first, just a few more days, so there’s hardly time to notice a big difference in it by then. But what happens in a month when the next one is much higher?” the chief questioned, crossing his arms.

“Um… I could pay the difference? Cover part of it and the city sends a normal-looking bill over to him?” he suggested.

“Kid…” Powell shook his head at him.

“That’s not allowed, is it?”

“No. City Utilities can’t just send falsified bills to him because you want to…” he had to admit,” do the right thing.“ he let out a huff,” Steve-”

“I’ll figure something out by then,” he promised, trying to just come up with enough of an answer to get Powell to walk away and let it be for now.

“Steve-” he started again until he was interrupted by Callahan’s snarky voice over his shoulder radio

”Chief, what’s the situation over at Harrington Manor?”

“Please,” Steve asked again.

Powell had his hand on it, hesitating to decide what he was going to do with the information he’d been given.

“No situation” he chose,” Boy answered the door just fine. Nothing going on we need to alert his father about.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispered while Callahan made some remark about bored rich guys giving them too much work.

“Figure it out, kid. Don’t make me drive back out here because the man with his name on the deed comes calling again.”

“Got it, sir.”

“Get inside.” he nodded towards to door to send the boy on his way, before he remembered,“ Oh, and we’re done going through the RV, so let everyone know they can stop by the station today and pick up any of their things from it. We’re giving it back to the Jamesons later this evening, around six, so anything that’s left then will be theirs.”

“Uh, yeah, will do.” Steve agreed.

And with one final nod, Chief Calvin Powell was climbing back into the police car and leaving Steve to the mess he’d made for himself. He turned around and went back into his house when he found himself cornered by none other than El standing just a few feet from the door. He froze, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights.

“Hi?” he greeted her.

“Something bad?” she asked him, because, of course, she would.

Maybe she spotted the blood on his shirt, or overheard him and the chief through the door, or maybe she spied on him and saw him crying in his car a few hours ago. He really hoped it wasn’t that last option though. But whatever it was, El Hopper knew there was something off. Not that Steve was going to admit it, though.

“It’s fine. Why’re you up already?”

She didn’t really answer him, gave something of a half-shrug and seemed to wait like he was supposed to continue.

“You think you’ll be falling back asleep, or are you up for good this morning?”

“Up for good.”

“Want breakfast?” he offered.

“Eggos?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged and started walking into the kitchen,” I guess I’ve got some of those.”

Over the next hour, his house guests slowly woke up and trickled into the kitchen, each following the irresistible smell of store-bought frozen waffles as they popped from the toaster. He was less accommodating than he had been for their ice cream party the night before, only passing over a plate piled with them and letting each person douse it with maple syrup themselves. Thankfully, they all seemed to be getting used to each other a little bit more. Steve ended up giving a slightly more official tour than Robin had. She’d really only pointed out the bathrooms and living room. So Steve took them around. Showed them where his dad’s office was, told them to just kinda leave it alone as he does; showed them the basement, which was pretty much all storage and not a hangout like the Wheelers; showed off the dining room they technically have but never use; the attic, also storage. All that sort of stuff.

He also bothered to write down everyone in the Party’s house numbers in the contact book by the phone while he called around. Robin said there was no way she was getting out of church that morning after the disappearing act, Steve promised to grab the red beret she knew fell off when she helped pick up Max and anything else he spotted of hers. Nancy was able to convince her dad to let her use the car to stop by since it was part of ‘cleaning up their mess’. She agreed to grab Dustin and Lucas when Steve said he pulled his stitches sleeping and wanted to have someone at the hospital check on them before he was going to stop by. They all made plans to meet back up at his place later that evening though, to try and start re-strategizing.

And, originally, Steve was going to go with his California visitors to the store for grocery shopping, but when they heard him mention his stitches they told him to go ahead to the hospital while they dealt with it. He gave them some of the cash his parents had stashed for necessities and they headed off to the supermarket to get all the fixings for a taco night, as well as other various things to feed them throughout the… however long they were there.

When he stopped by the Urgent Care Clinic… there was something out of the ordinary, to say the least. There was some camera crew, or maybe it was a few, and a couple of people crowding around the front doors along a line of police officers trying to keep the way into the building clear. Steve pulled his jacket tighter around him as he turned away and tried to get in past them without getting pulled into it. What he heard was that they were calling the city a portal to hell again, and they wanted comments on the serial murderer, Eddie Munson… Great. The greatest. Absolutely what they all needed right now.

But besides that, he got inside and the nurse wasn’t very happy to see he’d already messed up their handiwork from just a few days prior. But she numbed him and retied the broken skin together anyway, all while gently chastising him for being too rough with himself. When she said he was good to go, he knew the other reason he came by was going to keep him there.

He needed to see them. So he went to the second floor, signed the visitors log like he was supposed to, told them it was for both Mayfield and Munson, and then walked into the girl’s room where she was alone for the first time he’d seen her. It broke his heart to see her on her own in the bed, but he was also incredibly relieved because he was not sure he could be as honest as he needed to be if there was anyone else there.

So he sat in the chair by her bed. He pulled the letter from where he’d put it in his pocket. And he leaned forward to say what he needed to make sure she knew.

“Hey, Max. I don’t know where you’re at. I don’t know if you can hear this. El says it's like your head is empty, but I don’t really get that. Doesn’t make sense. You’re way too snarky to not always have the engines firing, you know? But I wanted to stop by anyway. Talk to you because…” he stopped for a second and cleared his throat.

“I read your letter, Max,” He declared, like he was admitting to a crime,” I know you made a big deal about waiting to read it when Dustin and I tried to open them in the Wheeler’s basement. Because they were meant for just in case. Just in case you died, and I’m firmly believing that you aren’t dead-dead yet. And I'm not going to let you be. So, I’m sorry if I read it early. But I couldn’t stop thinking that, if I’m wrong - becuase I’m wrong a lot - and this really doesn’t go our way, if this does end with us losing you, I-… I don’t want to miss my chance to talk to you first.” his voice cracked and he looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from building,” So I read it. And, fuck, kid. You really pack a punch when you want to, you know? I mean, I’ve been beat up plenty of times and I never cried about it. But man, you got me good, with just a piece of paper.”

He looked back at the letter between his fingers,“ Um, still can’t believe you actually said you thought of me like a brother to you. I thought you woulda been too tough to admit something like that. But you did. So I’ll admit I looked at you like a kid sister. The one I would’ve loved to have gotten to grow up knowing. God,” he sniffed and gently reached out to place his hand on her wrist,” A badass littler Max earning scraps on her knees because she’s determined to figure out skateboarding? That would’ve been someone cool to know… I would’ve wanted to go with you to the parks while you practice. But I wouldn’t have tried it myself. Would’ve run the other way if you told me to give it a shot. But you would’ve worn me down and I would’ve stood on it and instantly fallen off. Would’ve landed on my ass so hard I limped all the way back to the car and blamed you for it for the rest of the week.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit imagining it. A life where he wasn’t alone all the time. A life where he got to know Max earlier.

“Yeah, it’d been something like that, I guess. Just a thought. Anyway, I just wanted you to know…”

He hesitated before moving his fingers to hold hers,” I love you, too, Maxie. And I’m not ready for you to die. So you don’t get to. You have to hang on and get back up one of these days. Or you’ll break my heart, you hear? You’ll break my heart, and you’re not allowed to do that. We’re going to get you back. Whatever it takes. I really don't care what it calls for, it’s happening so we get you back. So you be stubborn like I know you are. And we’ll figure it out and handle the rest. We are getting you back.”

He finished off what he had to say and felt better. More revolved and ready to face Vecna again. He promised that little girl that she was going to live and, by god, he was going to be right. As he leaned back, wondering how long he should spend before crossing the hall and sharing his time with the other patient, the door opened. Max’s mother was walking in.

Obviously, she wants to sit with her daughter too. Steve just sort of nodded to her, gave a quick goodbye to Max and began to excuse himself when Susan pointed out the envelope in his hand.

“She wrote you a letter, too?”

He struggled with how he was supposed to answer that,“ Uh- uh- yeah. She did. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let her know I read it-”

“She left letters at home. I- it was like she knew something was going to happen to her. Do you- do you know why she- why she wanted to make sure she could say goodbye?” Susan was already tearing up. It was the first time she was able to ask anyone.

“I don’t know what-”

“You were with her, she wrote you one too,” she broke eye contact with the boy to look at her daughter as she pleaded,” Was there something else happening? Something I- Something I missed? Something I didn’t notice was going on with her?”

“I can’t…” he can’t tell her about the Upside Down, about the curse,” I don’t know how to tell you what she was going through. But I think she’s been struggling-”

“Struggling?” she echoed with a breaking voice.

“Since Billy.”

“You don’t think she would’ve-” she couldn’t finish the thought.

Because she was asking if Max would’ve killed herself. And that’s too painful a thought for a parent to voice.

“I don’t. Not really.”

It was the truth. From what Lucas had said, she blamed herself and thought about being the one gone. She closed herself off from everyone, but she wouldn’t have hurt herself. No, Steve didn’t believe it. Couldn't believe it.

“But I do think she needs a little more.” he added,” From all of us. So she doesn’t forget that, just because he’s gone, she’s not alone. We’re all going to do better for her, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are. Thank you…”

He gave a solemn nod as he went to pass her and go out the door.

But just before he reached it, Susan turned around and said,“ Before you go… did she really say that?”

“What?”

Susan stepped forward,“ I overheard… did she really say that she thought of you like a brother to her?”

“Um… yeah. Uh, it was something she put in my letter.” he lifted the envelope toward her,” Um, you could read it if you want."

Her eyes fell to it as he thought to add," There’s this inside joke we have about monsters and stuff, um, but besides that, it was really nice.”

“Inside joke?” she questioned him.

“Yeah. Uh, it’s a thing the kids do. Play pretend that we fought monsters and stuff. Nothing serious though.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

“A joke?” she sounded unconvinced.

“Yeah. Obviously, it’s a big stupid joke. Inside joke. For us, the few of us… a funny joke. Dustin started it-”

“Because… in my letter, she said she wanted to explain something to me. And it didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t seem like a joke to her.”

“I…”

Steve didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Break the NDA, get them all in trouble, and bring grieving Susan Mayfield into their hellish reality? Or hide it from her even though she deserves to know what really happened to her kid?

“Was it a joke? Or was something-”

“I can’t. Say anything. Here.” he emphasized in a low tone

“What does that mean?”

“Can I call you? Later?” he had to buy time, discuss it with the group, and figure out what to do,” To try and… explain?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll call and…” he still wasn’t sure what to say would happen,” I’ll just call.”

“Okay.”

He nodded and handed her the envelope,“ Um, if you wanted to read it… Goodbye.”

And he turned on his heels and nearly ran to the bathroom down the hall. Found it thankfully empty and braced himself against the sink while he let out shaking breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut, firmly refusing to keep crying that day. Once he got himself under control, he splashed water on his face and went to Eddie’s room.

It was a similar sight. The boy, all alone in a bed, mirroring the girl in the other room. Once more, Steve lowered himself into a chair by their bedside and scooted it forward so he could talk to the sleeping body before him.

“Hello... It’s Steve, stopping by during your post-apocalyptic, recovery nap. I see you’re still racking up that beauty sleep.”

He knew less of what he wanted to say to Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson didn’t leave him a heartbreaking letter to respond to, but the nurse said talking to him would be good. So, he started with the only thing that came to mind.

“You know, Munson... I used to run away too. I know you’re asleep, but I can hear you laughing. ‘Oh, King Steve, what do you mean you used to run? The only thing you “ran” was the school back in your heyday before Nancy softened you up.’ You’d be about half right with that one, but I was something of a coward, too.” he admitted, twiddling his thumbs together as he got to remembering who he used to be.

“I was a bully, as I’m sure you noticed. I hope our paths never crossed like that, but as embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m not even sure I’d remember if we did. I swear it’s not a lie to avoid taking responsibility or anything… If I did, I want to say I’m sorry. But I’m really not sure. I never really cared that much about ‘stomping on the ants’, as Tommy called it. I was more concerned with chasing tail, fulfilling my conquests, dominating sports, defending my position on the social ladder, all that useless shit.” he further explained,” I never tracked down the weirdos for the sake of hurting them - ‘for fun’ - but when my friends found a target, I jumped in the dog pile. Was on their side if they expected me to be.”

“It wasn’t right,” he insisted,” I know that. And it took me caring about Nancy enough to admit I was wrong. And then it took caring about Nancy enough to stop running away and instead go into the house with a monster. And then it took caring about those kids enough to stop running from the idea that I could ever be more than what I’ve always been. They made me confront myself and decide to be better.”

“Sometimes that’s what it takes, you know. Someone calling you on the shit you’ve done wrong… and them being there, needing you, so you have something to care about more than yourself. It kinda shocks you into doing the courageous things for the first time in your life. Just- I wanted to let you know that I know what it’s like. Being a coward and then getting the shit knocked out of you when you try to be brave. I’m still pissed you chose to play hero, we nearly lost you for a minute there… but I get it, man. Dustin was there, and that little twerp'll just crack a guy’s heart open like no one's business. So I get it.”

“Anyway, besides all of that nonsense, you did good. And we aren’t giving up on making sure you’ll be able to walk around freely again. We’re all on it. Nancy and Robin did a good job of making a game plan. We’ll be able to turn this on Jason Carver. So long as when you wake up, you follow the story. You’ve got nothing to worry about. So if you’re scared about coming back up because everything’ll be hopeless, and there’s no point in the fight, don’t be. Just wake up and we’ll all be right there with you while we fix it. You won’t go down for this.”

Steve was just starting to explain that everyone was back in town, that Eddie had some people he needed to meet, and that he missed out on an Ice Cream Party when a nurse came in.

“There’s a call for you,” she told him, which was pretty much at the bottom of the list of things he was expecting to hear while he was visiting.

“For me?” he questioned while pointing at himself.

“The same Steve Harrington who checked into the visitor's log this morning.”

“Alright?”

He followed her over to the nurse’s station and accepted the phone held out for him,“ Hello?”

“Steve,” a woman’s voice answered,” What’s this I’m hearing from Karen about all my children being at your house?”

“Ms. Byers,” he recognized.

“Joyce,” she corrected him.

“Yes, Joyce.” he amended, now remembering that’s not the first time she’d told him to call her that,” Um, yeah, Jonathan and his friend from California-”

“Argyle.”

“Yes, they showed up in Hawkins yesterday with the other two and Mike. Said they drove over because of a…” he looked at the nurse typing away at a computer just beside him before turning further away and simply putting it,“ Another situation.”

“And that’s why Karen made a point about my phone being disconnected,” she concluded.

“Yes. Lots of calls were made to your home, Ms. B- Joyce.” he caught himself,” And since your house in Hawkins was sold, and there was a bit of property damage around the city, and the Wheelers already have such a full house…” he excused,” I offered for them to stay over with me until we heard back from you about the business trip to Alaska. Sorry if that was-”

“No, no. Thank you for taking them in and keeping an eye on them. I can’t thank you enough, Steve.” There was a pause as she seems to get her bearings on what was going on,” Alright, I’m stopped at the house in Lenora - which is very much not in the condition I had left it in, by the way - but we’ll be on the next flight out there.”

“We?”

And there was another pause before she answered,“ Murray is over here. You met Murray.”

“Briefly.”

“I have him on the phone with the airport. Hey Ho- heeyyy, uh, how soon can we get to Hawkins?” He heard over the phone. Which was only a little weird.

There was some background noise, another voice, but not loud or clear enough to make out. But he thought he remembered Murray having a somewhat higher-pitched voice. The one he heard sounded lower, gruffer. Which only raised his suspicions that Joyce was being weird.

“Looks like there’s one later today we can squeeze into. Probably won’t be back until about dinnertime. And we’ll need someone to pick us up from the airport.”

“That’s fine, we’ll figure something out. Do you want the number to the house so you can check in and tell the kids yourself? They should be back from the grocery store by now.”

“Thank you, Steve. Yes, I’ll take the number, let me grab a pen.”

It didn’t take long for him to relay the number and make sure she had it right. Apparently, Nancy was already gone from the Wheeler’s, and Karen didn’t have it when she’d called. But when Nancy asked about the car keys, her father made a big deal about Steve driving them instead of giving them back. This resulted in Nancy saying he was going to be at the hospital, hence why Karen had sent Joyce that way to track him down, instead of digging through the phone book Nancy lost last summer that they hadn’t thought to replace.

“Alright. Thank you, Steve,” she said again,” I’ll give them a call.”

He began to brush past the thanks,“ Of course, Ms. Byers. You should know where your kids are, and I’m sure they really want to hear from you-”

But Joyce stopped him,“ No. Seriously, Steve, thank you. For watching out for them and keeping them together when they got back. And for being a part of this with us and being so much help every time.”

Now, Steve had told himself so many times that day that he wasn’t going to cry and absolutely wasn’t going to keep crying, but something about the way Joyce said it had him tearing up again,“ Yeah. Anytime, Ms.-”

“Joyce, Steve.”

“Anytime, Joyce”

There was silence on the line for a second, and Steve was about to give his goodbyes when Joyce said,“ You’re a good kid. You know that?”

Steve had to take a breath and stare back at that ceiling again to keep from letting the tears fall right there by the nurse's station. “Go talk to your babies, Joyce,” he dismissed her so he could run off and calm himself down again.

“Alright, you take care of yourself until I can catch up with you tonight,” she told him.

“You, too.” he agreed before handing the phone back to the nurse.

She made a lighthearted comment about not being his secretary, but that she’d let it slide since it was clearly about someone tracking down their children, and that’s serious enough right now. Steve returned to Eddie’s room and reclaimed his chair by the window as he pulled out the walkie he’d brought with him and bothered to give some of the group an update.

When that was taken care of, he leaned further in the chair to try and get comfy as he looked back at Eddie to ask, “Where was I, Munson?”

Obviously, the other didn't answer, so he thought for a moment,” Something about, 'Just wake up already' and 'The Party’s nearly all assembled again', right? Well, good news. Joyce Byers and Murray… I-know-it-started-with-a-B last name are coming back tonight. So we'll ALL be back together again and can make sure this whole thing stops this time. If you woke up right now, it’d be pretty convenient, just saying.”

He paused for a second, kinda hoping the guy would throw him a bone just this once and make it easy. He didn’t

“Fine, keep napping. Well, I didn’t bring anything to kill the time, so that’s on me. But they got you set up with a killer tv set, so we can crank that on for now. I can hang out until four, but then they’re going to kick me out. So, if you can’t do it now, but want to do your dramatic rise from the dead today, do it before then. Otherwise, your show will only reach the hospital staff, and, honestly, I think I’d make a much better audience.”

And with that final line, Steve was turning on the tv and changing the channel until he found something other than a news station. Turned out there was a rerun of Grease he was happy to sit through, even if he missed a bit of the introduction, they were catching it just in time for ‘Summer Nights’. He’d seen it enough times to not be bothered.

As far as he was concerned, he just gave a few meaningful speeches to people who couldn’t hear him. And while he certainly preferred to be listened to than ignored, he was grateful for that. He just said quite a bit of somewhat embarrassing stuff, so if they could never be used against him, he wouldn’t be too mad. He usually found it easier to talk about sensitive stuff if no one could hear him.

But in truth, Eddie heard every word. In his mind, he was still in the void El had left him in. When everyone was packed in the hospital room, talking fast and over one another, it was hard to follow. The words kind of slipped together and came through sloppy. But since Steve was visiting alone, talking slowly and carefully, it reached him much more clearly.

And he was far less alone as he fought to get his body up.

#Finally Steve gets to have a complete nervous breakdown #Been waiting to give him one and I plan to give him some more #This chapter fucked me up y'all. I was crying every time I wrote on it - worked on it- edited it - read it - every frickin time #But it was worth it (and we're going to get into more of Max's letter btw)#Anyway - I hope I'm successfully campaigning for my Steve and Max Sibling-ism while every mom in Hawkins fights to adopt him #Everyone gets custody until Steve has the biggest found family ever seen. I said what I said.#We're so fucking close to dropping the Steddie time bomb #(I mean. They're already starting a tradition of watching movies together and Eddie ain't even conscious sooooo...)#And then we're going to fly into Jancy breaking up and Ronance Bonding and Mileven tension and Byler and Elumax connections!#So much going to happen and I can't wait to start juggling all these relationships around fun activities once the big bad is gone #I mean what I said about this being a slowburn. There will be proper agonizing yearning. I promise.#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers #stranger things fanfiction #ST4 fanfic #Steddie Fanfic #Ronance Fanfic

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